Of Quotes, Misquotes and Lessons in Humility

Our very erratic and temperamental internet connection in the office was miraculously working at top speed today, so a few minutes before I left, I started browsing around. I wanted pictures of certain authors and poets whose works I will be teaching this semester. After I got what I wanted, for want of anything better to do, I typed my name just for a lark, wondering if any of my pictures were there on google image search. They were not. But Google, helpful as ever, gave me some links which contained my name, and I clicked on these. Imagine my surprise when I was given quite a few entries beside the usual blog addresses and NET list, and I hadn't even known about these. My curiosity aroused, my ego sufficiently stroked, I happily followed these links. First, an article by a lady journalist whom I had met recently. Quickly skimming down, I came to the part which had my name:

There are also 100 other “mother tongues” spoken by 10,000 or more people, according to census data, and tens of thousands of dialects. “Because people don’t think their works are going to be read, they’re skipping writing in their own language and writing in English,” said Cherrie Channgte, literature lecturer at Mizoram University in India’s northeast. “Unless their work has a chance of translation into English, writing in local languages will start withering,” Channgte said.

“It’s already happening,” added Channgte, whose mother tongue is Mizo but who is equally fluent in English. “Mizo literature will vanish one day.” There is also a big need for Indian works to be translated into regional languages to promote interaction and understanding in the hugely culturally, linguistically and religiously diverse country, experts said.

Zoinks! I didn't recall ever predicting that Mizo literature would vanish, although we had some very lively discussions about the need for translation, and how linguistic minorities are getting more and more sidelined, how there was a danger that literary production would simply peter out one day if something was not urgently done to stop this trend. And it was not an interview. And my last name is spelled wrong. Of course, the writer is a sweet lady called Penny MacRae, and this came out in The Pakistan Daily, of all things.

I opened with trepidation the next two links. They were both already two days old, and both screamed:

Mizo literature will vanish one day, predicts Mizoram University Lecturer

Yeow! I hastily wrote to both sites, and clarified my stand. The editor of Samaw.com, one of the sites, was really sweet about it, and we resolved whatever needed to be resolved very amicably (I think). the other was on Lawrkhawm.com, and thankfully it had gone pretty much ignored since nobody deigned to comment upon it. I refrain from giving you links to these sites because I'm too mortified right now, and don't want you to go hunting them up.

Whew! This was a bit too much attention for mousy old me, a person who'd rather hide and write than bask in the spotlight. And the embarrassing part was that the attention wasn't all that positive! Ouch!

Wait, I'm not done. By now, heart-heavy with a feeling of dread but unable to help myself, I opened the link to a blog (http://letmetellyouamizostory.blogspot.com/) where one of my translations, a story by a well-known writer had been posted by a friend. I hadn't really dared to do that, fearing the feedback of its esteemed readers. I looked. There were only two comments.
One of them said "it felt to me as if something has been lost in translation". Ouch! Ouch!


So, to cut a long, depressing story short, I learnt that:
(a) I need to be careful about what I say, because I could be quoted.
(b) I also need to be careful because the same thing could be taken out of context, making me look really silly and giving the impression that I'm shooting off my mouth without really thinking things through.
(c) not everybody likes what I write, and I should just accept that.

And, because mom always ended her stories with a moral when we were younger,
(d) I should learn to accept criticism and being dismissed (worse!) as being too insignificant for any reaction, and that I should simply learn to be grateful for who I am, regardless of what others think.

Ciao!