My Language

I

Language: a phenomenon that is, to the best of our current knowledge, unique to humans in its usage and complexity, if not existence. It is in fact believed to be one of the major contributing factors to our evolution. Our ability to communicate virtually unlimited ideas, to pass on a wide array of knowledge, to discuss and share imagined realities has been vital to our cultural revolution. As such, language is a large part of our society. It is also an important aspect of our personal lives.

Homo sapiens are one of the, if not the, most widespread animals on the planet. We have crossed oceans, traversed deserts and even braved the tundra many thousands of years before the advent of any form of civilisation. This has resulted in astounding diversity, not genetically but culturally. And languages can be considered the roadmap to these cultures. Estimates suggest that there are over 7000 languages in the world right now, not even considering the many dialects in each of them.

Rapid globalisation and increased interconnectivity between people from all corners of the planet has long been fanning the flames of multilingualism. Today, over 40% of the world’s population can speak at least two languages with almost equal fluency.  English, the language that has the most speakers today and is becoming increasingly prevalent as a common language for science, business, politics and even entertainment, is more often than not the second language non-native speakers learn.

I speak of this first to establish the regard in which I hold language. I believe words have the power to shape our reality and it is language that gives them meaning. I am also one of those bilingual non-native speakers who learnt English.

II

I am Indian. My grandparents speak a dialect of their people that I have never learnt, though I instinctively understand most of it if only for its familiarity. But my native tongue is doubtlessly my country’s mother tongue: Hindi. It is the first language I ever heard, it is the language of the lullabies that had soothed me and the stories that had enthralled me. It is the language with which I made my first friends and played my first games. It is complex, yes, but almost logical (for I doubt there exists any truly logical language), or least largely consistent, and is undoubtedly a beautiful language.

In contrast, English language is simply weird. The grammar is inconsistent and riddled with exceptions, the phrases are often illogical and occasionally oxymoronic, and even after all these years I am terrible at predicting the oftentimes ridiculous spellings. I can never tell if the ‘i’ should go before the ‘e’, if a comma is necessary here or not, which particular sound is attributed to that group of letters and if it should change in another word, where there are hidden, apparently randomly, silent letters and so on. Not to mention the myriad of complications created by torturous concepts like homophones, homographs and contronyms.

I began attending English- medium schools when I was two years old and had once thought of English as a nightmare. It was a language we spoke only when absolutely necessary in class and sometimes not even then. Speaking Hindi otherwise had not even registered as a breach of rules or an act of rebellion.

My parents were concerned to learn of my ambivalence to the global lingua franca. They had both experienced the sudden shift from Hindi medium to English medium when they began college and had struggled to adapt. In fact, it had even adversely affected their grades in the beginning. They would hardly want the same for me. So, they resolved to instil in me a familiarity with the language from a young age. It seemed to my young mind that, almost overnight, English became the most common language spoken in my home.

III

To claim something as yours, especially when it comes to intangible, unownable things, is to express a degree of familiarity or attachment to it, to elevate it above others of its kind. The same is true of languages.

Monolinguals can do this with ease. The only language that they speak is theirs. But even multilingual individuals must claim a language of their own.

There was a tale, an Akbar-Birbal story, of an accomplished polyglot who challenged the court of Emperor Akbar, including Birbal, one of his nine chief advisors or navaratanas, to figure out his language. Birbal’s unsurprisingly successful plan had been to terrify the man and observe his reaction, for he believed that one resorts to the language they are most comfortable with in times of great distress or heightened emotion.

A person’s language is the one that they are most familiar with and at ease in using. It is the language that lies at the back of their minds, is most often in their thoughts and requires no conscious effort to speak. This language need not be their native tongue, though it most often is.

IV

I had started off with Hindi as my language.

But the only thing constant in life is change.

It happened thus: in front of the television, five years old, no more than a child, enthralled by Barbie and Disney. Crying when they weren’t available. Watching them in English simply because Hindi was not always an option.

It happened thus: in a classroom, seven years old, bushy tailed and already wishing to be more than average, hearing a friend brag about reading complex novels on his own. Going to the nearest Crossword Bookstore that very week and buying Matilda and finishing it in a day. Falling in love with the girl and the book and reading in general and always always hungering for more.

It happened thus: at home, nine years old, bright-eyed, looking at the subject selection form in my hands. Hesitating a bit too long over the Hindi versus French choice. Almost choosing a foreign language over my own.

It happened thus: in an exam hall, eleven years old, still eager to learn, writing a Hindi essay and not finding the words. Realising that the essay was a translation. Naturally thinking of my ideas in English instead of my native tongue.

It happened thus: in a school bus, thirteen years old, still quite young, being challenged by a friend to speak only in Hindi for the next ten minutes. Failing. Unable to stop slipping into English even over such a short time.

It happened thus: in bed, fifteen years old, somewhat more mature, acknowledging the simple truth -

Hindi is not my language. Not anymore. English is.

V

English is my language. It is the language I speak in school and at home, with my family and my friends. But more importantly it is the language I read in and study in (I shudder at the thought of learning physics in any other). It is the current language of science, my desired career path. And most importantly, it is the language I think and dream in.

I am Indian. By heritage, by birth, by nationality I am Indian. But more than that, I am Khwaish: student, reader, thinker and dreamer.

Hindi is my mother tongue, the first language I ever learned. But it is English, with all its headache inducing rules and unfathomable spellings, that is my language.