What is it about one's mother tongue, it seems to have a larger influence as we get on in years. When we were in our School years, we were discouraged from speaking the local language. You see, our School was a sort of Christian run English medium School and this School had strict policy of not allowing the students to speak in local language within the School premises. Of course, boys being boys, would surreptitiously, speak the local language amongst their close peer group. If they were caught in the act, the student used to be marched off to the Principal's office. Some sort of punishment was meted out to the erring student. Speaking English was considered to be, loosely, an upper class fashion or more precisely, it was largely the remnant of colonial hangover. The English speaking class considered themselves to be the ruling class or the English sahib (or Brown Sahib). Ordinary people aspired to admit their children to English Medium Schools. Local languages were largely looked down upon, during those confused times soon after Independence. Times are A-changing now, but still the language prejudice persists in large parts of our country.
Coming to the point, I have always known my mother tongue to be a strange dialect; a heady mix of Marathi (loosely resembling the regional dialect spoken in large parts of Maharashtra) and other South Indian dialects mostly Tamil, Kannada and to a lesser extent Devanagari. The spoken dialect, accent-wise, almost resembles the local dialect, either Tamil or Kannada, whichever, you would prefer it to be. Any Maharashtrian who would listen to this dialect, would not understand a word of what is spoken. Likewise, if a Tamilian or Kannadiga were to listen to this strange dialect, they would not be able to understand a single word of it. To this day, I don't know what is the dialect called . We claim it to be the original Marathi. Not the Maharastrian kind which we believe, has been corrupted and mixed with different languages, especially Hindi. While, some of my people maintain that it is, indeed, pure Marathi on an overall basis (of the purer kind, if you will!); some would like to call it Desastha Marathi or Kumbakonam Marathi or Thanjavur Marathi. While we were younger, we had a perennial fear that people at large, would confuse our mother tongue with 'Koli Marathi'; also a dialect spoken by a small community of people (tailors mostly) who are basically non-vegetarian in their dietary habits. Hence, we were refrained from speaking our mother tongue, when moving amongst the general public (for example, while walking through the Markets, or while travelling in public transport like trains, Buses, etc.). Though, honestly, I have to admit that both the dialects sounded almost similar in most parts! I still don't know, what is the harm if people confuse one dialect for another. How does it matter to stray listeners whether you are a vegetarian (speaking Desastha Marathi) or a non-vegetarian (speaking Koli Marathi)?
I have to admit, I have largely forgotten speaking Desastha Marathi myself, these days; I refer to myself as a Kannadiga to anyone who wants to know my mother tongue. However, whenever I happen to speak to a certain relative, who has historically spoken to me only in Desastha Marathi, I instinctively start speaking the dialect fluently; almost like a fish taking to water. That is the beauty of it, we never forget our mother tongue, though we hardly speak the dialect on a regular basis.
When in School, I remember some of my school mates needling and bullying me with expressions, such as, "Kaai katlas re" or "Kaai kasala, benne masala". It sounds amusing to recollect those expressions, now; but, as a young boy, I used to be horrified when such expressions were casually directed at me and my mother tongue was made fun of. When I discussed such matters with family elders, we were advised not to speak our mother tongue outside of our homes; it was generally understood, that such fun-expressions on different dialects were par for the course. The times were such.
All of this is nice, in good humour. However, there appears to be a more serious issue at hand. It now appears to me that the strange dialect which I call for brevity's sake, Desastha Marathi, that is my mother tongue, is simply vanishing from the scene. The dialect which was spoken in my family for generations (I can count, at least, five generations straightaway), has almost vanished, largely no thanks to me; I have to take some of the blame; for I have not taken any steps in the direction of speaking the dialect and passing on the language to my next generation of descendants. My daughter laughs at me when I speak the language. Sad, but true. I have to own up to my responsibility, though I would like to partially pass on the blame to larger issues such as, national integration and / or globalization; which has accounted for many of the local dialects and or/languages disappearing from the scene. Take Kannada for instance, many of its adherents are of the opinion that the language would soon disappear if no steps are taken now for its propagation and continuous use in the city/state that we live in. English has become the common link language; what with people inter-marrying, cutting across castes and religious lines. In a way, all of this is good for the society, but then, there is also a negative side; that has an effect on the languages/dialects that gets marginalized in the process. I am going off the tangent, as usual. Pardon me. Coming back to the issue of my mother tongue, there is a real crisis on hands now. My mother tongue has been marginalized, largely due to its non-usage; not developing any pride in speaking the dialect and not passing on the language intact to our next generation.
However, I still have high hopes that, someone (brave and wonderful), somewhere would have taken steps to speak and promote the beautiful Desastha Marathi dialect (my mother tongue, which is lavishing in the ICU now) for the sake of posterity. I would be hugely indebted and grateful to such wonderful people out there!
I have to admit, I have largely forgotten speaking Desastha Marathi myself, these days; I refer to myself as a Kannadiga to anyone who wants to know my mother tongue. However, whenever I happen to speak to a certain relative, who has historically spoken to me only in Desastha Marathi, I instinctively start speaking the dialect fluently; almost like a fish taking to water. That is the beauty of it, we never forget our mother tongue, though we hardly speak the dialect on a regular basis.
When in School, I remember some of my school mates needling and bullying me with expressions, such as, "Kaai katlas re" or "Kaai kasala, benne masala". It sounds amusing to recollect those expressions, now; but, as a young boy, I used to be horrified when such expressions were casually directed at me and my mother tongue was made fun of. When I discussed such matters with family elders, we were advised not to speak our mother tongue outside of our homes; it was generally understood, that such fun-expressions on different dialects were par for the course. The times were such.
All of this is nice, in good humour. However, there appears to be a more serious issue at hand. It now appears to me that the strange dialect which I call for brevity's sake, Desastha Marathi, that is my mother tongue, is simply vanishing from the scene. The dialect which was spoken in my family for generations (I can count, at least, five generations straightaway), has almost vanished, largely no thanks to me; I have to take some of the blame; for I have not taken any steps in the direction of speaking the dialect and passing on the language to my next generation of descendants. My daughter laughs at me when I speak the language. Sad, but true. I have to own up to my responsibility, though I would like to partially pass on the blame to larger issues such as, national integration and / or globalization; which has accounted for many of the local dialects and or/languages disappearing from the scene. Take Kannada for instance, many of its adherents are of the opinion that the language would soon disappear if no steps are taken now for its propagation and continuous use in the city/state that we live in. English has become the common link language; what with people inter-marrying, cutting across castes and religious lines. In a way, all of this is good for the society, but then, there is also a negative side; that has an effect on the languages/dialects that gets marginalized in the process. I am going off the tangent, as usual. Pardon me. Coming back to the issue of my mother tongue, there is a real crisis on hands now. My mother tongue has been marginalized, largely due to its non-usage; not developing any pride in speaking the dialect and not passing on the language intact to our next generation.
However, I still have high hopes that, someone (brave and wonderful), somewhere would have taken steps to speak and promote the beautiful Desastha Marathi dialect (my mother tongue, which is lavishing in the ICU now) for the sake of posterity. I would be hugely indebted and grateful to such wonderful people out there!
