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M K Gandhi, who studied law in the United Kingdom, led an anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa, and returned to India as a middle-aged man. Let me pose this question to the father of our nation. Why should this mighty language feel threatened by those of us who speak in other languages as well? This mighty language has been on this planet for a long time before my arrival and will survive me too. Odia enjoys the status of a classical language. When I tell myself that my mother tongue-a particular variety of Odia-is getting poorer by my use of another tongue, it is egoistic. A 15th-century poet Kabikarna from Medinipur wrote a beautiful syncretic text named Shola Pala in a language that was a mixture of Parsi, Hindi, Bengali, and Odia. What about those families where each parent has a different mother tongue and the only common language they have is English? What about those who stay in border areas like Balasore or Medinipur? Their’s is a mixture of Odia and Bengali. I am talking from the perspective of one who knows only one mother tongue. Nor is there a uniform dialect that all my family members speak. So, which language should I be faithful to? There is no single variety of Odia that is spoken all over Odisha. But guess what? She doesn’t speak her mother’s language either. Strictly speaking, I don’t speak my mother’s language. But I am also not the complete possessor of her entire linguistic and literary heritage. I know that there is a world of literature in Odia she is blithely unaware of. She sounds more “authentic” than me, her speech peppered with bits and pieces of Odia scriptures, stinging one-liners and acute satire, mostly at my expense. My schooling, and proclivity towards Odia literature, has given me a standardised Odia.
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Fortunately, she has absolutely no objection to me speaking in any language I fancy. I can’t speak about my mother tongue without talking about my mother. By speaking a somewhat standardised Odia (as opposed to Sambalpuri) in Rourkela, am I acting as a linguistically privileged person? Can my mother tongue be a threat to someone else’s mother tongue?
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While some consider Kosali to be a distinct language, others consider it to be a regional dialect of Odia. The name Sambalpuri derives its origin from the town of Sambalpur (a town in western Odisha) while the name Kosali is associated with the ancient kingdom of Kosala. It has witnessed several campaigns led by fervent linguistic warriors who claim Sambalpuri (also known as Kosali) to be a separate language from Odia. But it is not devoid of its share of language politics. Rourkela is home to people from across India, boasting of a moderate multicultural vibe. The people of Odisha, proud of their language, do not seem to mind a chief minister who does not speak fluent Odia. He occasionally speaks in Odia in public events, albeit with a thick English accent. For the last two decades, Odisha has been governed by a chief minister who is more comfortable in English than Odia.
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Odisha is named after the Odra tribe, and the current territory of Odisha was assimilated by the regions sharing a common tongue, Odia-my mother tongue. I was born and raised in Rourkela, a small and cosy industrial city in Odisha. Am I a Caliban who continues to speak English even after Prospero is gone? I am reminded of Caliban-a character in William Shakespeare’s play The Tempest-who was taught English by his colonial master Prospero. I feel passionate while teaching the works of authors prescribed in my English syllabi. I could have bypassed the guilt by convincing myself that I am professionally bound to teach English. As an English teacher in India, I have often felt as if I too have betrayed my mother tongue. It appears as if English is a redundant colonial leftover, the only villain throttling native languages one after another. In the dark recesses of my mind, there is a lurking guilt in response to such speeches which imply that service to the mother tongue can only be done by abjuring the use of English. I often find a speaker charging at English-speaking Indians as traitors to their mother tongue. Attending conferences on the preservation of indigenous languages in India always brings about ambivalent feelings in me.