Hermit in Red Lipstick

Like most other children of my age, I too was sent to an English medium school. My family explained that it was necessary because most of the standard books, terms and texts were in English; and it would be difficult to make a transition from the analogous terms in Hindi to English at an inevitable, later stage. They also felt (like every other parent) that English being the language of the world (owing to the extensive colonisation by the British), that it would be more useful in an increasingly globalised space.

At school we were encouraged to speak in English(Of course!). In fact, in the last two schools that I studied in my city, we even had a penalty on speaking in Hindi barring the Sanskrit and Hindi periods. The penalty could be anything from a monetary fine, something like 1 Re for a sentence to a black mark in the English speaking chart. So far no issues; after all, in the North-Indian land where I dwelled, everyone was well versed in Hindi, at least, in its usage in all practical sense and the fact was that it was English that did not come naturally to us and therefore, needed more focus. That I used to be the ‘English in-charge’ whom every student in the class used to hate is a totally different thing. But the funniest thing that I observed was the contrasting behavior of most of my classmates in and outside the class. So, there used to be some repeated offenders who would constantly get back to their Hindi whenever the incharge(me) was not around. Whether it was an affinity towards breaking the rules or a genuine dislike towards the English language was something I really could never figure out (though I would like to think that it was the former). But the funny part is the drastic transformation these classmates would exhibit outside the class, and more specifically in the company of strangers and even more specifically if they were asked to speak in Hindi. Then they actually behaved as if they didn’t know the language. Most of them would treat the pure (‘shuddh’) hindi with scoff, as if it was something below their standard, something to be looked down upon.

Perhaps, it seemed too old-fashioned a language to them. But the sad part is, like once a teacher from a different, Hindi- medium school observed; their English was equally flawed. And sadly, they made a category where they could speak neither proper English, nor Hindi when required to. I could never really understand how speaking in Hindi could make me any less sophisticated than I actually was, and that there was a time and place for every language, but then of course it was ultimately none of my business outside the class to decide how anyone else should converse so I left it at that.

After a couple of years I noticed something that I found even more bizarre. I saw people write lyrics of Hindi songs in the Roman script!

Now, why would one want to do that? You consume more time, alphabets and space as you expand a Hindi word to its English counterpart. For non-Hindi speakers, like some of my foreigner friends who used to have a songbook of Hindi and Sanskrit bhajans written in the English alphabets, it was a totally efficient system to be able to sing the same songs with better pronunciation and ease; but to think of my acquaintances who were well-versed with the Devnagri script, to waste that much time in scripting Hindi words in English, seemed totally an unnecessary activity to me. Thankfully, at college we always had that one group in every batch who would devotedly stick to the ‘shuddh’ Hindi. So just like those English Jam ( Just a minute) competitions, we had a counterpart Hindi Jam session called ‘Kshanika’, where the participants would be required to just speak in their mother tongue (on anything under the earth; from their one-sided infatuations, Electronic circuits, global politics or their pet; absolutely anything they wanted to spontaneously speak on), without making any errors pertaining to grammar or pronunciation and without any stuttering and stammering, any unnecessary pauses and abstaining from the use of any foreign words and phrases. And believe me, it was no mean job. And I can also tell you that our Hinglish junta at college enjoyed this more than its English counterpart. (Of course, don’t expect us to write Hindi stuff in Hindi; after all, we are descedents of the modern, logical west 🙂 )

Coning to the present predicament, every now and then you have people who question the importance accorded to Hindi at the national level. They argue that there are multitudinous other languages in the country and that Hindi cannot be held any more national than Tamil, Telugu, Malyalam, Bengali etc., etc. and that favoring Hindi would indicate a bias towards the populous North. One can still agree with that. But does none of them feel that there ought to be one language that can bind the nation together, one language that is Indian; it is tougher for rest of the country to learn and speak, let’s say a language like Tamil, Telugu, Malyalam or Bengali. Hindi, for sure is a more viable option; thanks to a number of factors including the outreach of Bollywood. But sometimes we are just too proud, political or ashamed of opening to this easy and expressive language. The instances that I observed throughout my childhood till now are unrelated with respect to owning up to Hindi, but what they make me believe is that either we feel we would be termed unsophisticated, unread if we speak in Hindi over English or that we are just too chauvenistic when it comes to our non-Hindi mother tongue. Of course, you should not speak in Hindi in a meeting with your international clients and you cannot start writing your technical stuff in Hindi. But other than those occasions, even if you prefer to speak in English, or for that matter any other language at home, there is no reason why you should be ashamed of Hindi either, why you should shut your eyes to the literary works in the language and why should you unconsciously prepare for extinction a language that is closer to your culture, art, history and sensibilities than an international language. Sadly, for me it is more difficult to understand the flowery Hindi encountered in literary works, even though I had Hindi from pre-nursery till class 8, and Sanskrit from classes 7th to 10th. And even sadder is the fact there are not many people who can actually help me with that; although I can get the same help when it comes to English, more easily. We need to and want to progress. We cannot do without knowing English. As professionals and global citizens we will not leave any opportunity simply for the reason that English is not our mother tongue. But that should not be a reason why we must pack away Hindi to the land of the dead.
Embracing Hindi at a national level does not mean disrespecting other Indian languages; every language of this country should be preserved and their literature encouraged. Why not begin with the most widely spoken language?
In these times we surely need more factors that integrate us together and Hindi could be surely one.
(In case you think it is just another Hindi-chauvenist preaching her point, let me tell you my mother tongue is Bengali 🙂 )

जिस देश को अपनी भाषा और अपने साहित्य के गौरव का अनुभव नहीं है, वह उन्नत नहीं हो सकता। – देशरत्न डॉ. राजेन्द्रप्रसाद