This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, each of us examined the concept of ‘LANGUAGE’.
I have a similarly complex relationship with my mother tongue. For starters, I don't have just one. I am a Tamilian born and brought up in Kerala, thinking and reading most freely in English, and living all my adult life in Karnataka. My fluency varies wildly across these languages but after English, Malayalam comes closest.
You've written about how the works of Marathi writers was more real and meaningful to you. Funnily enough, this very realism and relatability are what make it difficult for me to read Malayalam literature. It hits too close to the bone. It hurts in a way that English, with its slight distancing, doesn't. I can be a dispassionate observer when I read in English—I simply cannot in Malayalam. Escapism, I admit. :)
I can totally relate to this feeling of being too close to the bone, in my case it is music of any kind or genre. I am uncomfortable of its power over me and I feel I cannot enjoy it fully as it can be bit all-consuming. Which is why I only recently realized that while I do listen to music, I do not recognize myself as an "audiophile". From a writing standpoint, your comment reminded me JM Coetzee's writing. Even in his most autobiographical work do you see a distance he maintains, which is where his storytelling mastery comes from I feel. Thanks for sharing!
You have read Rohinton Mistry's works! He is one author whose every book has made a mark in my life. I have only read two until now, but I am looking forward to know more! Glad to know that you are also a Rohinton Mistry fan.
Yes, me too. I've only read Family Matters and A Fine Balance. Fine Balance changed me. It made me realize what can be achieved with Indian storytelling in English. It is the one book I recommend to anyone no matter what their tastes :)
Have never thought of my mother tongue as an "incidental inheritance" as you put it, but it's actually so true, now that I think about it. How easy is it for us to treat language simply as a conduit - a means to an end.
I personally feel no particular attachment to my mother tongue (Telugu) having grown up in a Hindi-speaking environment in Gujarat. As someone who's passionately against Hindi imposition, I wish I could call Telugu "my own", but I've grown to accept that Hindi probably is that language for me (sed face). I often try to look at the bright side of things and tell myself that I could have a deeply personal relationship (the kind of relationship you describe having with Marathi here) with any language that I continue to remain in touch with all my life. But I then wonder if it's truly possible. If I chose to learn, say, Basque tomorrow - YES I'd probably know how to form complicated questions and negate things and understand works of literature - but I still wouldn't have the exposure that a child growing up with Basque would.
Which makes me wonder if language is essentially a really old habit that some of us grow out of. Wow you might've made me want to brush up on some Telugu lol.
I share your concerns about how closely we can accept a foreign language as our own in the same way as our mother tongue. I feel a gap, no matter how small, will continue to exist in our sense of ownership to it, no matter how much we claim otherwise (This is speaking from experience from learning a foegin language myself).
Language is first and foremost a means of communication no doubt. Given that there were hardly any kids of my age speaking Marathi around me, I didn't have the impetus to keep using it and that's where I lost touch with I feel.
Then again, it also is a vital store house of the cultural identity and values of a community. These I felt have been transmitted to me by my family even if I didn't use the language frequently myself. Making an intentional effort to connect with the language gave me a sense of being rooted and secure and I feel that's partly because I was able to resonate with those dormant values. Glad you felt the need to reconnect with your own mother tongue and wish you the best :)
I have a similarly complex relationship with my mother tongue. For starters, I don't have just one. I am a Tamilian born and brought up in Kerala, thinking and reading most freely in English, and living all my adult life in Karnataka. My fluency varies wildly across these languages but after English, Malayalam comes closest.
You've written about how the works of Marathi writers was more real and meaningful to you. Funnily enough, this very realism and relatability are what make it difficult for me to read Malayalam literature. It hits too close to the bone. It hurts in a way that English, with its slight distancing, doesn't. I can be a dispassionate observer when I read in English—I simply cannot in Malayalam. Escapism, I admit. :)
I can totally relate to this feeling of being too close to the bone, in my case it is music of any kind or genre. I am uncomfortable of its power over me and I feel I cannot enjoy it fully as it can be bit all-consuming. Which is why I only recently realized that while I do listen to music, I do not recognize myself as an "audiophile". From a writing standpoint, your comment reminded me JM Coetzee's writing. Even in his most autobiographical work do you see a distance he maintains, which is where his storytelling mastery comes from I feel. Thanks for sharing!
I've never read Coetzee. Interesting observation.
How lovely is this!
Thank you so much! :)
You have read Rohinton Mistry's works! He is one author whose every book has made a mark in my life. I have only read two until now, but I am looking forward to know more! Glad to know that you are also a Rohinton Mistry fan.
Yes, me too. I've only read Family Matters and A Fine Balance. Fine Balance changed me. It made me realize what can be achieved with Indian storytelling in English. It is the one book I recommend to anyone no matter what their tastes :)
So glad to know you are getting back to your mother tongue. With rampant and essential migration, I think this is a reality most of us cannot escape.
Appreciate how you managed to bring out this dynamic across generations in your essays. Enjoyed reading and reflecting on it :)
Have never thought of my mother tongue as an "incidental inheritance" as you put it, but it's actually so true, now that I think about it. How easy is it for us to treat language simply as a conduit - a means to an end.
I personally feel no particular attachment to my mother tongue (Telugu) having grown up in a Hindi-speaking environment in Gujarat. As someone who's passionately against Hindi imposition, I wish I could call Telugu "my own", but I've grown to accept that Hindi probably is that language for me (sed face). I often try to look at the bright side of things and tell myself that I could have a deeply personal relationship (the kind of relationship you describe having with Marathi here) with any language that I continue to remain in touch with all my life. But I then wonder if it's truly possible. If I chose to learn, say, Basque tomorrow - YES I'd probably know how to form complicated questions and negate things and understand works of literature - but I still wouldn't have the exposure that a child growing up with Basque would.
Which makes me wonder if language is essentially a really old habit that some of us grow out of. Wow you might've made me want to brush up on some Telugu lol.
I share your concerns about how closely we can accept a foreign language as our own in the same way as our mother tongue. I feel a gap, no matter how small, will continue to exist in our sense of ownership to it, no matter how much we claim otherwise (This is speaking from experience from learning a foegin language myself).
Language is first and foremost a means of communication no doubt. Given that there were hardly any kids of my age speaking Marathi around me, I didn't have the impetus to keep using it and that's where I lost touch with I feel.
Then again, it also is a vital store house of the cultural identity and values of a community. These I felt have been transmitted to me by my family even if I didn't use the language frequently myself. Making an intentional effort to connect with the language gave me a sense of being rooted and secure and I feel that's partly because I was able to resonate with those dormant values. Glad you felt the need to reconnect with your own mother tongue and wish you the best :)