This post is written especially for ‘Embrace the Native Blog Hop’ hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed under #EveryConversationMatters.
Everybody was running to Kuwait because it held the highest-valued currency in the world. And, still does. When you earn Kuwaiti Dinars, you can splurge back home in India. At least it was like that back then. My parents were some of those people who decided that Kuwait was the place that would help them earn a decent living.
As I’ve mentioned a hundred times before, I was born in Kuwait (a tiny country in the Middle East). I was introduced to some Arabic, but two years after I started school, Iraq invaded Kuwait, and I was taken to India (Bombay) for the first time (1990).
Coincidently, my maternal grandmother had given birth to her two younger kids in Kuwait. Then a few years later, circumstances took them back to Bombay, India. When she met my 7-year-old self, she would speak in English.
My paternal grandmother, on the other hand, only knew our native language and not a word of English. When she gave me something (mostly yummy food cooked by her) along with some instructions, we would use ‘sign language’ when no one was around to translate. Not the official sign language but random hand gestures. Besides that, in the four years I was in Bombay, no one really insisted on my learning our native language.
Both my parents would speak to us in English though they could speak their native languages very well. I would try making an attempt to speak in our native language with others. Once, I went to a shop nearby and the shopkeeper spoke to me in our native language. With full enthusiasm, I wanted to tell him ‘to keep a pencil box I wanted aside, so I could come back later and pick it up’ in our native language. What I actually told him was ‘keep me inside the shop, I’ll pick the pencil box up later’.
I was raw. Some people even got offended when I spoke to them in our native language because of the respect I did not give them. Only the people close to me knew that it wasn’t because I didn’t respect them but because I didn’t know the language.
In Bombay, I had to learn Marathi in school. I tried to learn it and flunked a couple of times. I became well-versed in P-language but not in Marathi or my native language. And then I was taken back to Kuwait as my mom got her job back. My native language and Marathi were forgotten.
In Kuwait again (1994), in grade 6, we had to learn Arabic. Though I knew (and know) how to read and write, I needed another person to fill in the answers on my exam paper. For our benefit, the teacher would conveniently go for a stroll outside the class while the exam was on. Arabic aside, I taught my friends the secret P-language.
Then, my maternal grandmother visited us in Kuwait for a year or two and properly introduced us to our native language. That’s when I began to understand a little of what she was saying.
When I began working (2001), I picked up Arabic while talking to our customers. Later, in 2010, I joined the band. We decided to sing a song in my native language. Another band member (who belongs to the same city as I do) patiently taught me how to pronounce the words and also gave me the meanings of some. A lot of practice sessions later, we performed that song pretty well for a party.
It was going well until I got married and hubby decided he wanted to shift base to Bangalore. We discussed it, with a heavy heart and unsure mind I agreed to move and followed him to Bangalore a few months later. My native language and Arabic were left behind. Hubby speaks fluently in our native language, by the way. But, not with me.
Then, Kannada was a must in Bangalore (2011). If I was working outside the house, perhaps I would’ve picked up some words here and there. But, I wasn’t, so I didn’t get a chance to learn Kannada. I would only cry when the rickshaw drivers would speak to me in Kannada and I couldn’t fathom why they didn’t take me to my destination.
I insisted on getting a house help who knew Hindi. I could barely get my messages across in Hindi but I was confident I would manage because I studied in Indian schools (English mediums) after all. Learning Hindi was mandatory (by my parents though French was an option). Back in Kuwait, I only spoke in Hindi with the office-help boys.
But, along came my help who only knew Kannada back then (2014). That was 10 years ago. In the 10 years we grew older together, we both also learned to speak better in Hindi together. Well, because we already knew a little of Hindi and she wasn’t going to spend her valuable time teaching me Kannada. Though we stammer and think of the words sometimes, we are currently able to communicate well in Hindi. We don’t judge each other for the grammar (as I do with English) or words used for different genders, ages or relationships. We just get our messages across somehow. Hats off to us!
FYI – I’m learning a little of Kannada while teaching my kids the language as learning Kannada is made mandatory by most schools in Karnataka. I have tried saying a few words in Kannada but with no real Kannada-speaking person around me, the words just come out totally wrong, or sound like bad words.
So, with a lot of khichdi of the half-learned languages in my head, I prefer sticking to English to keep my dignity intact. Now, the only person I make an effort to speak with in Konkani is my maternal grandmother who suddenly prefers speaking in our native language in her second childhood. Besides a few words, I cannot speak it even if my life depended on it. But, the effort is still on!
Did I tell you that my native language is Konkani as my paternal roots are in Goa and maternal in Mangalore? Both dialects of Konkani (Goan and Mangalorean) are different in some ways. But, I can identify them. I would sing Mollbailo Dou (Mogan Aso Boren) to my kids during bedtime. Oh! The Konkani song I had performed on stage was Bebdo! You should check out the meaning of the lyrics. They are hilarious!!
Photo by Santiago Palacios.
28 Comments
What a roller-coaster ride when it comes to learning languages especially with your roots back in goa it must have been tough hanging onto it. Better late than never I’d say.
hahaha! Total khichdi as you said. But I’m kind of envious of your diverse experiences with different languages and its cultural roots. Even having a basic knowledge of so many languages and dialects is nothing short of pride-worthy tbh.
I appreciate your blend of languages from arabic, marathi, english and many more. Your life went through many challenges and its interesting that you know basics of multiple languages.
It’s so touching to read your disconnect and your motivations for embracing it again. I would say, your article is a Journey to the Mother Tongue, finding the roots.
I hear you, Cindy. Away from home, it does get difficult to stay in touch with our native language. Plus there is a strong influence of the place of current residence. Ends up being a mish mash of sorts. I thought Punjabi was pretty simple until we moved to Punjab in high school for a couple of years and had difficulty understanding it.
It’s amazing how you’re holding on to your native language despite the challenges. It’s a reminder that even small efforts—like trying to speak with your grandmother—help keep a language alive. Loved this personal and relatable take on language learning!
Konkani has distinct dialects here in Maharashtra too spoken in Konkan region which differ from north to south. They have a greater influence of Marathi and sound much different than Goan and Mangalorean dialects.
What a roller coaster ride you had ! And the struggle is real . Hats off to the effort for managing through such diverse spectrum of language base. Wishing you the best to achieve fluency in Hindi , Kannada and Konkani as well.
Thank you, Chinmayee!
The struggle of moving from one language to another is real. It isn’t easy. I think if my son were to write something on this topic, he would write the same thing too. He has just recently started talking in Tamil, though everyone around him speaks it. He seems more comfortable in English. Enjoyed reading your post.
Thanks, Janaki!
It’s amusing yet a roller coaster ride. From language to language I am sure you would have felt it overwhelming at times, but your desire to connect to your roots is awesome
Ha ha really enjoyed reading and could also connect a bit to it -given my struggles living and working in non english speaking countries. I now know s smattering of Russian and understand bits and pieces of central Asian languages and Turkish! Had a Kyrgyz house help in Almaty for 5 years and got by through google translate, some broken english and russian words and of course hand gestures! Now in Istanbul, I have an english speaking philipino help! So life is good. 🙂
Awesome, Sakshi!
How wonderful to be able to reconnect to your native language! I remember my mother teaching us the secret P language. She was amazingly good at it. Kudos, Cindy, on all the languages you know, and may you continue to keep getting better at them!
A lot of suspense but I was right that your native language was something to do with Goa or Konkani !
I actually feel learning languages expands our horizons a lot and frequent travelling does make you more of a world citizen and you do lose the affinity for any particular place or language.
Thats a wonderful history, if you ask me. Looking back you must be proud of how far you have travelled with all these languages. It might get overwhelming. But love the way how you have handled it so far
What a Thrilling journey Cindy. So many languages….oh my god… Mera to dimag ghumta rahega. By the way I belong to konkan. But I don’t know konkani. Yes, I know Malvani language and speak but not fluently. Love your constant urges to speak in your native language. Keep it up.
You have surely been here and there and have had to learn the many languages to survive in the said places. It’s great to never forget your roots and your attempts at speaking your native language with your maternal grandmother are commendable. PS: The P-language sounds fun.
Your determination of getting back to roots is something I appreciate. The charm of talking to grandparents in mother tongue, I miss that badly.
Interesting post Cindy. Oh my my, you’ve brushed over quite a few languages… I think you can make a whole new language out of the bits and pieces of the ones you’ve learnt.🤭
I would prefer Cindy speaking in English anyday cuz I am aware of your challenges, but for a change, it would be really nice to hear you speak in one Indian language atleast.
Goodluck with Kannada.
Naanu kannada kalithaidini… guess what it means?😉
Today I learned Kannada! Hail Google! Hahahaha!
You had such a fascinating journey in terms of your encounter with different languages. I am a slow learner while my daughter is quite quick to learn.
Your journey with languages is quite an adventure!! It’s fascinating how travel inspires us to connect with new cultures through their words, even if they come out a little ‘half-baked’ at first. Wishing you a fruitful linguistic journey ahead .
Thank you, Pinki!
The autobiographical elements here are quite enlightening. How one loses touch with one’s mother language, especially.
I really relate with your journey of reconnecting with your native language. As growing up in Delhi, I had no connection with Telugu as my parents spoke English, Hindi and like how you picked up Arabic, I learnt Punjabi. Language has a way of connecting us with our roots and I believe in embracing it as it’s never too late to reclaim what’s yours!
True, Romila!