Never being a great fan of Bollywood, I’ve always been selective when it comes to watching them. The latest I watched, “Hindi Medium”, got me thinking, for the growing popularity of the concept.
Basically insistent on bringing out the standpoint of the English language across the metropolitan cities in India in an attempt to satirise the rat-race of vanity, the film rightfully brings out the most perturbing linguistic issue in our country, showing how a solitary language has emerged powerful enough to demarcate societal classes, hindering the objective of behavioural equality. All was going well until the typical filmi twist at the end when the otherwise boisterously eloquent elites were rendered speechless by the nouveau riche protagonists, who embodied the struggles and sacrifices one has to go through to enter the true-blue posh drawing-room society in Delhi. However prepared I was, for some similar dramatic conclusion, what perplexed me beyond measure is the oxymoronic ending song of the film, which blared on as the credits started rolling. Weaved in the same accent and the language that was so attacked in the film, the song continued merrily with the cliched dubstep, conflicting in its content and context; the lines being-
“Now whatever you at bae/ You can make the whole room stare/ But you know that my favourite/ Is when you’re rocking that desi swag..”
Needless to say, so ingrained the class-consciousness of the English-educated “class” of people is, they’d blabber their contemplation in the similarly showcased manner, while coming out of the hall. Moments later as they walk into the restaurant for the post-movie gastronomic pleasure, they’d purse their lips at those having difficulty pronouncing the fancy names of the delicacies, secretly luxuriating in the latent triumph of being privileged enough to be brought up in a clique that has taught never to lower the esteem of this foreign language and customs by being “desi” from the heart. This way, even if you’re a hip college-goer, you’d be welcome to the circle only if you can quote Kafka or get high on Velvet Underground, correlating your sense of psychological alienation with the general disgust towards the banality of life while simultaneously using it to socialise.
Clearly a result of prolonged colonialisation, it’s surprising how a solitary language can emerge powerful enough even after all these years of independence to demarcate societal classes and continue ruling us long after the Englishmen vacated this nation. It personally makes me feel disturbed to realise how my school and society taught me too, that I’d be without value in life if I can’t read, speak, or, the heck, even think in English. But perhaps it was their way of inculcating the fact in me, that, no matter how qualifiedly able you are, that’s just penultimate; for, the ultimate hurdle of getting a job (or getting accepted by the society, for that matter), remains your eloquence in English. Especially in sectors where you have to deal with public in person. English, instead of a language, has become the Prada, without which you’re as good as naked. Other European languages remain as accessories— the more, the merrier. When in fact, what you’re preaching is the elegance of minimalism. Contradictions, galore. Enough to confuse and intimidate and alienate those who try to break in to the circle.
I’m not blaming the situation. i’m not even confining it to the labelled jars of being good or bad, for, things in the current era are in such a grayscale, you can never separate the black from the white. Stating a happening phenomenon and affirming with the film’s subject matter, I’m just wondering the fate of the lost glorious path, as we are made to analyse the gems produced by our nation, gems like Tagore (not Thakur!) and Premchand, but— in English. Is it because of the complexity of a chaotic conglomeration of over 1600 languages in the country (of which 22 are officially recognised), that English could bowl it all clean and wear the crown, instead of allowing the formation of a beautiful neckpiece with such abundance of myriad beads, discarding them as worthless substance of no class or future?
post-script— Oops, should I just rewind up the whole thing? It’s simply terrorising to see how free speech and freedom of expression is in the face of extinction. Such a shame for the largest democracy in the world to do so. Hope I haven’t written anything untoward enough to offend the surprisingly inquisitive authoritative forces in my country.
incogirl7 