A variety of one
The world might be fast changing but there’s nothing new about it. For as long as our historians and anthropologists can go, this world of…
The world might be fast changing but there’s nothing new about it. For as long as our historians and anthropologists can go, this world of ours has always been on the move. About 50 years ago, regression (read: patriarchy) was a thing. It still is but we don’t deny its toxicity. About a century ago, there were empires. We have superpowers now. About 200 years ago, child labour wasn’t frowned upon. Kids are exploited in poorer countries but not without scratching the conscience of international community. About 300 years ago, germs didn’t exist because nobody—not even the scientists — would unanimously agree to believe in something they can’t see. If they can’t see, how can they believe? A very good question. A terrible answer awaited the doubting Thomases of science. Likewise, we can keep stretching back in time and note how the world at large often found itself in a hurry to discard the past and embrace the future. Closer home, we preen at our fathers’ and grandfathers’ old pictures and try not to cringe at their style statements. Some decades down the line, our grandkids would do the same to our sense of clothing.
Change is not a choice. It’s more like being caught in a rain. Having an umbrella won’t change the fact that it’s raining. Nonetheless, as is the norm, during the process of change, a dominant fish consumes the smaller ones. A new way enters the picture and before anybody realizes it, it destroys the old way. Is there anything wrong with it? No, as long as nobody’s getting harmed. For instance, if a tribal village in Amazon is accepting modernity and enjoying technology along with a disease-free life, what’s the harm in it? On first look, none. But on closer inspection, you’ll learn that they tend to give up on their language, customs and mannerism in order to accept the more dominant way of life. In simpler words, cultures die. There is no exchange of culture here. It’s a one-way traffic. Let’s bring the point closer home, the concept of mother tongue is dying a slow death. A lot of parents don’t feel it’s necessary to teach their offspring the language of their ancestors. Come to think of it, it’s a fair decision. How can you teach your little one you yourself are not excellent in? And even if you are, why would you neglect the social convenience of making sure your kid prioritize English and other international languages?
Balance is sorely missing.
You don’t have to be a Mangalorean like me to see the decline of a language — and the extended cultural byproducts — in cities. We can notice it everywhere. The sad part is the utter ignorance showcased in this transformation. Personally, I don’t care about customs, rituals or traditions as much as I love languages. Why? Because without a language, there is nothing else. An identity is built on lingual foundation. Which is also why it’s depressing to see young folks calling themselves Assamese or Malayali or Punjabi or Bengali when they don’t even speak their language anymore. But then, again, it’s not entirely their fault. A system is in place and we are busy running around. The world is moving away from its rural realities toward an urban utopia which doesn’t truly exist. They admire the shiny screensaver of a city and end up paying an exorbitant ransom for their innocent dream.
Thanks to this blinded approach, we remain where we are; on the verge of losing something that can’t be scaled against money. In a strange twist of plot, the 21st century seems like a melting pot of monoculture where only a few dominant players will be allowed to flourish while the rest of them can disappear into a void of no return. And if you hear closely, you can almost hear our world say: “We’ll kill you gradually but guess what? We’ll miss you too!”