What is it about one's mother tongue, it always gets your goat in the end! I have always known my mother tongue to be a strange dialect; a heady mix of Marathi (remotely 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 name of this dialect; I have tried very hard, you know, by Googling extensively, but to no avail! While, some of my people maintain that it is, indeed, 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 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 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 forgotten speaking Desastha Marathi these days; I refer to myself as a Kannadiga to the public at large. 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 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 Desastha Marathi, which 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 baton to my next generation of descendants. 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 society 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 my 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 baton to my 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 forgotten speaking Desastha Marathi these days; I refer to myself as a Kannadiga to the public at large. 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 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 Desastha Marathi, which 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 baton to my next generation of descendants. 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 society 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 my 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 baton to my 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!
Besh ashe!
ReplyDeleteThank you manoon boltho. Mala maja bhashanth Thank you manala yethni!
ReplyDeleteWe used to speak the Desastha Marathi in our childhood in 40s and 50s. Desastha Marathi was being spoken in Andhra also especially in Hyderabad,Vijayawada Vizianagaram sreekakulam areas by Madhva Brahmans.long ago once while my parents were travelling in train were speaking in desastha marathi. A co passenger asked what language are you speaking. When he was told that they were speaking marathi he laughed and said his mother tongue is marathi and he is not able to understand even abit what they were speaking.
ReplyDeleteNice to know that you too spoke Desastha Marathi in childhood. I think there were at least 5 to 6 lakhs people speaking Desastha Marathi during the 50s and 60s. Now, the number has dwindled. With marriages taking place outside the Desastha community, the number of people speaking has come down. There could hardly be around 2 lacs to 3 lacs people speaking now.
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