Rantitis Rantia

 

I yearn to come on this platform a lot more often but I think that luxury to ‘pause and reflect’ is hard to come by in my schedule.

Recently we celebrated Kannada Rajyothsava. To be honest, I didn’t do much (does sharing reels about Kannada heritage count?). But I had a profound realisation.

Having grown up in a household where English was given predominance, over the years, my fluency, expression and creativity was best brought out through English.

When I joined medical college in Shimoga, I realized, that will not be enough. I had to pick up from where I had left Kannada behind. I think over the course of 5 years, my Kannada improved significantly and I might have even picked up some version of the ‘Hassan dialect’ during my days there during internship.

Coming to Mysore for my postgraduation, I felt at ease and but I always knew my peers spoke, read and wrote better Kannada than I ever would.

However, ironically, what made me embrace my Kannadiga roots much more was actually relocating to coastal Karnataka where in fact, Kannada was not the only language in the community but also Tulu and Konkani. As I struggled to connect with the people inspite of my Kannada and English, I realized how important the “mother tongue” is to each community. While Kannada is known and understood by most, it is quite evident that to each community, their comfort zone lies in their native language; be it Tulu or Konkani.

While I made (and continue to make) attempts to learn both languages, it has left me with a dilemma of sorts. I could never pass off my Tulu or Konkani like a native speaker. (Although my Konkani is quite acceptable these days). I struggle to string together the words in my attempt to connect with patients/ localites or people around me in general. And a lot of what I want to share goes unsaid because it’s quite literally ‘lost in translation’.

And somewhere, I keep calling myself out for sounding ‘artificial’? Yes, it is important to learn the language of the land you live in. But can I really integrate into the culture of a place I have never grown up in? I could develop a working proficiency in the language for the sake of ease of day to day communication.

But language is more than just that right? It’s about expression of emotions, creativity and your individual identity too. And I don’t think I could do that in a new language.

Maybe I’m not one to read or appreciate Kannada literature or write poetry on the glory of Kannada language. But it’s my comfort language, the language I grew up hearing from my mother, the phrases and jokes I can relate to thanks to where I grew up and the ecosystem around me. And I don’t think I should ever let go of that. :)