"Bangla and I"

There is an underlying sense of pride to claim oneself as a bilingual, or even a multilingual. I, for one, can speak English and Bangla. My cousins, on the other hand, speak English and French. It is the pride that accompanies the act of speaking in your mother tongue that has driven me to write this essay.

When I was younger- or in other words when I was yet to understand the impact my mother tongue would have on my life- I would question myself : “Which language really is my mother tongue?”. The question arises from the fact that I was born in the United States. One’s mother tongue is defined as “the language one has grown up speaking, that is used in their home country”. Studying at a school with an English curriculum, English indeed was the language I was taught from the very beginning. Would not my birthplace further add to English being my mother tongue?

Certainly not. The US may be my birth country, but it is most definitely not my home country. My home, my abode, and my heart forever lies in Bangladesh. Afterall, ‘home is where the heart is’. Consequently, Bangla is close to my heart as well. In my household and even in my friend group, Bangla is predominantly spoken. Thus, I have always been surrounded by Bangla, which is part of the reason I have grown to love this language.

Bangla itself is a sweet-sounding language, and I have never heard anyone deny this statement. Eloquently spoken Bangla can move even the hardest of hearts, and melt the coldest of souls. There is a certain mysterious allure in the language that captures one’s attention. I had effectively learnt this at the age of seven- after hearing a moving poem narrated on the television.

Nowadays, many among the youth are opting to live abroad for educational purposes. The sad reality of the situation is that said people end up losing their fluency in their mother tongue! Just thinking that thought should make any respectable person feel dejected. Your mother tongue should be part of your identity, ethnicity and who you are as a person. Losing your mother language is equivalent to losing your family. I have seen so many from my own family who have forgotten to speak Bangla over the years. They can barely communicate with most of our family members, and are unable to hold conversations with them.

One’s mother tongue unites. The feeling of meeting someone in a foreign country with the same mother language as yours has to be one of the happiest emotions one can feel. I can testify to this, as I myself had met two Bangladeshis during my 3-month-stay in America. The moment I began talking in Bangla with them, my chest had felt lighter- because my heart had been content. I could feel comfort and contentment rolling off in waves from them, too. Such is the power of one’s mother tongue.

In conclusion, Bangla to me is part of my personality. It is my mother tongue and also my comfort language. Even if I travel abroad in the future, I will try my best to be as connected to Bangla as I am today- and I hope I can keep that promise.

-Sarah Shaikh (VII-R)

Coming from a country like Bangladesh, I think it says it all. The name itself says what the language means for the people. It is called "Bangla-desh" which means the "Country of Bangla". Bangla is the official language of the nation. I do not think there is any other country which has a mention of its official language in its name.

We are called "Bangla-deshis". We genuinely like our language to the point where we feel it necessary to be identified as Bangla speakers. Making Bangla our official language was a difficult task for us. We had to fight for the right to speak the language. Bangladeshis had to pay a high price for the right to speak this language. There have been many martyrs who had to offer their lives for the sake of protecting Bangla. It is because of that that we can now proudly speak this language. In fact, "International Mother Language Day" is now celebrated on February 21st.

Growing up in a family where Bangla is the only language used, it has always been and continues to be the language with which I am most comfortable. This is the language I learned from my mother, the language I use when I argue with my siblings, and the language I speak with my grandparents. Only in this language am I able to properly explain myself. No other language, in my opinion, can ever replace Bangla in my life.

The other two languages I am fluent in are English and French. Those languages were taught to me at school. However, I do not use them as frequently as I use Bangla. When I read English books, listen to English music, or watch an English film, I never feel as emotionally connected to them as I do to Bangla poems, books, songs, or films.

Bangla and I, I believe, have a very close bond. It is extremely important to me. I honestly cannot imagine what my life would be like without it. I am fortunate enough to have this as my official language. I am proud to call this "my" language.

- Azalea Hossain (VII-S)

Bangla is my life

I cannot imagine a life without Bangla.

Bangla is my mother tongue

My first words were in Bangla.

One of the most beautiful languages

In the world is Bangla.

Many lives were lost

For the sake of Bangla.

My favourite song

Is sung in Bangla.

My favourite poem

Is recited in Bangla.

When I think,

I think in Bangla.

When I dream,

I dream in Bangla.

I again and again see the face of Bangla.

I have walked so far in the path of kindness in Bangla.

- Ayaz Rahman (VII-R)

Throughout my childhood, my relationship with Bangla has had many ups and downs.

In the beginning, I was quite close to my first language, Bangla. In fact, during my years as a toddler, I would only speak Bangla, and that too quite fluently. However, this changed when I had moved to the US after I had turned four.

In 2011, when my mother got the opportunity to pursue her Ph.D. in the United States, my brother and I accompanied her. There, as we began our new life in Arkansas, my connection with Bangla started going downhill. In school I learned to read and write English, but I still hadn’t learned writing and reading in Bangla. As time passed, I started to speak more English and less Bangla, since my mother was the only one who I spoke to in Bangla. Moreover, as my primary mode of communication was English in school, English became easier, and more natural for me. I didn’t know at that time that I was slowly losing my touch with Bangla. It wasn’t my decision, and it wasn’t something I was even aware of. It just happened slowly over the years, something I didn’t notice because it wasn’t affecting my life.

Then came the point in my life where I started hating Bangla. In 2017, when we came back to Dhaka after the completion of my mother’s studies, I started to resent Bangladesh and Bangla, because I naively held them responsible for making me leave Arkansas, which by then I had considered as my home. I was no longer the same person who had left Dhaka at the age of four. I couldn’t speak Bangla, but I could understand it. When I was admitted to Sunbeams, it was tough assimilating to the school system. If it had not been for Aymaan, my best friend, it would have been harder for me to adjust to a Bangladeshi school. She was like me, and had moved to Bangladesh after living in the US.

In the US, I was one of the best students in English, even though English wasn’t my first language. On the contrary, I didn't know how to read or write in Bangla, but in class, I was expected to be able to use a language which I hadn’t even learned properly. I think that is one of the reasons I started to try and push it away from me; it was easier to give up rather than trying to get my Bangla back.

Bangla became my least favourite subject. Whenever I tried to study the stories for Bangla literature, I couldn’t pronounce the words correctly or understand what they meant. I would get so upset that I would throw my book at my wall while in tears. This resentment of learning Bangla went on for a whole year. However, in 2018, I started seeing Bangla from a new perspective. In Class IV, I met our new Bangla teacher, Nighat Miss. She was nice to me and would teach me separately during the Bangla periods, so I could understand the material. Moreover, when I started playing the flute in 2019, I was introduced to a lot of classical Bengali music, and taught about our Language Movement and Liberation War. The lyrics of these songs made me realise the beauty of the Bangla language. Even today, the more I play the flute, the closer I get to Bangla.

I still have trouble communicating in Bangla at present. However, all the anecdotes I have just related have helped me transform my hatred to a love for this language. Nowadays, I am a lot more conscious about making sure that I am speaking more Bangla. I have started reading Bangla books too, and watching Bangla movies about our liberation, which are quite eye-opening. I hope in the future I can grow even closer to my Bengali culture, heritage, history, art, music, and language. Everyone in the world can find a haven in their mother tongue, and mine lies with Bangla.

- Zunaira Shayma Mashroor (VII-H)

Bangla and I,

have been together since forever.

It was the very first language I learnt to speak ever.

In Bangla I talk and I sing and I write,

I speak it when I am sad or I am happy, it is my light.

For this special language, people paraded and they fought.

Liberation and freedom of speech is what they brought.

Even when I am speaking other languages, some Bangla words might slip in.

I can speak Bangla more fluently than any other language without a doubt within.

I speak Bangla when I am overwhelmed or stressed.

Without any hesitation, I believe Bangla language is the best.

- Onogho Ridhdho Arif (VII-R)

On the 21st of February, 1952, gallant Bangladeshi martyrs had sacrificed their lives in order to achieve the right to speak in Bangla, our mother tongue. Now recognised as “International Mother Language Day”, 21st February is an eternal source of confidence and pride for all Bangladeshis. Bangla may not be as prevalent as English or French, but it forms my identity and I am proud of my language.

This language connects the diverse populations of Bangladesh and permits the 165 million people residing here to coordinate with liaison. Many residents of Bangladesh can not speak English, therefore the Bangla language is vital for mass communication.

Bangla to me is much more than a language. Bangla to me is an opportunity to connect and express my emotions uninhibitedly. When I speak in Bangla, I am usually more expressive and evocative, and I do not have to struggle to find appropriate vocabulary. I enjoy reading Bangla books and watching Bengali movies as it assists me in improving my Bangla grammar in an efficient but congenial way!

Though we are required to learn and practise English for better educational and employment possibilities, I believe Bangla should be regarded with equal importance as it is our mother language. We should try our best to be able to speak Bangla fluently. However, many people, especially the younger generation of this country, have started to combine unnecessary English words with Bangla sentences.

By speaking in Bangla, we augment our feeling of nationalism. As a nation, we are the only country who fought for our language. Therefore, even while travelling, I feel a natural affinity towards acquaintances who speak in Bangla.

Bangladesh without Bangla is unimaginable. Bangla is a predominant part of every Bangladeshi’s life. Without Bangla, all of our identities would be incomplete.

- Shaama Hosain (VII-S)

Bangla- the language which was fought and died for. The unforgettable martyrs are the reason that we can freely speak this language today. Furthermore, they are the reason Bangladesh is a country of its own. However, every day, ever so slightly, I feel like we are becoming more disconnected from this language. Maybe it is because of how much English or foreign media we are being exposed to or people just have the need to speak it less because of how many people are able to understand English. It could even be because of educational reasons. To be honest, I myself am not very connected with Bangla.

The first two and a half years of my life were spent in Bangladesh. My entire family is Bangladeshi with some Indian roots on my father’s side. During this time, Bangla was the only language that I knew of, English was out of the question. In early 2010, my parents decided to move to Australia. This was a place where a lot of people did not even know Bangladesh was a country, let alone speak Bangla, so obviously I had to learn English.

Year by year, the need for speaking Bangla decreased and slowly I stopped speaking it. Back then I had not realised how grave the situation could become. I just told myself that, “It’s my mother tongue, so there is no way that I’ll forget it.”

This is a time where the phrase “Never say never,” comes in handy, because slowly I started forgetting the simplest of words in Bangla. My parents picked up on this and tried encouraging me to speak Bangla more often, by doing things like pretending they did not understand English. However, that did not quite work because I could still understand Bangla easily, but for some strange reason I could not speak it. To this day, I still do not know why I was not able to speak it properly but understand nearly every word of it.

When I came back to Bangladesh four years ago, I needed to learn Bangla from the basics- the letters, spelling, and reading. On top of all that, all my friends were studying in Bangla at their grade level while I was working on the basics, so it was also slightly demoralising. Learning Bangla from the basics felt very strange. It felt as if I was slowly completing a puzzle that I had given up on years ago. There were parts that I breezed through and parts that I struggled with. Eventually I was able to catch up to my grade. I cannot say I am good at Bangla but I can understand what is taught in the classes and get passing grades.

The main point of my story is that it is possible to forget a language that one could assume they would be able to speak for the rest of their lives. However, you can always pick up where you left off. Even though I mix up words or switch into English in the middle of a Bangla sentence every now and then, I am proud to say that Bangla is my mother tongue.

- Amaan Ali Haider (VII-H)

I have lost my touch,

From the language I know so much.

I hear it everyday

In my house and from those with whom I play.

When the shopkeeper tells me the price,

I feel melancholy with my demise,

For I have lost my touch,

From the numbers I have been taught so much.

I know what I’m trying to say,

But it will be too late anyway,

By the time the words float to my conscience,

The shopkeeper has lost his patience.

Because I have lost my touch,

So I don’t know,

The meaning of তিপ্পান্ন (fifty-three).

- Arvin Md. Shams (VII-S)

Bangla and I are…complicated. It’s like the relationship between loving middle-class parents and their isolated teenage daughter. There is a bit of a “gap” or “bridge” in their relationship, and so it feels distant. Deep down I love my language, and I love my culture, but all my interests and preferences and my whole mindset is western due to my upbringing, causing me to feel distant from my culture. It’s the same for my family, and I think that is applicable here because I interrelate the Bangla language with my family.

I interact with my friends and make new acquaintances in English. I listen to English songs, and all the media I watch is in English. I even talk to my younger sister in English, because that’s the language that comes to her (and partially me) naturally. My parents and close extended family are more or less the only people who speak to me in Bangla, and since they were born in a generation where English was less prominent, I associate my mother tongue with them. Hence growing close to my culture and language means growing close to my family, and I’m not the best suited for that, as I have always been a little emotionally distant from my family members.

Sometimes I do feel guilty for not being close to my language and history, especially since it’s part of my (national) identity. It makes me feel guilty and slightly embarrassed that my Bangla fluency isn’t as developed as my English one. Even though I’m not very devoted to matters like these, I do want to experience the warmth and intimacy of being close with my family and with my language, especially when they both seem so welcoming and tender.

I mainly wish to maintain a healthy but liberating relationship with my familial and cultural backgrounds. Whenever I speak Bangla at home, even if it’s something as minor as “জি ” (“yes”) or “কী” (“what?”), I feel a sense of pride and warmth in being one step closer to my motherland and language than I was before. Bangla as a language has played an important role in forming our history, and speaking it is a gateway to becoming closer to our heritage.

- Amaya Huq (VII-S)