Most of my friends know at least three languages, so I feel a sense of inferiority as I know only two.
I never had the advantage of a mother tongue simply because my mother spoke a tongue quite foreign to my father. So, unless they resorted to sign language to communicate, they would have to settle on English as the lingua franca (see, I do know some words in Latin!). And that’s exactly what they did.
Living in northern India for the better part of our childhood, it was inevitable that we would learn Hindi. So, that was the second language that we mastered. However, the word ‘mastered’ wasn’t quite applicable to my mum, who came from a northeastern state and spoke Khasi. Most of my friends had no inkling that there was such a language. But, to her credit, God bless her soul, she was undaunted by the thought of what fluent speakers of Hindi would think of her pronunciation and quaint use of words. She spoke the language without any inhibitions. That, I think, is where most of us fail.
When confronted with a new language, we are hesitant to speak, always aware of mispronouncing words or making grammatical errors. But this is exactly what prevents us from learning the language. I have often found that when I attempt to speak a few words in a foreign tongue, the native speakers usually are appreciative of my effort and a bond is built straight away.
But sustaining those efforts is a different matter altogether. If you are the odd man out in a group, you find yourself left out of the conversation pretty soon as the others find speaking slowly rather tedious or the person who assumes the role of translator quickly tires of his job. So, you fix a smile on your face (do you know how hard that is especially when you haven’t a clue about what is being discussed?) and feign interest in gibberish.
I remember a huge mountain dog my sister owned in Spain. Lara was a gregarious being and, whenever guests came over, she would seat herself on the sofa. I kid you not. She rested her rear end on the seat with her front paws on the floor and listened to what everyone was saying. Her head would move from side to side as she followed the thread of conversation. Her movements were so amusing that soon the talking stopped as heads turned to watch her instead. I wish I had her thespian skills, pretending to understand every word of what was being spoken and going through the motions of paying attention to every speaker.
Knowing the language spoken in a particular country or state (in the case of India) is invaluable. When I arrive in Hyderabad and the person at the counter reads my name, he or she assumes I know Telugu. As soon as they speak in the language, I shake my head to forestall their enthusiasm. I apologetically admit that I don’t speak Telugu and a look of disbelief is directed at me. Perhaps they think I am being uppity, but it is the simple truth. However, I can get by with my knowledge of the two languages as it is the state capital, just as I can cope here in the UAE.
It’s not that I am against learning a new language, but some of us are not equipped to master tongues. And then there are some who take to a new language like a duck to water. I have an Indian friend who had gone to Greece for a conference and presented her paper in Greek. Now, how impressive is that? What I do know, however, is that learning a language is not merely learning new words, but encompasses a completely different way of thinking too.
