[This is the first (and possibly the last) debate article I'm posting on this blog. As a debate, this topic has special relevance to me personally.
Dedicated to Siddharth Bhattacharya, whose blog is filled with such articles, and who will hopefully post an article on this too.]
This 14th of September was celebrated as 'Hindi Divas'. Keeping to the context, Cabinet Minister Kapil Sibal proposed a 3 language system of education: English, Hindi and Regional Language. And Sunday the 20th, featured this Language Debate on NDTV's We The People show. Here, I am going to give a summary of what I had heard in that debate.
Broadly speaking, the debate touched upon issues of language elitism, and the identity-connectivity requirement of language.
First of all, it is debatable whether each language considers itself superior to the other or not. In any case, there is a sense of 'language pride'. Those who have english are supposedly at a higher class as compared to those who don't have it. At the same time, without hindi or the regional language, survivial would not be easy. Lets consider the kind of people who are equipped with one and not the other.
People who know english and not hindi think that it sets them apart from the masses. They feel that they are able to rise in their careers and in their social circles because of it. They consider those who don't know english as people who are uneducated. Kids educated through the convent education are imparted with english elitism, whether it is in the movies they watch, songs they listen to, or culture they embrace. Now coming to the hindi walas, they feel that they are the real people, like the english ones are fake of sorts. This feeling of authenticity is the main cause of hindi elitism. They consider non-hindi speaking people outsiders, unworthy of being Indian as such. This is just the elitist view of either side.
The identity-connectivity requirement of languages just gives us an excuse to embrace other languages. "English is highly required to get along in the outside world", "Hindi is essential to survival in North India"; or else, "Hindi is the national language. It shows your being Indian" and "Your mother tongue gives you the feeling of who you are in this multicultural India." All these are various reasons for needing a language, whether it is to prosper, or for your sense of identity.
If we look at a few viewpoints of this debate, a lot of people are happy with the way things are and feel there is no need for change. "I was once given the choice to learn Hindi, or German. I chose German. I had thought, 'why would I need to learn hindi?!'", was one such view. It came from one who knew hindi, but felt it would not benefit her if she learnt it. The panelists all agreed that nowadays there are different kinds of english all over the world; that the U.K. English differed from the U.S. English and so why don't we just embrace our own form of Hinglish? With the Oxford Dictionary accepting words such as 'Jai Ho', such a thing is inevitable and certainly acceptable.
Some of the adults in the panel and in the audience tried taking the child's view. "First the child learns his mother tongue. Then he goes to school and has to learn English, Hindi as well as his regional language. What are we trying to do to them?!" Other views involved the decline of certain languages which did not have a region associated to it. Languages like Konkani and Urdu which don't have any region to belong to as such would decline under Sibal's '3-language-system' of education. One of the panelists knew as many as 5 languages. "I know English and Hindi out of experience. Being Muslim, I know Urdu as my mother tongue. Having been born and brought up in Maharashtra, I know Marathi. Since I am currently living in Chennai, I know Tamil. In spite of knowing these 5 languages, I am happy if my children know only English, Hindi and Tamil." was her viewpoint.
At the end of the day, I guess people found this system nothing short of 'forcing languages down people's throats'. A better solution to this problem of linking different-language people while simultaneously not adversely affecting the identity concerns of an individual is that of translations. If someone from the south wants to speak in the Parliament in Tamil for example, why should he be disallowed? Aren't there interpreters at hand to translate what he says into the other languages? If you have a work of literature, wouldn't it be a good business strategy to translate it into another language and get recognition? Why force languages down people's throats when such a solution (if not easy to implement, is atleast feasible) exists?
You might think that this entire topic does not merit debate. If you feel this way, I would just request you to for a moment imagine yourself as a monolingual person. Imagine you know just english, and no regional language, no national language, no mother tongue. Imagine yourself without the 'identity' of your ancestors. Imagine yourself without the 'identity' of your region. Imagine yourself unable to communicate with 'the common man'. And imagine your peers treating you as a linguistic hero who owns a property that they'd hope to imbibe by virtue of being in your company. Imagine of all the things, they are jealous of your english. Now tell me that this does not merit debate.
Sunday 27 September, 2009
Saturday 12 September, 2009
My Dream Hug
[A hug is very nearly the ultimate form/expression of support. Here, I'd just like to share an 'experience' I had not long ago; wherein I received my dream hug from someone in need of support (and hugged her back duuh!). Dedicated to this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4]
It was early morning in the airport: you know those low-cost flights which charge you cheap and make you stay up the previous night cuz theres no point sleeping just 2 hours when you gotta reach the airport at like 0430 hours. So anyway, it was early morning, it was in the airport, and we were all half conscious as anyone would be if they hadn't slept a night and had no reason to be excited. The unpolluted air of the early morning Bangalore air (ya, weird phrase) had me wheezing throughout the journey to the airport. Swine flu had broken out, and I feared I would be sent for testing or what-not, and might even end up missing my flight.
But that was half-worry. The wheezing was like most early-morning wheezings and was just a temporary phase between getting my body into action and getting my body used to the action. Ya, so it was temporary. As with it, so was my worry.
In the airport, there were a few people in masks. Actually, hardly anyone, but that was the first time I had got to see a swine flu mask. I vividly remember looking at some kind of bulletin board when it happened. Somehow, my vivid memory tells me that the bulletin board was very like the black pin-up-letters board in our hostel where the reps' and secys' names are pinned up. Anyhow, so here I am, looking up at this bulletin board, and then from behind me comes a young lady. I guess she'd be hardly 6 years older than me, with keen piercing eyes behind spectacles, a scarf around her neck due to the cold early morning of Bangalore, and just generally looking fairly hep. She was wearing a mask.
Shortly after her, came another youngster female. This one was wearing I think jeans and a green T-shirt: green of a shade a bit darker than my favourite light green T-shirt. She was coughing and sneezing away, and as I looked, a lot of people were blatantly avoiding her. The previous female then said aloud, “Why don't you get yourself tested, dear?!”, then walked up to her, tapped her on her cheek, and walked on. The poor sick girl then broke down, turned towards us sitting in our seats, and croaked emotionally, “Could anyone give me a hug?” (I think thats what she said, unless it was something like, “Anyone want a hug?” as a plea of mutual need.)
I guess I felt a kind of empathy then. After all, I had myself felt the fear the of rejection and the fear of being an odd-one-out merely because of a little wheezing on my way to the airport. On that impulse, I stood up and walked towards her. She gave me a very emotional sort of smile and extended her arms as she approached.
We embraced then. Hugged, whatever. Now, I have hugged, and been hugged before this, but the moment I did it, I knew it was the ultimate hug, the perfect hug, my dream hug! We leaned into each other, her head on my shoulder, mine on her head. Our bodies leaning into each other had both of us siphon off our troubles, dissipating into the air by themselves. It was a relief physically as well, our bodies' cushoining the other's. There were no words spoken, and yet as if psychically, we knew how to cling to each other.
Inevitably, it ended. I turned away and went back to my seat. For a while, my mind was blank, my breaths deep, calm. It was a fleeting few moments, shared with a complete stranger, and yet so much more beautiful than most times with friends. It was born out of probably mutual need, and in the end, it left us both feeling whole and satisfied.
This truly and literally, was my dream hug.
[I wanna know what you think of the flow; how much does this hold you. And whether the important parts have been dealt with satisfactorily, or there is some discrepancy in how the description is overdone at some places etc]
It was early morning in the airport: you know those low-cost flights which charge you cheap and make you stay up the previous night cuz theres no point sleeping just 2 hours when you gotta reach the airport at like 0430 hours. So anyway, it was early morning, it was in the airport, and we were all half conscious as anyone would be if they hadn't slept a night and had no reason to be excited. The unpolluted air of the early morning Bangalore air (ya, weird phrase) had me wheezing throughout the journey to the airport. Swine flu had broken out, and I feared I would be sent for testing or what-not, and might even end up missing my flight.
But that was half-worry. The wheezing was like most early-morning wheezings and was just a temporary phase between getting my body into action and getting my body used to the action. Ya, so it was temporary. As with it, so was my worry.
In the airport, there were a few people in masks. Actually, hardly anyone, but that was the first time I had got to see a swine flu mask. I vividly remember looking at some kind of bulletin board when it happened. Somehow, my vivid memory tells me that the bulletin board was very like the black pin-up-letters board in our hostel where the reps' and secys' names are pinned up. Anyhow, so here I am, looking up at this bulletin board, and then from behind me comes a young lady. I guess she'd be hardly 6 years older than me, with keen piercing eyes behind spectacles, a scarf around her neck due to the cold early morning of Bangalore, and just generally looking fairly hep. She was wearing a mask.
Shortly after her, came another youngster female. This one was wearing I think jeans and a green T-shirt: green of a shade a bit darker than my favourite light green T-shirt. She was coughing and sneezing away, and as I looked, a lot of people were blatantly avoiding her. The previous female then said aloud, “Why don't you get yourself tested, dear?!”, then walked up to her, tapped her on her cheek, and walked on. The poor sick girl then broke down, turned towards us sitting in our seats, and croaked emotionally, “Could anyone give me a hug?” (I think thats what she said, unless it was something like, “Anyone want a hug?” as a plea of mutual need.)
I guess I felt a kind of empathy then. After all, I had myself felt the fear the of rejection and the fear of being an odd-one-out merely because of a little wheezing on my way to the airport. On that impulse, I stood up and walked towards her. She gave me a very emotional sort of smile and extended her arms as she approached.
We embraced then. Hugged, whatever. Now, I have hugged, and been hugged before this, but the moment I did it, I knew it was the ultimate hug, the perfect hug, my dream hug! We leaned into each other, her head on my shoulder, mine on her head. Our bodies leaning into each other had both of us siphon off our troubles, dissipating into the air by themselves. It was a relief physically as well, our bodies' cushoining the other's. There were no words spoken, and yet as if psychically, we knew how to cling to each other.
Inevitably, it ended. I turned away and went back to my seat. For a while, my mind was blank, my breaths deep, calm. It was a fleeting few moments, shared with a complete stranger, and yet so much more beautiful than most times with friends. It was born out of probably mutual need, and in the end, it left us both feeling whole and satisfied.
This truly and literally, was my dream hug.
[I wanna know what you think of the flow; how much does this hold you. And whether the important parts have been dealt with satisfactorily, or there is some discrepancy in how the description is overdone at some places etc]
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