Diasporic Short Story - A Co(w)untry Problem! - V.N. Giritharan | Englsh translation by Google Nano Banana!

This English translation of the Tamil story by Google Nano Banana is amazing. I never expected such a nice, smooth-flowing translation. This is one of AI's positive contributions to mankind. The original Tamil version of the story follows the translation.- v.n.g

[Digiat Art (Google Nano Banana) help: VNG ]

[This short story, published in 'Thayagam' (Canada) newspaper, is included in the 'America' collection published by Sneha Pathippagam. It is also featured in the short story collection 'Panaiyum Paniyum' compiled and published by ES.Po and Indira Parthasarathy.]

Being Sunday, there wasn't much pedestrian traffic on the routine roads. No vehicle congestion either. Ponnaiya's Honda Accord was slowly cruising west on St. Clair. Ponnaiya loved driving on Sundays or holidays. Without any tension, and without worrying about horns honking behind him, he could enjoy the city at a leisurely pace, couldn't he? However, lately, even on Sundays, people had started honking. The city was expanding. "As the city expands, people seem to lose their patience," Ponnaiya would tell himself on such occasions. "The quality of life for people should rise at the same pace as the city's growth. Otherwise, it's a problem," he would sometimes ponder with a serious expression.

The car sped past Old Weston Road and the Keele Intersection. To the left, Canada Packers' slaughterhouse sprawled over a large area. A massive abattoir where hundreds of cattle were cut up daily.

Ponnaiya was naturally a little compassionate. He wanted to show love to other living beings. As long as he was in his hometown, he was a pure vegetarian. After coming here, he gradually changed. "With this climate here, if you don't eat this, a person will just die." Suddenly, the moving traffic stopped. Ponnaiya looked at his watch. It was past eleven. The Punjabi guy had asked him to come at ten.

The Punjabi's garage was the only reasonably honest one Ponnaiya knew. There had been a slight tremor in the steering wheel since yesterday. Ponnaiya was rushing to get it checked. "What's this traffic block at an odd time..." Thinking this, he looked ahead to see what was causing the traffic jam.

Short Story: A CO(W)UNTRY ISSUE By V.N.Giritharan | English Translation From Tamil By Latha Ramakrishnan | Edited by Betsy Harrell (USA)

[Digiat Art (Google Nano Banana) help: VNG ]

As it was Sunday the road looked less crowded than usual. No traffic jam, either. Ponnaiya’s Honda Accord was creeping smoothly along St.Clair West. Driving a car during Sundays or holidays was Ponnaiya’s passion, so to speak. With no tension and no worry about some one honking the horn behind, he could drive leisurely, indulging in sight-seeing and so enjoying the city. A pleasure, indeed. Alas, the point arrived where Sundays were no longer a day without the honking horns. The city was growing day by day. As it swelled, the people, too, were starting to lose their patience, so at times like this Ponnaiya would tell himself , “As fast as the growth of the city, people’s standard of living should also grow. Otherwise, problems are bound to multiply”.

Going past Old Weston road and also Keele’s intersection, the car meandered along. On the left side, the Beef Packers slaughterhouse has spread, occupying a vast space. A great, grand butcher house stood there where hundreds of cows were put to death and cut to pieces every day. By nature, Ponnaiya was kind -hearted. He would prefer to love one and all living beings. As long as he was in his native place he had remained a strict Vegetarian. But after coming here, he gradually changed. Yet for the kind of climate prevailing here, if man is not to eat meat he would be gone in no time!

Suddenly, the creeping traffic was disrupted. Ponnaiya looked at his watch. It was well past eleven o’clock. The Punjabiwallah had asked him to come by ten. The one garage that Ponnaiya knew to be fair was the Punjabiwala’s. There was a slight jerk in the steering of the car and ever since yesterday Ponnaiya had been anxious to take it in. But What is this untimely traffic jam? Wondering, he looked in front to find out what was the matter.

A crowd had gathered as if for a carnival. Ponnaiya reflected how in their bent for curiosity all men are one and the same. As there stood a huge Beef Packers’ truck blocking his view, he couldn’t see clearly. Looking at a chinese man who was standing at the road side watching what was happening, Ponnaiya called out. “Hi man, what is the matter? What’s going on?”

The Chinese with the help of the little English that he knew , said, “Beef..escape…slaughter.” A White man who was standing next to him laughed at his broken English. Ponnaiya also felt like laughing. Both had understood though. A cow had escaped from the slaughterhouse.

Short Story: An American and a camel in Alaska! By V.N.Giritharan

It was noon, a cloudy day with a sunless sky expanding to the horizon. It was one of those regular visits to the Thorncliffe Park Library, a branch of the Toronto Public Library, with my daughter. She would spend at least an hour there. In the meantime, I had to occupy my time reading a few books or magazines of interest.

While I was looking for an interesting read, I saw him approaching me. That was the first and, as it turned out, the last time I met him. In his six-foot-tall frame, he resembled Sidney Poitier, the famous Hollywood actor from the 1960s.

"May I help you, friend?" he asked me.

He was not a library staff member but a hired security guard.

"No thanks, but I appreciate the offer," I said as I continued my search for a book.

I thought he was going to leave me. But, he continued to stay beside me and carry on his conversation.