Language is a home. Whether some people call it a cottage or a house. For the residents, it is a refuge in which our emotions and thoughts find expression. If some things are not there then we bring them from other languages and do not return them, but add them to our house. This sequence is old. Many times it also happens that due to the desire to change our identity, we leave our language and adopt new methods. I remember one character – Fatima Lokhandwala. There is a novel by Gujarati writer Ila Mehta, in which Fatima, who grew up in the countryside, wants to break away from her limited life and become something. She is the only student of the village and the first school after independence. After learning new things, she comes home and tells her mother. Khadija says in the village dialect of Saurashtra, ‘Hachu? The teacher says like this? Fatima corrects his Gujarati and says, ‘Baa, hachu nahi sachu.’ While translating such dialogues, I felt it necessary to make the language differences visible in English as well, so that the readers of my English translation keep in mind that change sometimes starts with the language. My article today is on another aspect of language politics, but perhaps my example will be helpful in that. People in our own country, especially those who read and write in English, sometimes call other Indian languages ’vernacular’. I have a war with them. We learned this word from the British and they learned it from Latin. The British were interested in Sanskrit because they felt that Sanskrit held the key to understanding the systems of India. Without commenting on this, I would like to talk about his attitude towards other languages. It was the specialty of the British for many centuries to consider what we consider regional languages as wild and vulgar dialects. To some extent, we also adopted this habit from him. When it was necessary to understand those languages, the British named them ‘vernacular’ and made efforts to teach them in schools, make dictionaries etc. But these languages were never considered a medium for intellectual thoughts. Today important ideas on literature come from these languages. Then this colonial partition is completely unfair. From what point of view, or from whose point of view, is Marathi or Hindi or Gujarati ‘vernacular’? I remember if a new student came to school with Hindi or Gujarati medium, the rest of the people would say – ‘She is Varnak.’ As if he were a new creature. ‘Vernacularism’ still means turning towards the languages of home, locality and market. But making ‘Varnak’ an adjective and condemning so many different languages with one word indicates the part of slavery that is prevalent in our thoughts and mentality. Every language is a language. He has his own dignity. And for the speakers of that language, she is like a living person who has nurtured them. I don’t even like the word ‘dialect’. Yes, I believe our style has many levels. The level of sophistication is determined by our region, caste, region and as a translator, I try to maintain them. But I do not disparage them by comparing them with mainstream languages, nor do I gaslight them by giving them the status of dialect. What we call ‘language’ becomes language due to many reasons. Urban, upper caste people have also had a role in them. Namboodiri people left their mark on Malayalam and Nagars left their mark on Gujarati. Dalit literature has given a special challenge to the questions of language. Not only the difference in language, but also the customs and usages of the society related to land and business, communication, everything forces us to think that the first reflection of what we call hegemony or supremacy falls on the language. Recently I had an interesting experience while translating another story. There is a story by a writer named Dashrath Parmar, in which when the new manager of the bank gave orders in English, it did not reveal where his Gujarati was from, that is, which region and caste he belonged to. His name is P.K. Can’t understand even Gujarati. But in the end the secret is revealed by language itself. There is a very deep link between our existence and our language. Therefore, we also have to use the words describing language responsibly. I remember in my childhood, many children used to say at the beginning of their essay – ‘Language is a tool of communication’. Perhaps due to this thinking, we keep doing injustice regarding language. Whereas language is a house – whether it is considered a hut or a house. (These are the author’s own views)
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Rita Kothari’s column: Every language has its own dignity, never degrade it
