The Translator

At 25, Dibyajyoti Sarma thought life is beautiful, and he had seen it all (He was in love, of course.). By the time he turns 33 (he refuses to grow any more), he has made some terrible choices, is single, and realises that he doesn’t know about anything any more, except that there would be many more choices to make. He is weary of these choices, as he continues live in a wasteland between hope and remorse. He knows he’s mediocre, always striving to overcome it. He wants to do so many things at the same time that he loses focus (that he is genetically lazy, being from Assam in the North East of India, doesn’t help either). He was trained to be a college teacher, now works as a newspaper ‘deskie’, realises the importance of money, but it’s too late already to be rich. Aspires to be a published author, but doubts whether it’s in him. An optimist when not going through bouts of clinical depression, which is almost everyday. He continues to dream of a better existence, when Rabindranath whispers in his ears: “I don’t get what I want, I don't like what I get...”