Language. Something that I have always taken for
granted. Maybe, because I have always had complete command over the ones spoken
around me. Having lived all my life in one place, I took language as a part of
me – it was there but invisible, maybe in the background, silent and quiet.
It is only when you are put up at a place where you
don’t know the language at all that you realize how big a role it can play. It
is then that ‘language’ becomes the ‘visible’ part of your existence, gaining
all the importance it deserves, mostly mocking you for taking it for granted
all these years, at times being kind throwing a few familiar words in your
direction, maybe having the same origin in the languages you have been
speaking. It makes you feel primitive because you go back to using gestures
with people. It makes you feel alien reminding you that you still don’t belong
there. It looks at you in the eye, challenging you in a duel and it knows that
it is going to win. It commands you to surrender to it, to accept its
superiority.
It can be irritating initially when you are amidst
people speaking a language that you can’t make any sense out of. It is nothing more
than a sound to you. Like a constant buzzing around you. They would suddenly
start laughing only to make you realize that somebody cracked a joke. You try
to fathom what they are saying on the basis of their facial expressions. Oh, he
is being shouted upon. Maybe he is trying to explain something difficult. Did he
say something so foolish that the other person’s expressions changed so much?
Are they commenting on you knowing very well that you don’t know a bit of what
is being spoken? Questions. All sorts. With only wild guesses as answers.
That’s when you start observing the language.
Keenly. Minutely. It takes time. It takes effort. But it’s worth it. It throws
surprises in front of you everyday. You can accept it, be frustrated by it,
revel in its beauty or have fun handling it. Maybe, it’s like understanding a
child. It can be like a stubborn one, not letting you know what it wants and
yet crying incessantly around you. And sometimes, when in a good mood, it might
let you peep into itself, it might let you feel familiar in its territory.
Every language has uniqueness to it, a particular
manner in which it is spoken, the way words are pressed or emphasized, the way the
tongues are rolled, the way the tone is pitched. Language – if you know it well
– is like something that could be lying around you like the non-existent but
useful furniture item, its presence felt and unfelt at the same time. Or Language
when you don’t know it – is like that one useful thing that you need miserably but
can’t remember where you put it last time.
Kakinada. A
small town in coastal Andhra Pradesh. That is where I have been putting up
since last one month. That is where I had my first stint with an alien language;
with Telegu.
