Tag Archives: language

My thoughts need an anchorage and that could be Braille

It is the International Mother Language Day today and here I am talking about ‘Braille’.  Let me make it clear at the very inception that no, it is not a language. One might then wonder why talk about it here on this day?

Braille is a writing system developed specifically for blind people and its significance to this day is such that for us, the blind people, if we do not understand, endorse, and revive Braille with utmost importance, it will push us further and further away from evolving with our own language and thereafter from the language we speak.

Unlike sighted people, we do not remember anyone telling us the importance of a writing system. People grow up seeing most other people jotting down things everywhere as texts of course and often making notes or writing things on their hands so that they remember, or they could refer to them later. So, this question of whether writing-system is important or does it hold any significance came ‘naturally’ to the seeing world.

DePiep, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I mean to emphasise here that a writing system plays a key role in coming closer to our language.

Sharmishthaa Atreja

We may take it very intuitively as sighted people, but if we think about a blind child, they may grow up experiencing and observing other people in their families use a writing-system, but if unless they are sent to special schools where Braille is taught, they may never get an idea that they are equally equipped to grow with their language in a similar fashion with  another writing-system. So, I suppose talking about Braille and celebrating its importance at every stage where the importance of language is celebrated remains in place till it becomes intuitive enough that we bring in Braille in our homes as and when we know that our child is a blind child or is going to grow up as one. So far, it is the thing of special schools limited to an understanding that it is a mode through which formal education to blind people could be imparted.

Would you now want to have a walk of the halls or the open spaces of the blind people’s organisations in India where Braille is celebrated on the Loise Braille day?… People walking with their hands held together, arms on each-other’s shoulders, noises of people calling out names to look for their friends, one would often hear people saying “Bachke-bachke” or “Carefully-carefully” as they would be carrying things from one place to the other as part of the arrangements. As one walks inside the buildings, one would find people writing essays for essay writing competitions in braille and Braille reading competitions.  Loudspeakers with recitations revering Louis Braille, poetry on literacy and liberation of the blind, gesticulated speeches expressing how Louise Braille is the real lord of the blind, music competition’s and Ghazal programmes claiming the sound spaces of the whole sector or the area and proclaiming the significance of blind people’s ways and values.

This is the celebration of magnanimity of access to knowledge. Blind people generally are imagined with Braille. It is rather symbolic to blindness and hence it is often thought that blind people do know Braille, but that is sadly not true as I just mentioned above that it is not yet an intuitive part of our writing culture and this celebration is limited to blind people and now it is rather getting even more limited to the 4th of January which is the International Braille Day.

But let us still say that all blind people have a braille story, even if it is a no-braille story. But one still has a story around Braille. We might forget this magnanimity in these technologically advanced times which also is undeniably another revolution for blind people, but none-the-less the importance of Braille is often felt and realised when one is a blind person and has a no-Braille story.

I am a person with a no-Braille story myself and I know many blind-professionals like me who do not know braille and find themselves helpless while they need their notes while they are presenting in a meeting or a class or even otherwise when our ears and mind give-up on listening to the synthetic voice that blind people with a no-Braille story have to rely on.

When I was going blind, I, like any other late-blind person, detested people who suggested my parents to send me to a blind school. Hence learning Braille at an early age when the mind is fully receptive could not happen with me and neither did, I realise the revolution it could bring in until I saw other blind contestants in a debate where they sounded assertive and clear with their points ready with Braille notes underneath their hands with enjoying tea and conversations with the other contestants during the breaks between the rounds, and here was I looking for peaceful corners of the buildings to remember the points noted in my head and going to-and-fro on that tape-recorder and yet not coming out smart enough to beat the pressure of a debate room.

So, what was it that was different in me and the other blind people there? Firstly, they enjoyed the advantage and quickness of the simultaneity. That is, they could talk and scroll up and down their notes to drop a point exactly when it was needed without having to wait and rather think about a point. Secondly and more importantly, they could keep their minds in loop and associate with their points in the notes and could advance with the thoughts in their minds. Thus,along with that access to facts, they had the anchorage that they needed to expand their thoughts, whereas I could only go on till the power of my memory and my oratory skills allowed.

I mean to emphasise here that a writing system plays a key role in coming closer to our language. Imagine if blind people only have to rely on screen-readers, i.e. the synthetic voice, there would then be a constant rift between the phonology of a particular language – especially if it is a local language where synthetic voices in ‘Roman’ do more harm than good. It would not be possible for blind people to then have the needed access to their mother language or the language as it is spoken.

Thus, I want to be a part of this true festivity of celebratory and liberatory movement of having access to one’s own thoughts and having to grow smoothly with my own language. Whether one is a born blind person or a late blind person, learning Braille is a ritual which one must go through as the confidence of having the letters right under your fingertips, hands smartly flowing through that stiff piece of paper cannot be substituted with any other skill.

To Be or Not To Be . . . a Mother Tongue in Nepal

If you head north from, say, Lucknow or Patna or Kolkota even, I can assure you, eventually you will pass into a country, believe it or not, which is not India.

A country which is the land of Lord Buddha’s birth , never mind what some Hindi cinema stars and politicians sometimes say.

Yes, Nepal.

Now Nepal, as you may know, is a rather small country with a lot of mother tongues.

Not one of them controversial . . .

Well, yeah, ONE of them is controversial.

After the interim constitution some years back, the one that led to the new constitution which allows for all mother tongues to be national languages, then elect Vice President Parmanand Jha decided to take the oath of office in . . . Hindi.

And there was bedlam! Protests high and low… How could he!? A travesty! Treason!! (And yes, a few of “What do you expect; he’s a [insert favourite derogative here] Madheshi!”)

In the end, he gave in . . . well, part way. And he retook the oath in his actual mother tongue (Maithili), and to make sure it was 100% legal, in Nepali as well.

But, why did he want to take it in Hindi in the first place? And when he did, why was there all the fuss?

Well, the answer to both is . . . politics.

From his side, politics is all about numbers, and his numbers are collected from a broad swath of land in the Madhes, Nepal’s south, where Maithili and Bhojpuri and Awadhi and Bajjika and Angika and Tharu and a few others as well are mother tongues of voters (the lucky ones who managed to secure citizenship papers). And for some odd reason, whereas choosing one of those “Madhesi” languages over the others to use in swearing in might have been seen as divisive (even when it is his actual mother tongue), using Hindi was not a problem. It was an acceptable compromise: a language of the Madhes (albeit mostly a second-language or lingua franca), and a language NOT Nepali (the language of the Centre which is seen as the oppressor since . . . well, since forever).

On the other side, well, the opposition to his use of Hindi was because, never mind whether or not Hindi is an actual mother tongue of actual Nepali citizens, and never mind which party they vote for (or against), and never mind even how many votes they control, Hindi is the unofficially official language of Big Brother to the south whom every true Nepali loves . . . and hates, in equal portions . . . love when the relationship is bhai-bhai, hate when it becomes bhai-bhaiya (and I’m talking ‘Gangs of Wasseypur’ variety bhaiyya, not your local greengrocer variety bhaiyya!)

Anyway . . .

So, is Hindi REALLY a mother tongue in Nepal? I am guessing it is, somewhere along the south. But, at least in the eastern half of the south, the parts I am more or less familiar with, and at home in, the other languages, Maithili and Bhojpuri and Awadhi and so on are still alive and well. And Urdu of course, in communities of Muslims (though mostly at home they too speak one of those other languages—well, again, the Muslims I am familiar with). But Hindi? Well, maybe, some Maithili-speaking papa and some Bhojpuri-speaking momma might just be speaking Hindi to their mother-tongue-yet-decided baby.

But, beyond that, it seems to me that we also have an uncounted abundance of mother-tongue Hindi speakers in Nepal – not in the south, but in the middle-class neighbourhoods of Kathmandu and Pokhara, and indeed wherever there is electricity and televisions.

Though of course I am using “mother tongue” loosely. For, does one necessarily get one’s “mother” tongue from ones mother? Are motherless orphans who grow up with their father only thereby deprived of having a mother tongue? No, of course not. One can get one’s mother tongue from ones mother, or father, or cousin brother, or even next-door auntie, isn’t it?

And perhaps, I would argue, one can also get it (maybe not your first mother tongue, but a second one) from the TV.

Because, and I can speak from experience, anyone who has been around any 4 or 5 or 6 year old in Kathmandu, far from the Hindi Belt, if the family has cable television, I can guarantee that kid speaks fluent Hindi. Cartoon Channel Hindi. ドラえもん (Doraemon) and Scooby-Doo and a host of other friends speak quite excellent Hindi it turns out!

Lesson to be learned from this on Mother-Tongue Day:

My advise to anyone trying to revitalise a mother tongue community having trouble finding ways to pass on that mother tongue to anyone under the age of 10:

Get Cartoon Channel dubbed into your mother tongue, asap!