Monday, February 23, 2009

Memories of mountains, lost tongues, and encroaching birds

  • The place where I go the other day to withdraw money from an ATM has a new shining office of a travel company. You know the ones that sell holiday packages and arrange for your travel and stay at exotic locations. I am briskly walking past it when, through the glass walls, I see names of popular holiday destinations emblazoned all over the walls of the brightly lit office. And there, among other names, I see Naukuchiyatal. Not a very popular name perhaps (at least, not as popular as Nainital), but it rings a bell in my head. My steps stop briefly there as the splendour of the Kumaon hills come out from the recess of memory – tall trees, winding roads, deep gorges, shady groves, crisp air, and the distant towering cliffs of the Himalayas. Later in the evening, when I am struggling to cross the busy road on my way home, I think of the languid afternoon walk from that trip in the hills, and my lips curl in an imperceptible smile.
  • A recent article I read says that about 2500 languages of the world are presently endangered, out of which 199 languages have fewer than 10 speakers left. This data comes specifically from the UNESCO report UNESCO Interactive Atlas of the World's Languages in Danger. Piqued, I did a search there for the language ‘Koch,’ which is my mother tongue (if I strictly go by the definition, i.e., the language I inherited from my parents, even if I cannot speak it properly myself) and I found it to be listed as a definitely endangered language, with only about 31000 speakers at present. It seems, with globalization, as we move towards a more homogeneous world, there are many aspects of our lives that are being quietly wiped away. I don’t know whether to feel sad about the dwindling numbers or accept it as an inevitable sign of changing times. Yes, I agree that we should protect languages like we try to protect endangered flora and fauna, but eventually isn’t it time that determines what should survive and what should perish.
  • There is a family (I guess?) of crazy doves that lives on the cornices of the building where I live. They are forever looking for a chance to get into my house and drive me nuts. Whenever I leave the kitchen window open, they come in and create a big mess throwing things around. Previously, they had broken a bottle of soya sauce, and a few days back they broke the handle of a cup, besides many other smaller mischiefs at regular intervals. Enraged, I have tried a few times to trap them and teach them a lesson, but they are always quicker than me. And once they have flown out at a safe distance, they sit quietly and peck each other playfully as if nothing has happened, all the while giving me a nonchalant look. Occasionally, they also make a big ruckus and wake me up from my nap. Whoever thought of doves being a symbol of peace obviously was never troubled by a family of unruly doves. But, well, I guess one has to learn to live with neighbours, however obnoxious they seem. Well, while we are talking of birds, you may want to have a look at the clever crows as well.

6 comments:

Trinath Gaduparthi said...

Liked the part about Doves. To be irritatingly poetic here, I tend to think these encroaching birds are like memories trying to disturb your loneliness.

Trinath Gaduparthi said...

Read loneliness above as Solitude.

pranabk said...

Musings... : Your poetic view is much appreciated. Whatever be the reason behind the bird family's nuisance, I was much distressed recently, specially when they broke the cup. If this continues, soon I'll have to drink from disposable plastic cups.

Anonymous said...

Hi Pranabk,

I will be at my usual table in the Brasserie AlizĂ© this evening from 6pm (UK time), chatting to Tony once again, who used to live in Hampshire, and, like yourself, an enthusiast of Kieslowski’s films. Please drop in whenever you wish, join in the chat and introduce any topic you wish or just listen. See you along.

Ritwik Banerjee said...

I was happy to see that the loss of languages has made you think a bit. You are, of course, absolutely correct in saying that it is time that decides whether a language shall survive or not. But I can't help notice that it is the same with our mother as with our mother tongue. Time decides when the mother who gave birth to me dies. But I still try to make her live a happy life as long as I can. If she is ill, or falls on the floor, I run to her, take her to a doctor. Will you try doing that for Koch? Or will you simply sit back and say "it is time, not I who destroyed my mother tongue and its stories and songs" ??

And I really hope your answer is what I want it to be. Because 31,000 is not a big number.

pranabk said...

Ritwik, thanks for the comment! It indeed made me pause and think a while. I must admit I haven't consciously done anything to prevent my language from fading away. And I fully take the blame of being a lost member of my tribe. Yes, it did give an occasional pang to not know my language well enough, but it was never strong enough to make me actually do something about it. I am definitely concerned about it, but I don't necessarily know what I can do about it. Part of the problem, you could say, was with my upbringing -- I grew up in a place away from the villages where Koch language is spoken. So, in a way, I was an outsider from the beginning. And, you must understand, migration has a definitive effect on languages. I, for example, was speaking 3-4 different languages when I was growing up, learning stories and songs associated with these languages, and it didn't occur to me back then that I needed to have to care for a mother tongue. I was gradually assimilating other languages as one assimilates one's mother tongue. And till date I'm more at ease with these languages than my mother tongue. They are, in a way, my adopted mother tongue. I assume the same thing is happening everywhere with increasing number of people; more so with the increased trend of migration all over the world and the growing sense of rootlessness.

Yet, I get saddened that there are languages fading away into obscurity. We lose so many peripheral things when we lose a language. However, what also concerns me is the virulent zeal of new-found identity of some of these languages. If you are aware of the political turbulence in the north-eastern part of India, you'll see that there is a growing trend of ethnic groups (and there are hundreds of them) becoming so obsessed with asserting and preserving their own culture and language that they are becoming intolerant to the point of becoming xenophobic.

Well, probably, I am digressing from what I set about to say. Thing is, I don't know what I can do in my capacity to save a language. The best I can do is to speak a few words of it myself. I will try that.