“Very Taste Coming!”
Welcome to the new age of scientific advancements, cutting-edge communication technologies and umpteen robot-run wonders. In these modern times, one needs to file one’s faraiz (duties) in time to avoid a slew of punitive measures by the Federal Board of Revenue. In a similar vein, one is strongly advised to desist from playing nasha aawar (addictive) games online at the expense of one’s hard-earned money. As it transpires, there is a common thread that characterises the latent creativity lurking behind some of the above words of wisdom, many generated through online translation tools.
Putting the ‘credit on your head’ (apnay sar par sehra bandhna) to ‘fighting the brain’ (dimagh larana) and ‘stomach worship’ (pait pooja karna), to catching the ‘rats running in the stomach’ (pait main choohay dorna) – the common ground upon which these out-of-this-world phrases and mind-blowing verbal expressions are translated and used (that too without a vestige of responsibility or shame), merit serious scrutiny and critical assessment.
The world no longer remains the same thanks to phenomenal progress that brings us quick-fix solutions and instant answers. Particularly for the doyens of the editing and writing professions, who need a steady temperament and nerves of steel to adapt to the times. Making things worse is the mass approval of loosely translated texts based on incorrect wording.
Considering the literary gems produced by the young, tech-savvy crop of translators in today’s advertising and PR agencies and corporate communication departments, one is left with many questions unanswered, other than blaming Google Translator. The art of translation, this most complex and intricate of genres, is more than merely turning the text from the source language to another. Translation is, above all, about retaining the underlying sense of the original text, along with its meaning, context and nuances. However, as things happen online, time-consuming and laborious tasks like translation have been reduced to the most effortless and undemanding jobs anyone can do.
Computer software that performs automatic translations uses algorithms to translate the original text into the target language as accurately as possible. Since the software is based on algorithms, (in other words, a set of instructions fed into computers as a pre-defined basis for decisions), it can be unbelievably fast and convenient but inaccurate. It often makes translation mistakes, leading to gross misunderstandings.
For instance, there is a difference between a ‘friend in need’ and ‘zaroorat mand dost’ (a friend who needs something).
Consequently, the bumpy course of friendship is a lifelong pursuit that cannot be sacrificed at the altar of Google, offering an ultra-robotic word-to-word, yet contextually incorrect, translation. Might is right, but its translation ‘shayed sahi hai’ is not. “The best is the enemy of the good.” However, Voltaire’s wise saying in Urdu cannot be described as ‘Bhaytreen achai ka dushman hai’ (the best is the enemy of goodness).
Making little to no sense at all, most machine-generated translations cannot be used verbatim. First, it requires a human brain to discriminate between a ‘postman’ and a ‘man of letters’, as the former can never be called ‘khutoot ka admi’. By the same token, following instructions ‘to the letter’ has nothing to do with the letters we post and receive through snail mail and various electronic mailing outlets. The same is true for a ‘French letter’ because a ‘franseesi khat’ is as equally effective in Pakistan and the rest of the world as it is for the French people. A light eater (halka khanay wala) may enjoy a heavy meal as a gourmand does, but in a tad limited quantity, and the head of a light-headed (halke sar wala) man weighs equally to that of a man with seemingly a big head. The term ‘paaidaar taraqqee’ is a wrong, but frequently used, translation of ‘sustainable progress’, and so is ‘halke maslay’.
Manual translation methods have become obsolete, and so have translators. In the past, a genuine bibliophile was measured by the number of dictionaries and thesauruses on his bookshelf. As we fast replace printed books with e-books, apps and portals, it is now a case of Hobson’s choice to ride the tide and conform to the transition period. This inevitable transition, however, should not be at the cost of ruining the language and making the incorrect version public.
When it comes to translation, a host of factors must be considered, along with cultural understanding and linguistic knowledge. Translators are not machine operators, nor is Google Translator a linguistic authority.
The most common errors found in online translations include (but are not limited to) basic grammar and punctuation mistakes, subject-verb agreement, wrong or poor choice of words, misuse and omission of articles and prepositions, along with semantic, lexical, morphological and syntax errors.
The online translation spree can be referred to as the ‘googalisation’ of languages, a technological wonder that is a disservice to the very languages it claims to serve. If algorithm-based online translation is anything to go by, the phrase “very taste coming” (bohat maza aaya), as proposed in jest by leading Urdu scholar and copywriter, Dr Pirzada Sharf-e-Alam, could be the slogan for a local eatery.
A couple of years ago I visited the branch of an international bank in DHA, Karachi. Upon entering the building, I saw that the bank’s notice board had a list of services available, including the facility to pay taxes and faraiz – Google translation at its best. Seth Godin, one of the world’s bestselling authors, says, “You are not your resume; you are your work.” However, the sage phrase appeared in an Urdu newsletter of a leading petroleum marketing company as “Aap kaam shuru nahi kar rehe aap kaam ker rehe hain.”
How can we depend on a resource that cannot read between the lines and is intrinsically confused with homographs, homonyms, homophones, phrasal verbs, and any words, phrases and expressions with multiple meanings? When it comes to proverbs, online translation resources can literally be referred to as a proverbial graveyard, where both Raja Bhoj and Gangu Teli (kahan Raja Bhoj, kahan Gangu Teli) are buried in the same grave despite their stark class differences. This is where you can play ‘the flute in front of a buffalo’ (bhains ke aagay been bajana), act like a ‘humiliated cat’ hell-bent on ‘scratching the pole’ (khisyani billi khamba nochay), or blame a ‘crooked courtyard’ for ‘not knowing how to dance’ (naach na janay aangan tairah).
Thanks to online translation applications, feel free to ‘straighten your owl’ (apna ullu seedha karna), ‘look into your armpits’ (apni baghal main jhankna), ‘cry eight eight tears’ (aath aath aansu rona), ‘let your heart become garden garden’ (dil bagh bagh hojana), and ‘go after anybody after washing your hands’ (haath dho kar peechay parna).
Languages, the ultimate victim of mind-blowing human progress, cannot be handed over to robots.
In this age of machine learning, one wonders why humans are adamant about unlearning what they have already learnt, getting lost and drowned in translations that altogether defy logic and language rules.
“An autograph book is a kind of stable where donkeys and horses are kept together”, says Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi, a leading Urdu humourist and satirist. Unfortunately, the world of online translation has gone further.
Faizan Usmani is Senior Editor, Intersys, an international IT firm.
faizanusmani76@gmail.com
Consequently, the bumpy course of friendship is a lifelong pursuit that cannot be sacrificed at the altar of Google, offering an ultra-robotic word-to-word, yet contextually incorrect, translation. Might is right, but its translation ‘shayed sahi hai’ is not. “The best is the enemy of the good.” However, Voltaire’s wise saying in Urdu cannot be described as ‘Bhaytreen achai ka dushman hai’ (the best is the enemy of goodness).
Making little to no sense at all, most machine-generated translations cannot be used verbatim. First, it requires a human brain to discriminate between a ‘postman’ and a ‘man of letters’, as the former can never be called ‘khutoot ka admi’. By the same token, following instructions ‘to the letter’ has nothing to do with the letters we post and receive through snail mail and various electronic mailing outlets. The same is true for a ‘French letter’ because a ‘franseesi khat’ is as equally effective in Pakistan and the rest of the world as it is for the French people. A light eater (halka khanay wala) may enjoy a heavy meal as a gourmand does, but in a tad limited quantity, and the head of a light-headed (halke sar wala) man weighs equally to that of a man with seemingly a big head. The term ‘paaidaar taraqqee’ is a wrong, but frequently used, translation of ‘sustainable progress’, and so is ‘halke maslay’.
Manual translation methods have become obsolete, and so have translators. In the past, a genuine bibliophile was measured by the number of dictionaries and thesauruses on his bookshelf. As we fast replace printed books with e-books, apps and portals, it is now a case of Hobson’s choice to ride the tide and conform to the transition period. This inevitable transition, however, should not be at the cost of ruining the language and making the incorrect version public.
When it comes to translation, a host of factors must be considered, along with cultural understanding and linguistic knowledge. Translators are not machine operators, nor is Google Translator a linguistic authority.
The most common errors found in online translations include (but are not limited to) basic grammar and punctuation mistakes, subject-verb agreement, wrong or poor choice of words, misuse and omission of articles and prepositions, along with semantic, lexical, morphological and syntax errors.
The online translation spree can be referred to as the ‘googalisation’ of languages, a technological wonder that is a disservice to the very languages it claims to serve. If algorithm-based online translation is anything to go by, the phrase “very taste coming” (bohat maza aaya), as proposed in jest by leading Urdu scholar and copywriter, Dr Pirzada Sharf-e-Alam, could be the slogan for a local eatery.
A couple of years ago I visited the branch of an international bank in DHA, Karachi. Upon entering the building, I saw that the bank’s notice board had a list of services available, including the facility to pay taxes and faraiz – Google translation at its best. Seth Godin, one of the world’s bestselling authors, says, “You are not your resume; you are your work.” However, the sage phrase appeared in an Urdu newsletter of a leading petroleum marketing company as “Aap kaam shuru nahi kar rehe aap kaam ker rehe hain.”
How can we depend on a resource that cannot read between the lines and is intrinsically confused with homographs, homonyms, homophones, phrasal verbs, and any words, phrases and expressions with multiple meanings? When it comes to proverbs, online translation resources can literally be referred to as a proverbial graveyard, where both Raja Bhoj and Gangu Teli (kahan Raja Bhoj, kahan Gangu Teli) are buried in the same grave despite their stark class differences. This is where you can play ‘the flute in front of a buffalo’ (bhains ke aagay been bajana), act like a ‘humiliated cat’ hell-bent on ‘scratching the pole’ (khisyani billi khamba nochay), or blame a ‘crooked courtyard’ for ‘not knowing how to dance’ (naach na janay aangan tairah).
Thanks to online translation applications, feel free to ‘straighten your owl’ (apna ullu seedha karna), ‘look into your armpits’ (apni baghal main jhankna), ‘cry eight eight tears’ (aath aath aansu rona), ‘let your heart become garden garden’ (dil bagh bagh hojana), and ‘go after anybody after washing your hands’ (haath dho kar peechay parna).
Languages, the ultimate victim of mind-blowing human progress, cannot be handed over to robots.
In this age of machine learning, one wonders why humans are adamant about unlearning what they have already learnt, getting lost and drowned in translations that altogether defy logic and language rules.
“An autograph book is a kind of stable where donkeys and horses are kept together”, says Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi, a leading Urdu humourist and satirist. Unfortunately, the world of online translation has gone further.
Faizan Usmani is Senior Editor, Intersys, an international IT firm.
faizanusmani76@gmail.com
The most common errors found in online translations include (but are not limited to) basic grammar and punctuation mistakes, subject-verb agreement, wrong or poor choice of words, misuse and omission of articles and prepositions, along with semantic, lexical, morphological and syntax errors.
The online translation spree can be referred to as the ‘googalisation’ of languages, a technological wonder that is a disservice to the very languages it claims to serve. If algorithm-based online translation is anything to go by, the phrase “very taste coming” (bohat maza aaya), as proposed in jest by leading Urdu scholar and copywriter, Dr Pirzada Sharf-e-Alam, could be the slogan for a local eatery.
A couple of years ago I visited the branch of an international bank in DHA, Karachi. Upon entering the building, I saw that the bank’s notice board had a list of services available, including the facility to pay taxes and faraiz – Google translation at its best. Seth Godin, one of the world’s bestselling authors, says, “You are not your resume; you are your work.” However, the sage phrase appeared in an Urdu newsletter of a leading petroleum marketing company as “Aap kaam shuru nahi kar rehe aap kaam ker rehe hain.”
How can we depend on a resource that cannot read between the lines and is intrinsically confused with homographs, homonyms, homophones, phrasal verbs, and any words, phrases and expressions with multiple meanings? When it comes to proverbs, online translation resources can literally be referred to as a proverbial graveyard, where both Raja Bhoj and Gangu Teli (kahan Raja Bhoj, kahan Gangu Teli) are buried in the same grave despite their stark class differences. This is where you can play ‘the flute in front of a buffalo’ (bhains ke aagay been bajana), act like a ‘humiliated cat’ hell-bent on ‘scratching the pole’ (khisyani billi khamba nochay), or blame a ‘crooked courtyard’ for ‘not knowing how to dance’ (naach na janay aangan tairah).
Thanks to online translation applications, feel free to ‘straighten your owl’ (apna ullu seedha karna), ‘look into your armpits’ (apni baghal main jhankna), ‘cry eight eight tears’ (aath aath aansu rona), ‘let your heart become garden garden’ (dil bagh bagh hojana), and ‘go after anybody after washing your hands’ (haath dho kar peechay parna).
Languages, the ultimate victim of mind-blowing human progress, cannot be handed over to robots.
In this age of machine learning, one wonders why humans are adamant about unlearning what they have already learnt, getting lost and drowned in translations that altogether defy logic and language rules.
“An autograph book is a kind of stable where donkeys and horses are kept together”, says Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi, a leading Urdu humourist and satirist. Unfortunately, the world of online translation has gone further.
Faizan Usmani is Senior Editor, Intersys, an international IT firm.
faizanusmani76@gmail.com
In this age of machine learning, one wonders why humans are adamant about unlearning what they have already learnt, getting lost and drowned in translations that altogether defy logic and language rules.
“An autograph book is a kind of stable where donkeys and horses are kept together”, says Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi, a leading Urdu humourist and satirist. Unfortunately, the world of online translation has gone further.
Faizan Usmani is Senior Editor, Intersys, an international IT firm. faizanusmani76@gmail.com
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