This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, each of us examined the concept of ‘LANGUAGE’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.
My head is a coop of writing-related questions and a cat is let loose in it when I sit down to write. The language question is the most notorious chicken in there. Specifically this one — should I write in Hindi or English? While speaking I am more fluent in Hindi but while writing, I turn to English for the flexibility this alien tongue provides. I rarely end up writing in Hindi, but this question keeps bothering me whenever I am stuck. ‘If only you had started out in Hindi’ rings in my head.
The great bilingual poet Arun Kolatkar had it covered —
My pencil is sharpened at both ends I use one end to write in Marathi the other in English.
I wish it were that easy for literary mortals like you and me. This question has often led me to think about the role of language in my writing. It’s like asking about the role of water in flowing. It’s a stupid question. But one should be allowed, once in a while, to ask pompous-sounding stupid questions. Language, for me (I presume for others too), is a tool that provides shape to abstractions like thoughts, ideas, emotions, muse (why not!) and so on. There are other tools as well, such as music, art, and dance. Language, like all these tools, comes with a limitation — it can only be an approximation of these abstractions. For example, one can rarely, almost never, accurately put to language or painting or music or dance what one feels.
Language is the common plane on which we try to understand these abstractions. But how flawless is this plane? Well, let’s just say that there are potholes in it, a few hillocks too, and the entire thing keeps wobbling. After all, language too is a thing in itself and is very much prone to being an abstraction merely approximated. But it is precisely these deformities (potholes and all) that transform language into being a thing in itself. Every good poem ever written is an example of this. It happens when language goes beyond denoting and starts connoting or suggesting or insinuating. Take this poem, for example, by my favourite poet Vinod Kumar Shukla —
The words still denote what they are supposed to on the common plane, but what do they connote? Is this poem really about ‘kuan’ or ‘nanha baccha’? For me, language becomes a ‘nanha baccha’ in Shukla’s poem. The thing that he cares for, even if it comes at the cost of staying silent and moving cautiously. This delicate handling of language in Shukla’s poem had prompted me to write a Hindi poem a couple of years ago. I’m hoping it’ll serve as a decent conclusion to this doddering essay on language.
विनोद कुमार शुक्ल को पढ़ना
भाषा से उलझने
या उसे सावधानी से बरतने
का ख़याल तभी आता है
जब लग रहा हो वक़्त के बर्बाद होने से
न पहाड़ टूटेगा, न आंधी आएगी
कुछ शांत-चित्त सीधे-सादे शब्दों
को पढ़ते रहने
और उनसे कुछ कहने की इच्छा के बीच
वक़्त
बीत रहा होता है
शायद बर्बाद भी हो रहा हो
पर पहाड़ टूट नहीं रहे होते
बतिया रहे होते हैं
आंधी आ नहीं रही होती
गा रही होती है Essays by other writers —
Loss of a language By Rakhi Anil, Rakhi’s Substack
Beyond Words and Dialects by Aarti Krishnakumar, Aarti’s Substack
In search of my lost mother tongue by Siddhesh Raut, Shana, Ded Shana
The language question by Rahul Singh, Mehfil
Geography & Language by Devayani Khare, Geosophy
The Dance of Languages by Haridas Jayakumar, Harry
Poetic Silence - From Anand Bhavan to 3039 and back by Amit Charles, @acnotes
No Garam Aloo in Tamil Nadu by Ayush, Ayush's Substack
Lost in translation by Vikram, Vikram’s Substack
I’ve been thinking a lot about tongues, again. by Ameya, (Always) Ameya
The Language Beneath Words by Mihir Chate, Mihir's Substack
What does this mean? by Nidhishree Venugopal, General in her Labyrinth
The Language of Murder by Gowri N Kishore | About Murder, She Wrote.
I have no words by Richa Vadini Singh, Here’s What I Think
Jal-Elephants, Thread-Navels, and Other Sanskrit Beasts by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I Floundered
Of Language, Love and Longing: Politics, Mother Tongue and Loss by Aryan Kavan Gowda, Wonderings of a Wanderer
The Bengaluru Blend by Avinash Shenoy, Off the walls
An Ode to Languages, by Lavina G, The Nexus Terrain
I think it's a rare skill to be able to write in both languages — even if the strain seems apparent to you, it isn't to the reader. Would love to hear a recording of the poem (it'll be a smoother reading than I can attempt 😅)
Loved the cat and chicken phrases you used in the starting. As you said, you do have a great flexibility with english. :)