A Hate-Love Story with English

My first handshake with English

I think my first encounter with English happened when my father handed over his leave letter to me to give it to the headmaster of the school my father was working in. I must be 7-year-old by then (in present times, not knowing English until that age is a crime, but at that time it was a norm among all my Kannada medium classmates). Out of curiosity, I just opened it, I found English letters that looked like spikes in an ECG report.

Jealousy: the sour unreachable grapes

In the same Dam Project Area (a big colony of quarters of employees), there were some children who would travel in a school bus to a nearby town for English medium school. Their uniform, school bag, neck-tie, shoes & socks, a separate lunch bag, their ‘go man – come man’ English – everything created a mixed feeling of fascination, curiosity and jealousy. Although we were playing together after school hours, we had some conversations like:

“How many letters are there in YOUR English?”

“26”

“haha.. only 26? Look at us; WE have hundreds of letters.”

The first chat with a foreigner: Where is idli?

There was a guest house in our place where tourists, who visit Hampi, would come and stay for a night, almost throughout the year. Their skin colour, their language, their such a simplicity & generosity in clothing – everything amazed us. Every time we saw them in our place, we would end up just waving our hands and saying ‘Hi man..’ (even for women, what a unisex addressing!).

But I and my Kannada medium friend Abu-Bakr, a Kannada medium friend decided to put on step forward. We decided to speak with a foreign couple who stayed in the guest-house. But what to speak? Then we approached Prajesh, an English medium friend, whose house was about half a kilometre from the guest house.

“Prajesh, we want to know the place they have come from. How to ask?”

“Ask ‘Where is your country?’” – poor Prajesh framed a question out of his English.

With the fear of forgetting the words, Abu-Bakr and I ran to the guest house repeating the question loudly ‘Where is your country?.. where is your country… where is your country?’

When we finally reached, I shied away and stood (hiding) near the gate sending Abu-Bakr to the foreigners. I could only see him from the distance, but couldn’t hear.

He went and saluted them as if he was a police constable reporting to his higher ups. They just gestured ‘Hi’. That’s all. He just took ran back to me. I was shocked to see no more conversation between them.

“Harsha, I forgot the words that Prajesh had told. Do you remember?”

“Why not! Go and ask them ‘Where is your country?’” – my memory was fantastic!

In no time he was there. He again saluted them and they had some conversation. They smiled and gave him a coin. I could see him made asking for one more. They gave him one more. He shook their hands and ran back.

He summarized his conversation:

“I spoke so well. English is very easy. When I asked about their place, he said idli. (Poor foreigner had autocorrected ‘Where is your country?’ as ‘Which is your country?’). I felt like laughing hearing idli but controlled. They gave me a coin of their country and asked for one more for you. Take this.”

I don’t know where my friend Abu-Bakr is! I don’t know where I lost that coin. I don’t know where that foreign couple is! They must be in their country idli, I mean Italy!

Misplaced Motion: My hatred for English

Although I was taught English in school by two of the best English teachers: my father and Mary Anthony Gracy teacher in primary school (English was introduced at Class 5 for us), my hatred toward English grew when I was admitted in the English medium in Class 8.

The first lesson in science was Motion, which I always thought was misplaced in physics instead of biology. Terms like velocity, acceleration, theorems, corollaries – made me feel that I would never be able to learn English. The inferiority complex was growing gradually. Although, I knew (and remember till today) that Rajaram Mohan Roy was born on May 22, in Radhanapur and his parents were Ramakanth Roy and Tharini Devi – I was unable to answer to a simple question ‘When was Rajaram Mohan born?’ when teacher made me stand and answer. I could gradually understand what was taught in the class, but it was so difficult to frame my sentences and speak or write. I hated English for its insane spelling rules, strange sentence structures, lunatic silent letters. To overcome that inferiority complex, that incomprehensibility, that depression – I started deviating from it and read Kannada books, without knowing that this too would contribute to English in later days.

Metamorphosis: Hatred to Love

I soon realized that my approach was not going in the right track. The only way to solve something is to pass THROUGH it, not to ESCAPE from it. When I visited my sister’s (Bharathi akka) home, I found a book on English grammar (I don’t remember the title). As I browsed through it, my notions on English started getting uncomplicated. I started reading anything and everything I get in English, although I didn’t understand all of them. I started speaking alone choosing some random topic. I started penning my random thoughts in English, just for myself. I referred to dictionary not just to find the meaning of the words. I was an insane practice of jumping from one word to another word within the dictionary.

I knew the pain of how stupid English looked at the beginning when I was comparing with Kannada, Hindi, Telugu or any Indian language. Then I started knowing the reasons why it is the way it is in English. It is easy to call English stupid, funny or meaningless. But how long can we remain in criticising, commenting and fun-making mode? I started reading more to understand why there are silent letters? why there are auxiliary verbs? How does different structure of sentence help English? I realised it’s not just about rules, it’s sometimes about common sense. More I read about English, more I started developing a soft corner for it. More I read, more I understood the reasons and logic behind the way it is. More I read, the deeper I fell in love with it!

More I understand English, I understand that there is more to understand. I am lost and I am loving the state of being lost!