The Centre(36)

“Maybe it’s the process you enjoy. The goalpost is just an illusion, you know. Just stay in the process.”

“Like, do another translation?”

“Yeah, maybe. Or … learn another language?”

“I do think about that sometimes, you know. I miss it. The Centre. I’d like to experience it again.”

“What language would you want to learn?”

“I’ve always wanted to be able to read Russian.”

“Russian would be great. Oh, you know what? I have the perfect lady for you as well. You’ll love her.”

“As supervisor?”

“No, silly. I’ll be your supervisor.”

“Oh, good.”

“I meant as your Storyteller. The voice on the headphones.”

“Oh, right. Okay, that’s great. I have to say, that German man was a bore.”

“Sorry about that.”

“I still have dreams that feel like his, you know. They make me anxious.”

“Don’t worry, this time will be different. You’ll love this lady. Actually, she was working at the Centre when you last visited. Anna. You remember her? She probably cleaned your room.”

“The old lady?”

“Yes, that’s her. She’s wonderful.”

“Oh, how nice. She was very loving to me once, in a moment of distress.”

“You spoke to her?”

I thought I saw Shiba’s mouth twitch in response and panicked briefly that she’d be upset at me for breaking the no-contact rule.

“Kind of,” I said. “I was crying in my room, and she comforted me. It was a very brief interaction.”

“Oh no. You were crying in your room?”

I felt warmed that Shiba cared more about my well-being than a minor infraction.

“It’s fine. Just internet withdrawal. So, her name’s Anna? Wow. That’ll be great, to hear about her life. Do they all talk about their lives?”

“They do.”

“And then after, I’ll finally be able to have a conversation with her in her native tongue.”

“Actually, she won’t be there. Anna’s ill at the moment, unfortunately.”

“Oh no, what’s wrong?”

“A heart thing, apparently. She’s in the hospital.”

Shiba seemed upset about Anna’s illness, looking down into her coffee as she spoke.

“Is it serious?”

“It may be. But we’re taking good care of her. She’s very special to us. She’s been with us forever like I said.”

“I hope she feels better soon,” I said.

“Yes.”

“So,” I asked, “are all the Storytellers staff members then?”

“Not necessarily. They come from all over the place. But they’re all trusted people who know what we’re about. That selection process is just as exclusive as the one for Learners. We’re very cautious at both ends.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You can tell how deeply it’s all planned out.”

“Who knows, maybe one day we can welcome you into the fold,” Shiba said.

“I’d love that.”

So there I was, a few weeks later, back at the Centre, ready to acquire the Russian tongue.





SIX


When I speak in Urdu, I change. I’m not sure how exactly. Sometimes, it feels like I become more honest. More real. Other times, I wonder if I become more childlike. This may be due to the limitations of my vocabulary. Since I speak Urdu mainly-slash-only to my elders, and the Urdu novels and films that I consume tend to be very PG, maybe my Urdu has never properly … adulted. Like once, sitting with Naima in a café, I was trying to tell her about the sex stuff with Adam in Urdu so that the white people next to us wouldn’t overhear. And I realized I didn’t have the words. I ended up saying things like “aana” for “come” and, by the end, resorting to pantomime. The white people next to us, who probably wouldn’t have noticed otherwise, totally figured out what we were talking about.

As for French, well, I learned French as an adult while teaching English in Paris after my master’s. Something about that time, and also the way that you have to change the shape of your mouth while speaking, and maybe also the stereotypes about the language, makes me feel more adult when I speak it. And also, sorry, but, maybe more sophisticated. Sexier? I know. I kind of hate myself too. Even my desires, I think, shift according to the tongue I adopt. Like, at a restaurant, I’d probably choose a different item depending on which language I place the order in.

English, for me, sadly, is the default. The neutral. It’s the language that I generally operate in, the one I dream and think in, and the one I feel most comfortable expressing myself in. You know, I’d always assumed my mother tongue was Urdu, but maybe it is in fact English. It’s a problem, to struggle with something as simple as identifying your own mother tongue.

And the German? Well. The German came so quickly and with such immediate fluency that it operated in a bubble, not really interacting or assimilating with the other languages but instead creating its own compartment. It didn’t necessarily feel like a part of me but more like a companion, standing at a distance, ready to be called upon when needed.