Lost in Translation

A bus ride, a new word, and a hilarious mix-up between two Kashmiri teens trying to make sense of English, identity, and growing up.

- Aisha Hasnain

He said “millennial”; I heard “millionaire”. So I kept repeating “millionaire” and he kept hearing “millennial”.

“Arsalan, we are millennials!”

Standing in a crowded bus, Haris tried for once to sound intelligent in front of his class-topper best friend by sharing a new English word he'd picked up from a tuition classmate.

The boys had just finished their Class 10 board exams. It was late 2011, and they had been living in a rented room in Srinagar for the past two weeks, juggling their 11th-grade medical studies with one keypad phone, two kangris, some coal, and pherans they barely dared wear in the city.

Arsalan, who had once told Haris that culture was important, was the first to shed it after spotting boys flaunting leather jackets on bikes.

“I hope Barjees never comes to Srinagar,” Haris whispered about his teenage crush back home.

They were heading home for the weekend after their longest stretch away so far. Haris’ parents always chose for him what Arsalan decided to do with his career. They were grateful that their below-average son had a bright friend who could serve as inspiration.

Haris was glad to be with Arsalan, and Arsalan, protective as ever, treasured Haris’ innocent wit and envied his easy confidence.