Mother Tongue

Now that there are a ton of exams that I'm preparing for this year, and one of them happens to have a compulsory paper on my mother tongue. It suddenly seems daunting to take on a language I've loved since my childhood. And, not just loved, I was (am?) very good at it. How did I assess myself to be good? Because I read a lot of Marathi books, children's magazines, newspapers. These days, and ever since I started Architecture school, the only language that I've conversed, breathed, thought and read is English. It's the universal language. Everybody in India understands English these days. Speak of Globalization.

So, Marathi is where I am a bit nervous. Not that I don't speak the language anymore or I've any trouble with it, but increasingly over the years the relation and affinity have spiralled downwards. Not that I had many friends who spoke the language and the few that did, were speaking a horrible mix of English, Hindi and Marathi. Nothing gets more terrible than that. I can't be bad at Marathi if I blog in it and write book reviews otherwise. There's a slight difference here though. That's a very informal platform where I use the language. How do I get my thoughts across in the polite, bureaucrat's language even before becoming one? This is the toughest part. I shudder to think that I have come at this phase of life. I don't feel confident approaching serious topics in my mother tongue. What could be more pathetic and shameful than this? Perhaps, that's why we have so many authors vouching their concern for the degradation of marathi. And, I am sure this is not the only case in India. Many regional languages face this issue of being on the verge of extinction because the natives won't speak it. Doesn't make any sense to cry about not knowing the very language we spoke our first words in. It seems indeed outlandish that such a day would grace my life in an albeit small manner, but yes it does! And I regret that I let things get down to such levels. Just the mere thought of writing essays in marathi has me in a sweat.

I know I am being paranoid, because I could be the worst ever influence on myself. I have that supreme unique gift of taking myself down. The only plausible thing for time being seems like a lot of reading and writing. Thankfully, my handwriting hasn't suffered one bit because of my incessant diary writing. As much as I have started loving and rediscovering the joys of hindi literature, the marathi scenario also appears hopeful. Hey! I can do everything. If I can comprehend two regional languages and think while also expressing my views, it would be unfair to suggest I can't nail writing in my mother tongue. After all, it stays with us, no matter what! Don't victims of memory loss converse in their mother tongue when awake from their trance? ;) All the movies propagate this. Let's hope everything we see on celluloid isn't false!