“Si ri ri ri, haawaa chalchha” / “सिरिरिरी हावा चल्छ”

My attempt at translating it:

  1. ⁠The wind howls as it blows.
  2. ⁠The wind is howling.

I look at the words and read them out loud

Correct meaning, lost essence.


Last night, a friend told me that the language they think in and the language they “have to” speak in are different.

I think about the language I think in.

Almost naturally, English comes to mind.

Then, I think about things that are not thoughts.

Feelings, perhaps.




I think about expressions that I learned from my mother. From my grandmother, and my aunts.


“Paani khalala bagchha” / “पानी खलल बग्छ”

The water flows

“Ghaam tann tann lagyo” / “घाम टन् टन् लाग्यो”

The sun is scorchingly bright

Translations. Lost essences.


I then think about the way I talk.


I cannot come to think of a single thing because my rootlessness is apparent now

Perhaps, I talk like a wallpaper* one can refresh and peel off

Something temporary, my way of speaking

I cannot think of a better metaphor for something that picks things as it touches them on its way than an adhesive stick, and I chuckle

I think I can do better. So, I stop fishing for things to compare my speech and style of talking to.


Sometimes, it is deliberate, slow, intentional, thoughtful

Most other times, it is fast and expressive


My mother tells me I need to talk slower

My friend tells me my talking can pick more pace

I tell myself I should stick to a language

I remind myself of the strained use of words, their misuse,

Mixed metaphors, occurring in error or lost rhetoric


My roundabout expressions of love and affection

Constantly flattened by reasoning and thought


Words flocculate in my mind, in random order, aimless

As I try to fish for words my mother taught me

To express in a different tongue


सिरिरिरी हावा चल्छ 

The wind is howling





  1. Scott, J., & Smith, S. (2020). I talk like a river. Findaway World, LLC.

This is a response to Jordan Scott’s I Talk Like a River, the protagonist of which is a young child who stutters. The author has asked the reader to think about the way they talk and this is my response to it. In “Translations,” I delve into the complexities of language and memory, exploring the essence lost in translation while learning from the women in my family circles.

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