She collaborated with two professors at Gallaudet University on the first ASL dictionary, laying the groundwork for a flourishing in Deaf identity over the last 50 years.
Dorothy Casterline, who as a young researcher at Gallaudet University in the early 1960s helped write the first comprehensive dictionary of American Sign Language, a book that revolutionized the study of Deaf culture, died on Aug. 8 in Irmo, S.C. She was 95.
Pamela Decker Wright, a professor at Gallaudet, the only university designed for the deaf or hard of hearing in the United States, said Mrs. Casterline died, in a hospital, from complications of a fall.
As an undergraduate English major at Gallaudet, in Washington, in the late 1950s, Mrs. Casterline, who had lost her hearing at 13, caught the attention of a professor named William Stokoe. In addition to teaching literature, Dr. Stokoe was investigating the grammar and syntax of sign language, which at the time was considered nothing more than a gestural derivative of spoken English.
Dr. Stokoe believed that there was much more to it. His goal, which he realized in 1965 with Mrs. Casterline and another professor, Carl Croneberg, as co-authors, was to compile the first systematic dictionary of what they came to call American Sign Language.
“The book was Bill’s idea, but Carl and Dorothy did most of the work,” Professor Wright said.
Dr. Stokoe had the vision, but he also had a problem: Not only was he hearing, but he had never studied sign language before arriving at Gaullaudet in 1955.
Mrs. Casterline was one of his star students, who “wrote essays better than nine-tenths of the hearing students whose papers I had read for a dozen years elsewhere,” he wrote in the journal Sign Language Studies in 1993.
She was also something of an outsider, even among the deaf students at Gallaudet. Having been born in Hawaii to Japanese American parents, she was among the first students of color at the school — and, Professor Wright said, most likely the first person of color to join the faculty.
She graduated with honors in 1958. She then joined the English faculty as an instructor and worked as a researcher with Dr. Stokoe’s Linguistics Research Laboratory, alongside Mr. Croneberg, who was also deaf. (Dr. Stokoe died in 2000. Mr. Croneberg died in 2022.)
Mrs. Casterline in 1958, the year she graduated from Gallaudet University.Gallaudet University
With a grant from the National Science Foundation, the trio filmed thousands of hours of interviews with people from all walks of life: children and college students, men and women, Northerners and Southerners.
It was the task of Mrs. Casterline, who had fine, precise handwriting, to transcribe the interviews and then use a specialized typewriter to compile and annotate them. She worked late into the night and on weekends, sometimes with her newborn son in one arm.
The result was a vast collection of signs, which, they argued in “A Dictionary of American Sign Language on Linguistic Principles” (1965), constituted not a variant of English but a language unto itself, with its own rules. The dictionary organized its entries by hand formations, not by the alphabetical order of their English equivalents.
It was not immediately welcome, either in the Deaf community or among linguists generally. The idea that sign language was merely a visual, gestural adjunct to spoken language was too ingrained.
“We’ve always had — and continue to still have — pictures to illustrate how a sign is made, so we’re conditioned to think of American Sign Language as a picture language,” Mrs. Casterline told Jane Maher, the author of “Seeing Language in Sign: The Work of William C. Stokoe” (1996). “Seeing these strange symbols for the first time can be daunting.”
But by the 1980s, the dictionary had become a cornerstone of a robust emerging cultural identity.
“I feel that if the book hadn’t been published,” Professor Wright said, “I am not sure where we would be now.”
But by the 1980s, the American Sign Language dictionary that Mrs. Casterline helped assemble had become a cornerstone of a robust emerging cultural identity.via Casterline family
Dorothy Chiyoko Sueoka was born in Honolulu on April 27, 1928. Her father, Toshie Sueoka, was a stonemason and ironworker, and her mother, Takiyo (Yanagikara) Sueoka, was a housemaid.
Dorothy, who was known as Dot, lost her hearing in seventh grade, though she never knew why. She completed high school at what is now the Hawaii School for the Deaf and Blind. While there, she successfully lobbied the Honolulu police to cease barring deaf residents from driving cars.
She spent three years after high school working to save money to attend Gallaudet; at the time, only students who lived in the 48 states could receive financial assistance. She enrolled in 1955 and graduated three years later.
She married James Casterline, who died in 2012. She is survived by three grandchildren. Her sons, Jonathan and Rex, died before her.
After working on the dictionary, Mrs. Casterline left Gallaudet to raise her family. She also worked for a company that added captions to classic movies.
Years later, she remained proud of her work with Dr. Stokoe and Mr. Croneberg.
She helped write the dictionary, she told Ms. Maher, “to show that deaf people can be studied as linguistic and cultural communities, and not only as unfortunate victims with similar physical and sensory pathologies.”
CHRISTIANSBURG, Va. (BP) – When leaders at Hope Valley Church began developing what would become the real-time language translation resource “Polyglossia,” they were simply trying to meet a need for a deaf member in their church.
Polyglossia’s “Gateway box”
Heath Kouns and Nathan Ehresman were part of the leadership team which planted Hope Valley in 2018. The two noticed that Bill, who is deaf, was only able to attend Sunday services when which his wife Lisa, a hospice nurse, was there to translate into sign language for him.
“As long as his wife was there, she would interpret,” Kouns said. “We’re a small church plant, we couldn’t afford to have someone coming to sign, so he would only come when she was there. There were lots of weeks when she couldn’t attend, and so Bill would just stay at home those weeks.
“We put our heads together looking for all kinds of solutions that might help. How do we engage Bill? We tried other apps like Google translate and other things, but none of them worked very well, the performance and accuracy just wasn’t there.”
Kouns, who has multiple degrees in electrical engineering, and Ehresman, a software engineer, came up with a better way to help Bill connect with the congregation. They created a way for the transcript of the sermon to appear in real time on a tablet.
“We put together a solution that basically took the sound directly off the sound board. Really ever since then, [Bill] has been faithful. Even if his wife’s not there, he’ll come in, come by the sound booth and grab his tablet and go sit and interact with the service.
Polyglossia has been used at several official SBCV events, including a recent church planting training.
“His wife said that this is the most involved he’s ever been in a church, because before then he always struggled to understand. He would often feel excluded. She said this is the most engaged he has ever been.”
The two essentially developed a better way for the audio from the service to be captured and translated without background noise.
They created a “Gateway box” which would be plugged into a sound board or other audio source device. The box would then take the audio feed directly from the source, send it to servers in the cloud, transcribe the audio and then post it onto a public webpage.
Users would simply access the webpage, usually by scanning a QR code, and the real-time transcription would begin appearing on their tablet or other device.
The system is designed to work better for one person speaking to many, as opposed to other translation apps which work better for a conversation between individuals.
Soon others who were deaf or hard of hearing began using the resource to follow along with Hope Valley’s services.
The two thought they were finished developing the technology, but soon a need at another church in their area inspired them to add language translation to the equation.
“Polyglossia” co-founder Nathan Ehresman demonstrates the technology service at the 2023 SBC Annual Meeting.
Another local pastor was telling Kouns about a large population of Ukrainian refugees who had been placed in his community.
“The lightbulb sort of went off in that conversation,” Kouns said.
“I was texting back and forth with Nathan saying ‘Is this possible? Could we do this?’ After some investigation, we basically went off and retooled it and added translation and some other features that made it a little bit easier to use.”
Once the technology was retooled, local churches surrounding Hope Valley began testing it out, with resounding results.
To gauge interest, Polyglossia was made available for attendees to use at the 2022 SBC of Virginia Annual Homecoming last fall.
The strong interest continued, and Polyglossia’s translation service now works with more than 90 languages.
Since last fall’s Homecoming, dozens of churches have begun using Polyglossia during their services, the technology was demonstrated at the 2023 SBC Annual Meeting, and many churches and SBC entities have reached out to test out the service.
Polyglossia’s services have since been used at several official SBC of Virginia events.
One such event was a church planting training event, held at the SBCV’s office in Glen Allen, Va.
Kouns said there were 16 church planters at the event, and the training presentation was being translated into nine different languages among the planters at the same time.
The technology is also being used for more than translation from English to other languages. Some Spanish-speaking churches have begun using it for their younger second- and third-generation members to translate Spanish services into English.
Kouns said although the technology is based around Artificial Intelligence, it is not meant to take the place of people like translators and pastors. In fact, he said some translators have reached out to them about using the resource to aid them in the work they are already doing.
“There are positives and negatives (of using AI) certainly, but certainly from the engineering side of me, it can be used as a tool and a good tool,” Kouns said.
Ultimately, Kouns and Ehresman simply want the resource to help churches spread the Gospel and unite people in their congregations.
“In Revelation 7 there’s this beautiful picture of everybody standing before the throne and it talks about every tribe, every people and every tongue,” Kouns said.
“The word there for tongue in Greek is ‘glossa.’ The name Polyglossia came from that reading of Revelation 7.
“Our tagline is ‘Every nation, every people, every language,’ with the idea that we don’t need to be a divided Church here on Earth just because of language. We’re getting to the place where we have tools that we can, as we will in Heaven, be able to worship together at the same time and same location. That’s really what we want to see is the ability to bring people together, overcome those language barriers and allow us to serve the one true God true together.”
“I am writing to give you the good news that both Juan* and Lucas*, whose cases your team translated, have been granted asylum!”
That was the email I opened one late night this past month, informing me that the cases of two of my clients could finally move forward. As a project manager at Respond Crisis Translation, a language justice collective of 2,500 translators and interpreters who mobilize around-the-clock, every month I am on the receiving end of notices of hundreds of emergencies in which language access is crucial to accessing lifesaving services and basic human rights.
Juan and Lucas — pseudonyms to protect the privacy of these clients — speak K'iche’, an Indigenous language from Guatemala. They are minors who fled to the United States to seek safety from economic violence and persecution.
They are just two of more than 1 million people seeking asylum in the US who have been denied the basic, fundamental right to quality language translation at the border. For those who speak Indigenous and other marginalized languages, this problem is particularly acute, as immigration and border officials routinely fail to provide trained translators for those languages.
Many of our clients have been forced to languish for months in detention centers without seeing a single person who speaks their language or can help translate their case. The violence of the US asylum system, with its militarized borders and immigration prisons, gets compounded by the cruelty of language deprivation.
Recently, two of our translators led an interpretation session for a woman who attends a monthly meeting for survivors of domestic violence. The woman, thousands of miles from her country of origin, meets for two hours every month to share her experience in her own language and hear the facilitator's advice in her mother tongue.
Before finding our organization, though, the woman said it had been impossible to locate competent Bengali interpreters. Translation agencies were unable to find female translators, much less interpreters who are trauma-informed. When you are the interpreter, you put yourself into the stories you hear; if someone is telling a story of abuse, you have to understand how to create a safe and dignified space for the storyteller.
The same thing happened when I was managing a case for the Afghan languages team. We helped translate a short story for children migrating to the United States. Thanks to our dedicated translators, the children were able to share a story that enabled them to express emotions about their experience during a critical time in the immigration application process.
These are just a few of the hundreds of stories I have witnessed in my two years as a project manager at Respond Crisis Translation, and there are countless other stories that deserve to be heard.
Respond Crisis Translation’s network offers interpretation in over 166 languages to provide trauma-informed translation and interpreting services for anyone who needs it. We often hear that there is an “interpreter/translator shortage” at the border. But as a crisis translator and project manager, I see every single day that there is no shortage of talented, multilingual people who have the skills and desire to do this work.
The problem is the lack of funding for these services. The problem is technological “solutions,” like the CBP One mobile application used by US Customs and Border Protection to help migrants schedule appointments at points of entry. All asylum seekers are now forced to undergo the process through this app, even though the app features only a handful of languages, is poorly translated and inaccessible.
The problem is also a country that devalues translators and language diversity and, as a result, leaves countless migrants without support. Asylum seekers come with a trauma — they would not have left their home countries if that weren’t the case. But the US government, by keeping them from telling their stories, virtually weaponizes their languages against them.
This is a violation of fundamental rights. Language rights are human rights. Translation and interpretation are essential work. At Respond, we will continue to work tirelessly to advocate for thousands upon thousands of asylum seekers who are up against the daily, systemic violations of legally protected language rights.
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A recently translated Gujarati novel, set in 19th-century Bombay, sparks a fresh look at literary transferences to English
Woodcut prints by MV Dhurandhar illustrating the Gujarati original
What happens when a two-word expression you grew up giggling at—hearing family elders describe a morose person—presents itself as the title of a classic? The English edition of the Gujarati novel, Dukhi Dadiba, elicited my curiosity, followed by a wonderful read.
Seasoned translators, Aban Mukherji and Tulsi Vatsal have remarkably captured the consummate artistry with which the author of Dukhi Dadiba, the prolific Dadi Edulji Taraporewala (1868-1914), etched credible characters and placed them in upper-class Parsi society of late 19th-century Bombay. The narrative involves a mysteriously missing scion, a heroine grappling with the age-old dilemma of marrying for love or money, other women characters unusually spirited for their time and milieu, and exciting courtroom drama for a finale.
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Specialist litterateurs, across the genres of fiction, poetry and stage writing, balance views on the pleasures and pitfalls of Gujarati-to-English translation.
Why were you drawn to translating this novel? Aban Mukherji: A friend came across this book while looking through the belongings of a relative who had passed on. She asked if I would like to have it. I readily accepted, little realising its value at that time. Tulsi Vatsal: We do not read a book with the object of translating or publishing it. We were drawn to MV Dhurandhar’s evocative illustrations and then found that the (rather improbable) plot, with its twists and turns, as well as the short chapters, made for a quick, entertaining read. The setting of the tale when Indian, especially Parsi, society faced the challenges of Westernisation, added to the appeal.
Aban Mukherji and Tulsi Vatsal, the translators of Dukhi Dadiba
What have you collaborated on earlier? AM: One of our most challenging translations was Karan Ghelo: the last Rajput King of Gujarat. Being the first modern original Gujarati novel (1866), which has never been out of print, we felt very responsible for our translation quality. Working on it gave us tremendous satisfaction. TV: Apart from being the first Gujarati novel, Nandshankar Mehta’s Karan Gehlo (translated for Penguin, 2015), set in the time of nascent nationalism, tells a story of defeat—of the last Hindu ruler of Gujarat.
Your lively lines keep reader attention close to the narrative. How have you retained contemporary appeal of a century-old text? AM: Taraporewala’s style being surprisingly modern and straightforward, it wasn’t difficult to visualise his characters and their surroundings. TV: The key feature of our translation process is reading the original text aloud. This gives a feel for pacing, rhythm and flow. We also read the English translation aloud to see if we have caught the flavour of the original. There is a considerable amount of dialogue in Dukhi Dadiba. Conversations between father and daughter, mother and son should sound as if happening today.
Also read: As Maha govt pussyfoots on PoP ban, nature-forward bappa bhakts find idol greener than even shaadu
What challenges were faced while translating? AM: Serialised in the magazine Masik Majah (Monthly Merriment) in 1898, this work was so popular with the public that the magazine sales soared and led to the book published in 1913, a year before Taraporewala died at the age of 46. Serialisation implied a lot of repetition, of almost whole chapters at times. We had to do away with these in a way that did no disservice to the original. TV: The author obviously felt it necessary to recap and remind readers of past events. Removing the very tedious repetition while making the text flow seamlessly was a challenge.
Sitanshu Yashaschandra; (right) Murali Ranganathan, author of The First World War Adventures of Nariman Karkaria
Which real-life characters inspired Taraporewala to “docu-fictionalise” their story? AM: We have not found anything about the families on which this story is based. I feel the novel should be judged on its own merit. TV: After checking basic sources, we haven’t been able to find out. It seems surprising that a story concerning two of the most prominent families in Mumbai, a missing heir and a sensational court trial, finds no mention in Parsi Prakash or other sources.
Quotes of Indian saints and poets are interspersed within chapters—incongruous with Parsi authorship? AM: Taraporewala was a highly educated person, well-versed in Gujarati and even, I think, Marathi literature. It isn’t surprising that he would intersperse such quotes in his Gujarati prose, the style perhaps borrowed from Farsi literature. Parsis then were much more attuned to their Gujarati culture. They thought in the language and composed many works in it. TV: Yes, educated people in those days read widely and were familiar with Farsi.
Commending Mukherji and Vatsal, poet-playwright and translator Sitanshu Yashaschandra believes Parsi authors contributed the most enjoyable texts in modern Gujarati literature. “Taraporewala describes a culture in transition: 19th-century Bombay, where Parsis were a bridge between aggressive, exploitative colonial rulers and the resilient, clever Hindu-Muslim society. Dadiba is dukhi not only personally, but societally. He and other characters tell their own stories and a larger story: of the fashionable Westernisation of India and assertion of the quietly resistant Eastern culture, helping Dadiba to be sukhi.
“The translation is sensitive to this complexity, lucid and true to the multi-culturality and multi-historicity of the plot. I salute the translators and publisher for keeping the Parsi Gujarati title intact. The graph of the reader’s interest curves upwards as the reading proceeds. With neo-colonial powers on our doorsteps today, the theme of the original book is no more irrelevant. Pareen, Dadiba and Jehangir make a triangle that is eternal and forming anew.”
Yashaschandra has translated his Gujarati poet contemporaries and essays in Gujarati literary criticism. Invited by the Sahitya Akademi to translate his Gujarati poems for an anthology in English, he shares, “How hazardous yet beautiful is the road of self-translation, calling for honed skills and alert self-discipline at their best. The cup never more than the drink, a translation should be nearly invisible, not a self-important language strutting around. Translating into English, I am not doing a favour to the Gujarati author’s work. If at all, it is a gift to those who cannot read Gujarati, but are good at reading English.”
Tonalities differ, particularly in the poetry of the cultures. Yashaschandra likens translating from Gujarati to English (unlike into Hindi) to using an inner audiometer with precision. “A certain English whisper can do the work of a specific Gujarati shout—and the other way round. Syntax differs too. Gujarati in my original poems walks the distances its own way. English, in my translation of my poems, walks quite differently. The routes I choose for my poems in English translation are often deviant from those my original Gujarati poems take to travel towards readers.
“‘Literature’ began being written in English around the 14th century [rather than Latin, as was the practice till then]. The earliest ‘literary’ texts in Gujarati, rather than Sanskrit, appeared in the 12th century. A translator needs to feel proud and confident that the work has a long, strong history. This awareness selects texts for their innate strength, not as samples of exotica for the amused Western reader. Indian writing in English errs the most on this count.”
Translating living authors of Gujarati works, theatre practitioner Naushil Mehta emphasises, “It’s important to have an author freely allow you to express the original’s concerns your own way. Remaining faithful to the text can be detrimental to the project. Taking Gujarati material to English versions, my toughest call is selecting the subject. Not everything travels well into English.”
Mehta’s decision to adapt Madhu Rye’s Gujarati novel, Kimball Ravenswood, into the English play, A Suitable Bride, was a risk in 1996 as Ketan Mehta’s TV series, Mr Yogi, based on the same novel, was already aired. Proving a smash hit in Bombay, A Suitable Bride pulled a memorable performance in Khadakwasla, at the NDA, before 2,500 officer cadets—“The ideal audience for the story of NRI Yogesh Patel come bride-shopping to India,” says Mehta. “Most of those boys might have gone on to undertake Yogesh’s journey in the next few years.”
A colourful 2022 translation is Murali Ranganathan’s The First World War Adventures of Nariman Karkaria. Part memoir-part autobiography-part travelogue, it is possibly the sole trench account by an Indian from 1922, released as a serial in the Jam-e-Jamshed newspaper. Conversant with at least six languages, Ranganathan says, “Living in a cosmopolitan building society in Mulund, as kids we watched great Gujarati and Marathi television shows like Avo Mari Sathe, Kilbil and Santakukdi.” Interpreting the exploits of his Navsari-to-Bombay transplanted protagonist, who survived action on three fronts with a British army regiment, Ranganathan’s biggest task was convincing himself about tackling Karkaria’s Gujarati manuscript without reaching for
a dictionary.
Gujarati was the predominant language of the Parsis till the 1950s. Bombay households read an impressive number of journals in their mother tongue, including Jam-e-Jamshed, Kaiser-e-Hind, Akhbar-e-Saudagar and Mumbai Samachar, the mainstay of every other Gujarati-speaking community.
As Ranganathan said in an interview to Naresh Fernandes of Scroll.in: “All communities were writing but the Parsis took to it aggressively. There were serialised Gujarati translations of Persian classics. The war memoir as a mainstream personal narrative came into being from World War I. Karkaria found willing subscribers for his narrative. Many lost books deserve resurrection in translation.”
Author-publisher Meher Marfatia writes fortnightly on everything that makes her love Mumbai and adore Bombay. You can reach her at meher.marfatia@mid-day.com/www.meher marfatia.com
The Climate Dictionary is an initiative aimed at providing an everyday guide to understanding climate change. It seeks to bridge the gap between complex scientific jargon and the general public, making climate concepts accessible and relatable to individuals from various backgrounds and levels of expertise.
The concept was driven by the belief that empowering people with knowledge is crucial in fostering action and collective responsibility towards addressing climate change. By utilizing a creative combination of compelling visuals, concise explanations, and engaging storytelling, "The Climate Dictionary" effectively communicated complex climate concepts in a user-friendly and visually captivating manner. The publication features a series of climate-related term or phenomenon. The content was meticulously crafted to cater to diverse audiences, catering to both the scientifically inclined and those with limited prior knowledge of the subject.
A recently translated Gujarati novel, set in 19th-century Bombay, sparks a fresh look at literary transferences to English
Woodcut prints by MV Dhurandhar illustrating the Gujarati original
What happens when a two-word expression you grew up giggling at—hearing family elders describe a morose person—presents itself as the title of a classic? The English edition of the Gujarati novel, Dukhi Dadiba, elicited my curiosity, followed by a wonderful read.
Seasoned translators, Aban Mukherji and Tulsi Vatsal have remarkably captured the consummate artistry with which the author of Dukhi Dadiba, the prolific Dadi Edulji Taraporewala (1868-1914), etched credible characters and placed them in upper-class Parsi society of late 19th-century Bombay. The narrative involves a mysteriously missing scion, a heroine grappling with the age-old dilemma of marrying for love or money, other women characters unusually spirited for their time and milieu, and exciting courtroom drama for a finale.
ADVERTISEMENT
Specialist litterateurs, across the genres of fiction, poetry and stage writing, balance views on the pleasures and pitfalls of Gujarati-to-English translation.
Why were you drawn to translating this novel? Aban Mukherji: A friend came across this book while looking through the belongings of a relative who had passed on. She asked if I would like to have it. I readily accepted, little realising its value at that time. Tulsi Vatsal: We do not read a book with the object of translating or publishing it. We were drawn to MV Dhurandhar’s evocative illustrations and then found that the (rather improbable) plot, with its twists and turns, as well as the short chapters, made for a quick, entertaining read. The setting of the tale when Indian, especially Parsi, society faced the challenges of Westernisation, added to the appeal.
Aban Mukherji and Tulsi Vatsal, the translators of Dukhi Dadiba
What have you collaborated on earlier? AM: One of our most challenging translations was Karan Ghelo: the last Rajput King of Gujarat. Being the first modern original Gujarati novel (1866), which has never been out of print, we felt very responsible for our translation quality. Working on it gave us tremendous satisfaction. TV: Apart from being the first Gujarati novel, Nandshankar Mehta’s Karan Gehlo (translated for Penguin, 2015), set in the time of nascent nationalism, tells a story of defeat—of the last Hindu ruler of Gujarat.
Your lively lines keep reader attention close to the narrative. How have you retained contemporary appeal of a century-old text? AM: Taraporewala’s style being surprisingly modern and straightforward, it wasn’t difficult to visualise his characters and their surroundings. TV: The key feature of our translation process is reading the original text aloud. This gives a feel for pacing, rhythm and flow. We also read the English translation aloud to see if we have caught the flavour of the original. There is a considerable amount of dialogue in Dukhi Dadiba. Conversations between father and daughter, mother and son should sound as if happening today.
Also read: As Maha govt pussyfoots on PoP ban, nature-forward bappa bhakts find idol greener than even shaadu
What challenges were faced while translating? AM: Serialised in the magazine Masik Majah (Monthly Merriment) in 1898, this work was so popular with the public that the magazine sales soared and led to the book published in 1913, a year before Taraporewala died at the age of 46. Serialisation implied a lot of repetition, of almost whole chapters at times. We had to do away with these in a way that did no disservice to the original. TV: The author obviously felt it necessary to recap and remind readers of past events. Removing the very tedious repetition while making the text flow seamlessly was a challenge.
Sitanshu Yashaschandra; (right) Murali Ranganathan, author of The First World War Adventures of Nariman Karkaria
Which real-life characters inspired Taraporewala to “docu-fictionalise” their story? AM: We have not found anything about the families on which this story is based. I feel the novel should be judged on its own merit. TV: After checking basic sources, we haven’t been able to find out. It seems surprising that a story concerning two of the most prominent families in Mumbai, a missing heir and a sensational court trial, finds no mention in Parsi Prakash or other sources.
Quotes of Indian saints and poets are interspersed within chapters—incongruous with Parsi authorship? AM: Taraporewala was a highly educated person, well-versed in Gujarati and even, I think, Marathi literature. It isn’t surprising that he would intersperse such quotes in his Gujarati prose, the style perhaps borrowed from Farsi literature. Parsis then were much more attuned to their Gujarati culture. They thought in the language and composed many works in it. TV: Yes, educated people in those days read widely and were familiar with Farsi.
Commending Mukherji and Vatsal, poet-playwright and translator Sitanshu Yashaschandra believes Parsi authors contributed the most enjoyable texts in modern Gujarati literature. “Taraporewala describes a culture in transition: 19th-century Bombay, where Parsis were a bridge between aggressive, exploitative colonial rulers and the resilient, clever Hindu-Muslim society. Dadiba is dukhi not only personally, but societally. He and other characters tell their own stories and a larger story: of the fashionable Westernisation of India and assertion of the quietly resistant Eastern culture, helping Dadiba to be sukhi.
“The translation is sensitive to this complexity, lucid and true to the multi-culturality and multi-historicity of the plot. I salute the translators and publisher for keeping the Parsi Gujarati title intact. The graph of the reader’s interest curves upwards as the reading proceeds. With neo-colonial powers on our doorsteps today, the theme of the original book is no more irrelevant. Pareen, Dadiba and Jehangir make a triangle that is eternal and forming anew.”
Yashaschandra has translated his Gujarati poet contemporaries and essays in Gujarati literary criticism. Invited by the Sahitya Akademi to translate his Gujarati poems for an anthology in English, he shares, “How hazardous yet beautiful is the road of self-translation, calling for honed skills and alert self-discipline at their best. The cup never more than the drink, a translation should be nearly invisible, not a self-important language strutting around. Translating into English, I am not doing a favour to the Gujarati author’s work. If at all, it is a gift to those who cannot read Gujarati, but are good at reading English.”
Tonalities differ, particularly in the poetry of the cultures. Yashaschandra likens translating from Gujarati to English (unlike into Hindi) to using an inner audiometer with precision. “A certain English whisper can do the work of a specific Gujarati shout—and the other way round. Syntax differs too. Gujarati in my original poems walks the distances its own way. English, in my translation of my poems, walks quite differently. The routes I choose for my poems in English translation are often deviant from those my original Gujarati poems take to travel towards readers.
“‘Literature’ began being written in English around the 14th century [rather than Latin, as was the practice till then]. The earliest ‘literary’ texts in Gujarati, rather than Sanskrit, appeared in the 12th century. A translator needs to feel proud and confident that the work has a long, strong history. This awareness selects texts for their innate strength, not as samples of exotica for the amused Western reader. Indian writing in English errs the most on this count.”
Translating living authors of Gujarati works, theatre practitioner Naushil Mehta emphasises, “It’s important to have an author freely allow you to express the original’s concerns your own way. Remaining faithful to the text can be detrimental to the project. Taking Gujarati material to English versions, my toughest call is selecting the subject. Not everything travels well into English.”
Mehta’s decision to adapt Madhu Rye’s Gujarati novel, Kimball Ravenswood, into the English play, A Suitable Bride, was a risk in 1996 as Ketan Mehta’s TV series, Mr Yogi, based on the same novel, was already aired. Proving a smash hit in Bombay, A Suitable Bride pulled a memorable performance in Khadakwasla, at the NDA, before 2,500 officer cadets—“The ideal audience for the story of NRI Yogesh Patel come bride-shopping to India,” says Mehta. “Most of those boys might have gone on to undertake Yogesh’s journey in the next few years.”
A colourful 2022 translation is Murali Ranganathan’s The First World War Adventures of Nariman Karkaria. Part memoir-part autobiography-part travelogue, it is possibly the sole trench account by an Indian from 1922, released as a serial in the Jam-e-Jamshed newspaper. Conversant with at least six languages, Ranganathan says, “Living in a cosmopolitan building society in Mulund, as kids we watched great Gujarati and Marathi television shows like Avo Mari Sathe, Kilbil and Santakukdi.” Interpreting the exploits of his Navsari-to-Bombay transplanted protagonist, who survived action on three fronts with a British army regiment, Ranganathan’s biggest task was convincing himself about tackling Karkaria’s Gujarati manuscript without reaching for
a dictionary.
Gujarati was the predominant language of the Parsis till the 1950s. Bombay households read an impressive number of journals in their mother tongue, including Jam-e-Jamshed, Kaiser-e-Hind, Akhbar-e-Saudagar and Mumbai Samachar, the mainstay of every other Gujarati-speaking community.
As Ranganathan said in an interview to Naresh Fernandes of Scroll.in: “All communities were writing but the Parsis took to it aggressively. There were serialised Gujarati translations of Persian classics. The war memoir as a mainstream personal narrative came into being from World War I. Karkaria found willing subscribers for his narrative. Many lost books deserve resurrection in translation.”
Author-publisher Meher Marfatia writes fortnightly on everything that makes her love Mumbai and adore Bombay. You can reach her at meher.marfatia@mid-day.com/www.meher marfatia.com
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REVIEW– It was almost with perfect timing that Fluentalk made available their newest translation device, the Fluentalk T1 Mini. This timing would allow for its use on a previously planned trip to Japan. Exactly how useful is a device like this and do you need a separate device to perform routine translation tasks while traveling the countryside of another country where there is no familiarity with local language both written and spoken. Read on to see how the Fluentalk T1 Mini performed.
What is it?
The Fluentalk T1 Mini is a small, handheld language translation device that is capable of two-way audio (verbal) translation, and one-way visual (camera) translation.
What’s in the box?
Fluentalk T1 Mini
USB-A to USB-C charging cable.
Neck Lanyard
Fluentalk T1 Mini User Guide
Hardware specs
Size: 91 x 54.8 x 13.4 mm
Processor: Quad Core ARM 28 nm 1.28 GHz
RAM: 1G
ROM: 8G
Operating System: Android 10
Screen Size: 2.83” 480 x 640
Camera Resolution: 5 megapixels
Input: Microphone x 2
Output: Speaker x 1
Charging: USB-C 5V 1A
Battery Capacity: 1500 mAh
Communication: WIFI / SIM Card (built in)
Network: 2G/3G/4G LTE
Supported Languages
Supports 36 different languages:
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Arabic / Bulgarian / Cantonese / Catalan / Chinese / Croatian / Czech / Danish / Dutch / English / Finnish / French / German / Greek / Hebrew / Hindi / Hungarian / Indonesian / Italian / Japanese / Korean / Norwegian / Polish / Portuguese / Romanian / Russian / Slovak / Slovenian / Spanish / Swedish / Tamil / Telugu / Thai / Turkish / Ukrainian / Vietnamese
Supports 88 different accents:
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Arabic (Egypt, Algeria, Tunisia, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Oman, United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Bahrain, Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Palestine, Israel); Chinese (Simplified, Traditional, Cantonese); English (United Kingdom, Ireland, USA, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India, Philipines, South Africa, Kenya, Tanzania, Nigeria, Ghana, Singapore); French (France, Canada); Portuguese (Portugal, Brazil); Spanish (Spain, USA, Mexico, Honduras, Nicaragua, Panama, Costa Rica, Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Colombia, Dominica, Ecuador, Guatemala, Peru, Puerto Rico, Paraguay, Uruguay, Venezuela, Salvador); Tamil (India, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Malaysia)
Has 13 offline language pairs:
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Chinese ⇆ English, Japanese, Korean, French, Spanish, Russian, German
English ⇆ Chinese, Japanese, Korean, French, Spanish, Russian, German
As you can see from the above supported language lists, the Fluentalk T1 Mini is a very capable translation device. The Fluentalk T1 Mini has a straightforward interface. Built on top of the Android operating system that monitors two buttons as well as simple screen gestures.
The Fluentalk T1 Mini is accurately labeled a mini because it is small, fitting easily in the palm of your hand. It is light, even when hanging from your neck at the end of the included lanyard.
The Fluentalk T1 Mini can operate in one of two modes: online, via either WIFI or using global cellular data (includes initial free one year subscription), or offline, via stored translation packages. The free global data was used in Japan and allowed the device to be used just about anywhere without any worry of finding WIFI hotspots and such. This ability cannot be overstated.
The top green button is used to wake the unit from standby or to completely power-down or power-up the device.
There are four main screens in the user interface plus a Quick Setting screen and a Shortcut Statement screen. The four main screens are accessed by left and right swipe gestures. These main screens are the Online Translation screen, the Photo or Visual Translation screen, the Offline translation screen, and the Comprehensive Settings screen.
The aforementioned Quick Setting screen, which is accessed by a swiping down gesture allows the user turn on and off the WIFI, select airplane mode, adjust the screen brightness, adjust the font size, access to the user guide, and a short cut to other settings for the device.
The Shortcut Statement screen is revealed by swiping up from the bottom, and immediately begins speaking out the stored sentence in the selected destination language. What is nice about this feature is that when you summon it, it will trigger the unit to immediately speak that saved phrase. The single statement can be modified to your liking from either the Comprehensive Settings screen, or the Quick Settings screen. It would be great if one could store say maybe 10 of these quickly accessed pre-saved statements for instant access.
The Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device is typically (assuming access to cellular data or WIFI) in the online translation screen. The screen to the left of this screen, accessed by a right swipe gesture transitions the user to the Photo Translation screen, a left swipe gesture from the Online Translation screen transitions the device to the Offline Translation screen, and if followed by another left swipe gesture, the device transitions to the Comprehensive Settings screen. The little pills at the bottom of the screen illustrate where one is in the screen navigation.
From the Comprehensive Settings screen several things can be either adjusted or revealed.
The included quickly detachable lanyard is nice, making the unit available on demand and the best part is, you do not have to run down your phone battery using Google Translate or risk dropping your phone, or worse, having it stolen from you if you end up handing the phone to some other person who is disingenuous. Not as big a problem in some countries as in others, but something to think about.
The side talk button is used to activate the Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device’s built-in mics which are located on the top and on the bottom of the device for online audio translation. Simply push the side button and begin speaking into the unit. When you are done, let go of the button and the unit will translate what you said into the chosen destination language almost immediately speaking it out. The speaker is on the top of the unit, along with one of the mics for the other person to reply into if necessary. One thing of note is that the Fluentalk T1 Mini will detect which language is being spoken, based on the two languages selected, and will generate a translation bubble that is blue if the unit detects the language as the source language, or red if it detects the language as the destination language. The translation bubble’s colors mirror the two language pulldowns at the top of the online translation screen.
If a translation is missed, the user can simply tap on the resulting translation bubble to have it speak the translation again. The translated text of the translation is also included in the translation bubbles to allow the destination language speaker to read the translation if necessary. This can be useful as it is possible, as almost anyone who has used speech-to-text knows, that sometimes, that initial speech-to-text translation may contain an error.
The Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device stores all previous translation bubbles, with the newest one at the bottom of the list. The following movie shows how past translations are retrieved, and gives an idea of how the device sounds. Note that to do this I had to change the destination language (red right pull down) before each of the translations.
While the user can delete translation bubbles from the list on what appears to be at the granularity of a single day, it is accomplished by going to the Comprehensive Device Settings screen, choosing System Settings, then Storage Space, which reveals three list entries for online translation records, offline translations records and offline translation packages.
Tapping either of the translation record items will reveal a list of days, with the most recent day at the top, with each day also stating the number of translations that occurred in that day. Simply tap the day you want to delete from the device, then tap the trashcan at the bottom right, and that day’s translations will be deleted. You can delete all the saved translations at once as well from this screen. I did not find any limit to the number of past translations the device will hold. My guess is it is a lot given how much ROM there is on the device.
Back to a typical translation session. While waiting on a reply, you will need to hold down the side button again before the destination language speaker begins to speak. After they are done, releasing the button will trigger the device to translate what was said, back into the source language, always in my case English. Like in the previous case, the resulting translation bubble will contain the resulting text, and hitting the bubble again will cause the unit to respeak the translation. In this case, the user would just listen to the English version of what the destination speaker spoke.
It is worth mentioning that the side button can also be used to wake the device from standby with a longer press. Unlike a wake-up from the top green button, which wakes the device in the last screen it was in, a wake-up from the side button will transition the device immediately to the online translation screen. This allows the user to transition immediately to that screen as soon as the unit wakes up. You will have to hit the side button one more time to turn on the mics, and the unit will then begin listening for the next phrase to translate.
Offline translation, which allows for translations when no network connection is available at all, works similar to what online translation does except instead of using the side button, you use the corresponding on-screen buttons at the bottom of the screen. While the result is much slower than online, the resultant translation bubbles look the same as in online translation. Should you press the side button in the offline mode, you will be transitioned to the online translation screen as mentioned above.
The photo or visual translation screen is used to translate text that appears on anything that you point the device’s camera at.
This works pretty well, although to be fair, running Google Translate is much faster, almost assuredly due to the fact that the iPhone 14 Pro’s processor is orders of magnitude more powerful than the 28nm based processor of the Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device, and thus can isolate text that is part of an image in almost real time.
On the Fluentalk T1 Mini, you must hit the white circular button on the center bottom of the screen once you have framed the text you want to be translated. This action starts off an animation as if the text is being scanned, and when complete, the resulting text is placed over the previous destination language text. There is a convenient button on the bottom right of the screen, that allows the user to switch back and forth between the two. I have included a couple of examples of the device operating in the Photo translation mode. This mode can be a life saver as one would expect.
Setup
The setup is very straight forward. Ensure the Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device is charged. Turning on the device for the very first time, via the green button on the top, will include a set-up of the global data mobile network following device boot-up. I do not have a picture of that, but when changing countries, I was presented with the following.
Should the Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device lose the network, it can easily be restarted again by going to the Comprehensive Setting screen and selecting Network and Connection and then selecting Mobile Data. The WIFI selection allows the user to also log into any of the reachable WIFI connections.
After communication has been established with the internet, the device is ready to use. Simply select the to (destination) and from (source) languages, and you are ready to go.
If you feel you need offline support, simply tap the two languages listed at the top of the Offline Translation screen and choose a language pair to download. You are limited to only four active downloads on the device. You use this same method to switch between already downloaded language pairs as well.
There are only two source languages of each pair that work offline, Chinese and English. Each of these can be translated to and from the six other languages which are listed above. Simply download the pair that you need, and you are good to go from there. You must be connected to WIFI to download an Offline Translation Package language pair.
What I like
Fast Charging (little over an hour from empty to full)
Good Battery Life
Very good onscreen help
Online Manual is excellent
What I’d change
Be able to individually delete previous translations from translation list
Allow for more than one Shortcut Statement to be stored
Final thoughts
In short, the Fluentalk T1 Mini language translation device kind of kicks some serious butt! However, like anything, there is a slight learning curve and experience with the unit before you head out is highly recommended. While the user interface is easy to use, you need to master the subtle nuances of the device to allow the operation of the unit to be more transparent in any translation situation.
I have mentioned the interface above, and you may have noticed in the many captured screens that there are on-screen instructions where appropriate. The User Guide is also very valuable, as it describes, with images, in almost perfect detail how to operate the unit in its various modes of operation. Very nice.
It should be no surprise to anyone that the timing and placement (distance) of the device to a speaker is key. It is also useful to speak clearly in short distinct sentences based on my experience.
While I am not in the process of learning another language, the Fluentalk T1 Mini would be very valuable in learning any of the unit’s supported languages.
The Fluentalk T1 Mini can be a life saver with its global cellular network access. At the conclusion of the first free year, the website advertises that additional global data can be purchased either monthly $14.90 or annually $44.90. I am not sure if that annual number is accurate or not, given how much it is discounted over the monthly rate.
There is not much to complain about with this little device. It is small, light, and easy to use and is specifically designed to be a translation device, which cannot be said for using a phone and an app for a similar purpose.
Price: $149.99 Where to buy: Fluentalk and Amazon Source: The sample of this product was provided Fluentalk.
What happens when a two-word expression you grew up giggling at—hearing family elders describe a morose person—presents itself as the title of a classic? The English edition of the Gujarati novel, Dukhi Dadiba, elicited my curiosity, followed by a wonderful read. 
Aban Mukherji and Tulsi Vatsal, the translators of Dukhi Dadiba
Sitanshu Yashaschandra; (right) Murali Ranganathan, author of The First World War Adventures of Nariman Karkaria 
