Breakfast Babble is ED’s own little space on the interwebs where we gather to discuss ideas and get pumped up (or not) for the day. We judge things too. Sometimes. Always. Whatever, call it catharsis and join in, people.
The other day, I was sitting quietly when Hindi cleared her throat and muttered, “You know, I’m tired of being called a bully. I just wanted to be loved like the others.”
Tamil rolled her eyes, flipped her ancient script, and said, “Love? Or dominance? There’s a difference, sweetheart.”
Telugu giggled nervously, brushing her vowels, while Bengali hummed Tagore’s tune and sighed, “At least they don’t mistake you for someone from another country.”
I blinked. Was I hallucinating, or were the languages… talking?
“Oh, we talk,” Sanskrit snapped, adjusting her centuries-old shawl. “But no one listens. Except you, apparently. The only human who doesn’t turn us into a political party symbol.”
Urdu lit a cigarette made of couplets and said, “It’s tragic, really. We all came from the same root. Same linguistic womb. And now look at our speakers foaming at the mouth over road signs.”
Marathi, with her stern sari folds, nodded grimly. “Once I saw a man throw a chair because a shop signboard wasn’t in my script. A chair, beta. Over a font.”
Gujarati offered snacks. “Let them fight, at least they’re not banning food today.”
Kannada joined in, voice low but proud, “I’m just tired of being called South Indian as if I’m a direction, not a culture.”
Punjabi laughed too loudly, slapping the table. “They forget we’ve written revolutions. Now we’re reduced to being wedding songs and protest hashtags.”
And there I was just a listener in a nation where people love their mother tongues so much, they’re ready to beat up someone else’s.
The languages looked at me, tired, united in only one thing: disdain for their users.
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“We were born to tell stories, not divide states,” Malayalam murmured, adjusting her lush curls. “We held lullabies, scriptures, rebellions, heartbreak. Now we hold political agendas.”
“Honestly,” Hindi sighed, “We never fought. Our speakers did. Because humans love labels more than meaning.”
I asked, “So what do you want?”
Sanskrit stood tall. “Stop fighting in our name. We’re siblings, not enemies.”
And just like that, they went quiet.
Meanwhile, outside, a protest began over a metro announcement being in ‘too many languages.’
India, the land where unity in diversity died in a language debate.
And I, the only one who heard them whisper: “Stop using us as weapons. We were born to speak, not scream.”
Sources: Blogger’s own opinion
Find the blogger: Katyayani Joshi
This post is tagged under:indian languages, linguistic diversity, language politics, satire india, unity in diversity, indian identity crisis, hindi imposition, save regional languages, indian culture satire, multilingual india, language wars, indian states issues, india unity message, stop language hate, language-based discrimination, indian satire writing, language and identity, languages of india, cultural divide india, political misuse of language
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