Bilingual Blues

“…and then she said, are you sure you’re coming? And I said, yes, my mom said I could, but then Selena said, aren’t you going on vacation? So Mama, are we? You said…”

and on and on…you know how a six year old can talk.

I wait for about ten minutes to get a word in edgewise, and then finally interrupt with “Why don’t you tell me that in Telugu?”

The flood of words slows to a halt. A pause, and then, “I’m done.”

I cajole her to say one or two sentences, and she reluctantly offers a few comments. My son demands music and the traffic claims my attention, so I give up and slide the CD into its slot.

When did we get from comfortably bilingual to this… ‘one and half-lingual’? When our daughter was little, we were quite careful about talking to her in Telugu. As she got older, we made it a combination of English and Telugu (to tell you the truth, it made it easier on me. When was the last time you had to think of the exact translation for …..? You know what I mean.) As our conversations got more complicated, we switched to English for the difficult ones and used Telugu for the basics. Since she started school, her English vocabulary has blossomed, while her Telugu vocabulary has all but withered and dried up. As we struggle to help her regain her speaking skills (she can understand it perfectly), the topic comes up occasionally when we’re among friends. And the opinions are as varied as the languages we speak among us.

And here lies the fundamental problem with being Indian and bilingual. Those of us who grew up in India usually speak at least two languages, three if your ‘mother tongue’ is not Hindi. There are those who speak four languages, from having grown up in a state other than their native one and then there are the incredible ones who speak more than four. A friend of mine speaks all four south Indian languages in addition to Hindi and English. But despite this abundance of linguistic ability, guess what we speak when we’re all together? English, of course!

Unlike so many other immigrant populations, we are unable to gather around the concept of a single language. What is it that brings the Hispanic population together – despite their many different countries of origin? The Spanish language. Even native Cantonese speakers send their children to Mandarin immersion schools as they recognize the importance of a single language of identity. For us, this common language is English. It is the language in which urban-educated Indians think and speak, read and write. Is it any wonder then, that our children – living as they do outside India’s glorious linguistic chaos – choose English over any other language?

So what is a parent who wants her child to learn at least one Indian Language to do? Do you do as we do at my house, nag our kid(s) until they are forced to respond? (I have to say we have achieved a degree of success with this technique.) Are there any other techniques out there that cast me less in the role of a nagging bore and more in the role of you know…a gentle, nurturing mother? (Yes, you heard right. I did say ‘gentle, nurturing mother’. You think that’s ridiculous? One can always hope.)

Or do you just give up?

Embrace the Cliché!

First things first: the name. Those who know me will wonder about my choice of name for this blog. I am known to avoid the cliché, going so far as to make up a complicated cross-referenced metaphor in order to stay away from one simple, well-known one. So as I was looking for a name for my blog, I considered my options. I needed something short and catchy. Also something that would convey its focus on the day-to-day issues of being a global Indian mom.

First, I considered the super obvious. Have you ever noticed that so many books and movies have either the word monsoon or masala in them? Movies with masala in their title, that have nothing remotely to do with cooking, and books that are ‘Monsoon-something or other’ that have very little to do with the weather are not at all hard to find. The word Masala has more than one meaning. Wikipedia offers the basic : “a mixture of many spices in Indian cooking;” adds “a style of Indian movie” to that, and ends by noting that ‘Masala’ is also the name not only of a South Asian queer organization but, believe it or not, also that of a village in Southern Finland! Take Monsoon next. The word refers to seasonal winds blowing over the Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea and the heavy rains that come with it. Words have many meanings and Monsoon and Masala are in there with the best of them.

And why are they so popular? Masala and Monsoon are handy catch-all words conveying everything from a combination, a mixture or a mood, ranging from excitement to melancholy. Even better, they instantly communicate Indian-ness. So, while I personally eschew the use of both those words, I totally sympathize with those authors and filmmakers who were prevailed upon by their publicists to incorporate these over-used words into their respective titles.

So back to my own choices. Having almost instantly rejected the two M words, I searched for something more esoteric that would serve my purpose – and came up empty. Oh, there were a few options that seemed to deserve consideration, but in the end, it came down to the basics – convey the essence of the blog as well as its focus on Indian-ness in as catchy a way as possible. And so, as my own publicist, I had to tell the auteur in me to embrace the cliché and choose what works. I chose Chutney as a compromise – I happen to love all chutneys; like masala it means a tasty mixture of ingredients, and the final qualification: it conveys Indian flavor.

And so ladies (and gentlemen, if you’re out there) I present to you Chutney Moms!