Monday, April 06, 2015

2168 : Poetry is child's play

As I sit with my child and try to explain to him poetry, especially hindi poetry - the scene is riproariously funny.

So in my precise urdu diction, I tell him "Na Bolu mein toh kaleja phooke"....(Quite literally.....If I dont speak, then the insides of my liver burn down with that suppressed secret")

And my 4 year old goes, do we need the fire engine then? Also, what is the liver? I tell him its similar to the heart. Oh, then why do we need both? They are different organs. (I have taught him the rough size of the heart). Is the liver similar sized to the heart? Not sure, but I will get back soon to you. What does the liver do? Removes poisons. But I tho dont eat poison? Ah, ok also digests fat. Does that mean it will digest mumma ? No, no, its digests fat and not fat people. You are tho fit na? Not sure, I too have a lot of fat here and there. Does that mean your liver does not work?...........

By now, the original song is lost. Gulzar is dead. Poetry is buried under a treasure trove of trivial (but important clarifications). I have not even told him that the next line (Joh bol doon tho zaaban jale hain.....will mean....If I do speak, then its my tongue that is scathing")......

Because that is for another equally tipsy blogpost.

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