Lost in Translation

[toujours_nigel]

Okay, this off ivorygates' comment in this thread.

A/N: Kaminey, released in July this year, takes on and twists any number of Bollywood tropes, being an evil twin of the '70's Bollywood caper films. You can find a longer review here.

This snippet takes place in my Mikhail-lives AU, but is very much a stand-alone. The language Charlie and Mikhail speak is Bengali; all others are to be assumed to speak in Hindi, including the OMC, who really likes India (um).

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Lost in Translation

 

“This is Mark,” Sweety says, smile strained. “Mark this is…”

 

“Let me guess.” Mark adjusts his glasses, grins. “Sweety’s told me so much about all of you that I half feel like I’ve grown up with you. You must be Sophia.” He beams like identifying the only other girl in the room as female should earn him a big reward, like the faces around the table don’t range in expression from disbelieving (Charlie) to resigned (Guddu).

 

Sophia gleams back, hand outstretched, eyes lit-up, all ‘hullo, I’m of your tribe, how may I most easily lift your cash and portable valuables?’. No wonder Pa Shetty threw such a fit when she left, girl can sell a Rajasthani sand.

 

Charlie, dragged there under protest and with promises of farcical entertainment, takes Sweety’s momentary lack of vigilance as a chance to twist towards Mikhail, whisper, “Kotha kotha thek je erokom baaNdor paye.”

 

“Cross-tourism,” Mikhail smirks, lip lifting slightly up over canines, “O poverty-porn dekhuk, amra baaNdor-naach.”

 

“And you must be Guddu,” roars the effusive voice. Charlie turns.

 

Mikhail blinks his eyes shut, and opens them, suddenly less of a spoiled, cantankerous bastard. “That’s Guddu,” he offers, gesturing at the real McCoy across the table, reaches out and pats Charlie on the shoulder. “This is the evil twin.”

 

Mark blinks, turns to Sweety for help. But Sweety, having ferried him around all day—rich guy, Guddu had explained, earlier in the morning, and he’ll give us a lot of money, matlab. (Us being the NGO, and not many people in it, save Guddu and Sweety apparently fitting into this fucker’s conception of ‘the idealistic Indian youth’. Or maybe just the easiest to guilt into this, more likely)—has apparently decided to abandon him to the wolves. “Charlie,” he hazards, takes his hand from Sophia’s grip—he’s been holding hers with both hands—and thinks better, mid-move, of giving it to Charlie, swivelling, instead, towards Mikhail. “And you must be his yaar.”

 

“Something like that,” Mikhail says, blinks his eyelashes down and up in a lazy swoop that does nothing to stop anyone—save, of course, good ol’ boy Mark Godwin—from sitting just an inch straighter. Mikhail’s relationships are privileged information. “Mikhail Dutta.”

 

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Datta.” He doesn’t let go of Mikhail’s hand before sitting down, keeps a hold on it till Guddu sets a towering pile of folders down on the table. “Always good to see such a conglomeration of religions, even,” pause for dutiful laugh, “in the same family, eh, Sweety?” Save it comes out sweetie, baby, honey, and Guddu’s jaw clenches in embarrassment.

 

“Land of diversities, sir,” Sweety chimes in, sweetly compliant, and starts reeling off facts and figures in a tone that’d do Shukla proud.

 

***

 

“Yaar?” Guddu says, later, cheque in the mail and Mikhail-Charlie-Sophia mollified, “H-h-how did he know, matlab?”

 

“He didn’t.”

 

“Wh-wh-what do you m-m-mean he didn’t, matlab?”

 

“You know that song, no, yaari hai imaan mera… the Pran thing?”

 

“H-h-he?”

 

Sweety giggles.

 

*** *** ***

 

Okay, so, Translations:

 

Kotha kotha thek je erokom baaNdor paye: Where does she get these monkeys from?

 

O poverty-porn dekhuk, amra baaNdor-naach.: He’ll watch poverty-porn, we can watch a monkey-dance.