How to bridge language gaps: A for assimilate

Gadfly

Recently, Bengaluru bristled over non-Kannada speakers’ attitude towards Kannada. There was ire over an incident in the city, when a Hindi-speaking woman auto rickshaw rider and a Kannada-speaking male autorickshaw driver got into an argument that turned into a slanging match over language. A year ago, a video of a Bengaluru auto rickshaw driver asking a female rider to speak in Kannada (he did this in English) had spread far and wide. Over time, as the issue has ebbed or reared, notable personalities in Bengaluru have urged long-term migrant residents from north India to acclimatise to major constituent parts of Karnataka and Bengaluru’s ethos. On the other hand, some like Capt G R Gopinath have urged Kannadigas to refrain from blind pride over their language. Some north Indian residents and influencers on social media proclaimed that if northerners were treated so badly, they may leave Bengaluru en masse, and that may shutter India’s Silicon Valley, full and proper. Reacting creatively to this, and to attract non-Kannadigas to Kannada, some of the Bengaluru auto-rickshaws now carry digital means to aid riders to communicate in basic Kannada.

It’s a thorny wedge issue and the point is valid from both ends. Kannadigas, Maharashtrians in Maharashtra, and Tamilians in Tamil Nadu, rile over people from other states not even attempting to vibe in with the existing heartbeats of their cultures. Having lived in major parts of urban India for long, in particular Mumbai, Delhi and Bengaluru, your writer (of Tamil stock) has a few observations which might not go down well with people of either inclinations. Nativist-leaning Kannadigas, Maharashtrians or Tamilians often question the use of Hindi in their state with a counter: When southerners, westerners or easterners shift to the north, do they not learn or adapt to Hindi? Unless one is in a rarefied elite sphere, it’s safe to presume that eking a living out in the Hindi heartland without knowing Hindi is well-nigh impossible. Shouldn’t the same principle then be extended to all other language identities?

Although this lingual-cultural tussle has been around for long, a scrutiny of the migrant communities generally elicits a staggering history of absorption and assimilation. For instance, the trading castes and communities of Rajasthan, Gujarat, and Sindh have settled across India and the world over centuries. In my own small observation of having worked or dealt with them across many places in India and tiers of work, the communities’ taking to distant cultures and languages and becoming passably fluent with them is astounding. The capitalist Marwaris even excelled at trading with the Communist governments of West Bengal. They prospered in the cotton and manufacturing belts of Dravidian Tamil Nadu and Maratha Maharashtra. Invariably, they spoke the local language and, over time, familiarised themselves to the reigning culture of the place, all the while retaining their customs, language, and identity.

Today’s Bengaluru has a swathe of house-helps, cooks, carpenters, and plumbers who are migrant Odias, Bengalis, Assamese, Biharis, and Tamils who may not be able to survive if they didn’t speak basic, broken Kannada. Over time, their facility improves since there’s little choice and abundant everyday practice and interaction. Colonialism and imperialism may have been virtually impossible if the colonisers were unfamiliar with native cultures, languages and customs. Almost 150 years of proximity to India’s composite complexities, in a way, facilitated Britain’s colonial annexation of India.

So there’s no reason why endeavours by people from other states to learn a new language cannot happen. And yes, this is no imposition, but a gesture. Only connect. As a beginner, even broken Kannada can help break the cultural ice. Chuck Kannada gothilla for Kannada swalpa gothu.