The wedding toast scene from English Vinglish (2012), featuring Shashi (played by Sridevi - who's about 49 at the time!)

On the second day in Jaipur, Kumar-ji (our AIIS “Bhagvan” aka “god” - all knowing, all powerful secretary and administrator of everything) brought my roommate and me to check out and decide on a host home. In the taxi, when my roommate started speaking Hindi to practice, Kumar-ji explained to the driver that we were American students here to study Hindi. The driver laughed, delighted, and said "your Hindi is much more pure than ours!"

From then on, I've noticed, people in Jaipur are usually surprised, delighted, or entertained when they find out a foreigner is learning their language and welcome it. Whether I’m chatting with vendors, rickshawalas (rickshaw drivers), waiters, or just any strangers, people are impressed with the fact that I am learning Hindi, and even impressed with my speaking skills — when I know that my accent is far from accurate. It’s encouraging to know that my efforts learning Hindi in India are appreciated. Having this experience, however, makes me think about the experience of learning English in America and in the world.

Appropriately, our class watched “English Vinglish” (2012) (summary and review), a Bollywood movie about the struggles of Shashi, an Indian woman determined to learn English. At home in Pune, her family members make subtle (sometimes not), biting comments about her lack of English knowledge and in general, make her feel inferior. When she has to travel to New York for a niece’s wedding, she takes the opportunity to “Learn English In 4 Weeks” after seeing an advertisement.

Shashi’s struggles, growth, friendships, and romantic drama all amount to the climactic scene at the wedding, when she’s asked to make a toast and her husband, as usual, tries to silence her, apologizing to the crowd for her lack of English skills (what a jerk). But Shashi surprises the crowd and proves herself with a touching speech in English about love, family, and self-respect. Shabash, Shashi! (Way to go, Shashi!)


You should see the look on her husband’s face when he watches Shashi order food in English on the plane at the end of the movie — it’s like she has acquired new worth in his eyes. I found that uncomfortable. As cute and fun as the movie was, the whole premise of the film had undertones about language in India that I couldn’t ignore. Shashi’s story projected the idea that someone’s worth can rely on their ability to speak a language, specifically English, which reflects the reality in India and perhaps other similarly colonized countries.

Read this enlightening article I found from Forbes about “The Problem with the English Language in India” (2014) by Sahith Aula. It highlights and explains the oppression that results when a minority language is considered institutionally, systematically elite. With just 30% able, “to varying degrees,” speak English, and even less able to read and write it, there's a barrier to access for the vast majority of the country. As Aula states, “a person’s socioeconomic status in Indian society is approximately in line with his or her fluency in [English],” because so many institutions, including those of government, employment, education, and health operate in English rather than the local languages that the majority of people speak in each region.

This presents some kind of hierarchy of language where English and English speakers are higher up. The people in India who are surprised or happy about my learning Hindi find it unusual and ironic; one time a rickshawala said that, when local people find out Westerners are learning Hindi, they're wide eyed, because we are the ones who are trying to learn English! Furthermore, when I tell Americans that I'm learning Hindi, many have said, "Why? People speak English there!" — which is true. By speaking English, I can get around in India fine, because I have access to the most privileged spaces. So why bother learning a local language?

Well, my answer: take Shashi's story as a metaphor. Shashi wouldn't have felt compelled to learn English if she didn't already consider it legitimate to hold her English inability against her; her experiences with the English world and English speakers told her she was incapable and inferior, when really, she deserved the respect of everyone around her the whole time anyways. During that toast, her family members finally heard her when she spoke in English, and understood her, and were humbled (and in tears). Just because someone doesn't speak English, doesn't mean they should not be heard by those who do. 

Couldn't buy a piano, so I bought the only Uke I could find in Jaipur! Hindi covers coming up :)

I bet you’ve forgotten that this blog exists! I’m not too surprised that I haven’t posted anything until 6 weeks into the program, but I’ve also often felt disappointed at myself for it. Every weekend I would realize another week has passed without any progress on the blog, and it would bother me until the next weekend, when I realized yet another week had passed.

Recently, a similar occurrence revealed to me a quite hindering flaw I often struggle with. On Saturday, I had a late start to the day, and wanted to make the most of the 7 or so hours I had left to go out into the city. But because of technology failures, transportation arrangements, and general circumstances, I was left in a state of limbo, waiting for nearly 3 hours to go meet a friend. I had felt like I couldn't start any work because I was expecting her call at any moment, and hours flew out the window as I tried and failed to contact her. By the time I broke my cyclical logic and decided on a low-time-commitment-productive thing to do while waiting, I finally received her call and had to leave. Those hours of nothingness, unable to make myself productive or useful, were unbearably frustrating. I confess that I was nearly in tears by the end of it.

I'm a compulsive workaholic, or productivity-a-holic (if that’s a thing?) in that way. Any period of time must be dedicated to some goal or task. At the end of it, I want change, progress, action — some sign of efficiency measured in terms of my original goal, ideally in a tangible, perceptible form. This explains a lot about my working habits and my time management, which actually often work against my productivity. (It might even explain my lifelong affinity for art and music - more on this can be saved for another post!) Especially now, as I spend limited, school-funded time in India, I have the constant feeling that all time is precious and must be juiced for productivity.

With this mindset, I often get stuck like I did this past Saturday; my mind was so set on leaving the house to explore the city, it was hard for me to step back and think of other creative ways to occupy my time stuck at home. Similarly, coming into this summer program, I wanted this blog to be a concrete measure of efficiency, thinking that an audience would make me more motivated to keep up the blog, and that its multimedia nature provided room for creativity. Focused on this, my failure to update it has made me feel like I've fallen short of my potential. What I’ve come to realize is that in reality, my productivity this summer, whether in language learning or in time spent, can take many unexpected forms, as long as I choose to see them.

For instance, at halfway through the AIIS program a few weeks ago, me being me, I was suddenly struck with the (irrational) feeling that I’ve done nothing really, and perhaps I’ll go home from this program having done nothing! (Not literally, but more literally than you think) As a student living in the host country of the language I'm studying, everything from health, classes, homework, housework, the people around me, and the city around me, becomes an ordinary part of daily living. It feels like I'm just doing what's necessary to get by, not accomplishing anything notable. Furthermore, it doesn't help that AIIS hasn't given us a way to track our language progress in any tangible form, and that I keep focusing on my inadequate blogging.

In reality, so much has been happening both intellectually and experientially in small, but many ways. To start, I’ve been riding my bike to and from school, and after fearing for my life a handful of times in the Indian city traffic, I conquered my nerves and got the hang of it. I’ve travelled to two other cities and visited a few NGO’s. I've been improving in Hindi subtly while bargaining everyday out of necessity with countless shop owners or rickshawalas (rickshaw drivers), staring at the TV during dinner, or just hearing the language around me. I've been able learn from way more people than I ever have in India by just having the confidence to approach someone in Hindi, rather than just English. I’ve had some deep, meaningful conversations with the kind of friends I didn't know I was missing.

In short, I've realized that it's always easier for me to identify when I've failed at the goals I had in mind for myself, than when I've improved or achieved in a way I hadn't been looking out for. It just happens to be that I tend set rather specific goals, and become fixated on them -- like this blog. These two months, I’ve been taking notes on so many thoughts about privilege, tourism, anthropology, religion, language, etc… that I haven’t been able to properly, concisely package for the blog just yet, but will in a couple of weeks when the program ends. While I have felt that not updating this blog as frequently as I hoped was a failure on my part, I’ve also now recognized that I’m in control of my definition of productivity. So, sorry (not sorry) for the delay! (But do enjoy the music :) )