Language Arcadia
Sharing the love of languages
Inside Columbia University’s grand library, where whispers merged with the rustle of pages, Imran, sporting short-cropped hair and eyes gleaming with mischief, prodded, “Why the obsession with the past, Noor? Akkadian? Might as well be from the Stone Age.”
Noor, with her hair neatly tied back, responded with practiced patience, meeting his teasing gaze. “Languages, Imran, never truly fade. Through them, voices from ages gone by still shape our world.”
Glancing at the Mandarin textbook beside him, she quipped, “It isn’t always about being current.”
Chuckling, Imran tapped his Mandarin book. “This connects me to billions today. Your Akkadian? Echoes from yesteryears.”
With a hint of defiance, Noor said, “Through Akkadian, the ancients speak. Does your Mandarin have such depth?”
Feigning contemplation, Imran replied, “Maybe not. But it sure helps me get some delicious dumplings. Care to share?”
She shook her head, a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Honestly, Imran…”
His grin was unabashed. “You love our debates, admit it.”
“Sometimes I question our friendship. But I’d never turn down your dumplings” she giggled.
“Great,” said Imran, a hint of seriousness creeping into Imran’s eyes. “Because you’ll be paying for both of us as a thank-you.”
He took a paper from his bag, unfolding it to reveal an ad for the Metropolitan Museum’s upcoming Mesopotamian exhibit, “I heard from a friend in the curatorial department that they’re struggling with some cuneiform inscriptions.”
Noor eyed the flyer with interest, her previous annoyance momentarily forgotten. “And?”
Imran smirked, “And… I might have mentioned that I know my own little Akkadian who could help. Think you’re up for it?”
Noor, taken aback by the gesture, took a moment to process. “You did that?”
“Well,” he shrugged with feigned nonchalance, “It’s not every day my friend gets to shine outside this library. And, who knows? Maybe after this, you’ll admit there’s some modern relevance to your ‘echoes from yesteryears.’ I told them you were the best – and very expensive.”
Over the following weeks, Noor’s compelling translations at the exhibit drew increasing crowds.
Scholars, students, and curious onlookers marveled at the ancient inscriptions. Word spread, and the city began to take notice.
Soon, coffee shops near the museum began naming drinks after ancient deities, and local artists incorporated cuneiform script into their murals.
The city was abuzz with an Akkadian craze.
Trendy pop-up events offering crash courses in the language started to appear, and social media influencers flaunted their rudimentary cuneiform tattoos.
The next day, as Noor entered the library, Imran greeted her with an amused expression, holding up a local magazine with the headline: “Akkadian: NYC’s Retro Trend for 2023!” With a wink, he teased, “Look at that! Your dead friends are today’s hottest trend. And to think you used to call Mandarin modern!”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Noor laughed, “Well, I did say Akkadian shapes civilizations. I just never imagined it would shape New York City’s hipster scene!”
“And to top it all, I saw cuneiform today on a subway ad. The phrase was ‘What’s your telephone number?’ With that annoying green owl winking in the corner. We’ve reached Peak Akkadian. The height of Sumer! You’ll finally have someone to talk to.”
Noor raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Very punny, Imran. But I don’t give my cell number out to anyone, no matter how good their Akkadian is.”
“Challenge accepted,” Imran shot back with a playful smirk. “My tongue is pretty flexible, Noor, teach me some Akkadian and see if you can resist. Maybe a swear word or two for when my Mandarin class gets too intense?”
Noor’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not a toy, Imran. And for your information, I doubt ancient Mesopotamians said things quite like we do. But fine,” she sighed, scribbling on a piece of paper, “this is ‘lemnutu’, meaning ‘cursed’. Use it wisely.”
He chuckled, looking at the script. “Lem-what now? Sounds catchy.”
The ensuing weeks saw Akkadian memes, apps, and cuneiform merchandise pop up, leading Imran to an idea. “You know, Noor, if you can’t join ‘em, beat ‘em.”
Noor raised an eyebrow, “What do you have in mind?”
“Why not start our own YouTube channel? ‘Language Arcadia’ – where you teach authentic ancient languages and I… well, provide a modern spin?”
Noor hesitated. “Imran, it’s not about competing. It’s about preserving the essence of the language.”
Imran winked, “And what better way than to make it go viral for the right reasons? Think about it, Noor. We provide an authentic platform against the tide of oversimplification.”
After some thought, Noor agreed, and “Language Arcadia” was born on YouTube.
Their first video, where Noor explained the origins of Akkadian, went viral.
Subsequent videos, whether they were teaching phrases or sharing tales, always had Imran adding a modern spin, making it relatable.
As the subscribers grew, so did the hours they spent together researching, scripting, and recording created opportunities late-night discussions over steaming cups of coffee, and artistic disagreements that turned into laughter.
One evening, as the golden hues of sunset bathed Noor’s cozy apartment in a warm glow, Imran paused during their recording setup, captivated by the view of the New York skyline from her window.
“You know,” he began hesitantly, “between Akkadian translations and Chinese dumplings, I think we’ve missed the most obvious language of all.”
Noor, puzzled, asked, “And what language is that?”
“I really don’t think you’ve come across it before. It’s an ancient language. No words. And best spoken with just one other person,” he turned back to face her.
She blushed, took out her pony tail and stepped forward. “Shut up and ask me in Akkadian.”
“How about my first word – Lemnutu?”
“Close enough.”
The city lights outside shimmered, as they leaned in together, sealing their very first kiss.
Look away if you don’t want to learn how the sausage is made… otherwise continue to get the backstory here:
