Amma, I’ve told you a thousand times not to use your native language in front of Chintu. He has an interview at the International School tomorrow.
If he goes there and says “How are you?”, “How are you?”, or “Ram-Ram,” I’ll be disgraced.
You know, even with donations, you can’t get admission there; only status and class are considered.”
Sameer said irritably to his mother, Kaveri Devi.
Kaveri Devi, who came from the village and spoke a pure local dialect, fell silent after hearing her grandson’s scolding. She put back the laddus she had taken out of her bag.
She wanted to feed her grandson the laddus she had made with her own hands and shower him with blessings, but her motherly affection was overwhelmed by her son’s “status.”
Sameer and his wife, Riya, had been memorizing their five-year-old son, Aarav (Chintu), like a parrot for the past month. “Say hello,” “Say good morning,” “My name is Aarav.”
The atmosphere at home felt like military training. Kaveri Devi had been strictly instructed to Until Aarav’s interview was over, they should stay away from him, so that their “village” language wouldn’t affect the child’s “class.”
The next morning, Sameer, Riya, and Aarav arrived at the school. It was the city’s most prestigious school, with long queues of wealthy students.
Everyone was speaking in English.
Sameer and Riya were nervous. Then it was their turn.
The principal’s cabin was very large. Mr. D’Souza, the school principal, was known for his strict temperament.
He asked Aarav for names in English, for colors. Aarav gave memorized answers.
Sameer and Riya had smiles on their faces. Everything was going according to plan.
Just then, Mr. D’Souza put down his pen and looked into Aarav’s eyes. I looked at him and asked: “Son, when a big guest comes to your house, or you meet your grandparents, what is the first thing you do?”
Sameer’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t taught this. He had only taught “Hi-Hello.”
Aarav fell silent. Sameer gestured to him to say “Good Morning.”
But Aarav didn’t do what Sameer had taught. Aarav got down from his chair,
slowly walked to Principal Mr. D’Souza and bowed down to touch his feet.
Then, with folded hands, he said innocently, “Pranam Guruji! Ram-Ram!”
Silence fell over the room. Sameer felt that rejection was certain.
He began to get angry at his mother—that she must have secretly taught him all this.
Something happened that Sameer hadn’t even imagined.
Mr. D’Souza, who had been serious until now, burst out laughing. He picked up Aarav and placed him on his lap.
“Mr. Sameer,” the principal said, “I’ve interviewed fifty students since this morning.
Everyone was saying ‘Hi,’ ‘Hello,’ and ‘Good Morning,’ like robots.
But what your son did is part of our culture. These values are not found in books.”
Sameer was stunned. Mr. D’Souza continued:
“Today’s educated parents are cutting their own roots in the race to make their children English.
A child will learn English in school, but touching the feet of elders, saying ‘Ram-Ram’, taking pride in one’s language… these are learned at home. Who teaches them all this?”
Aarav chirped, “My grandmother! She says that education brings humility, and the greatest education is to bow down.”
The principal looked at Sameer, “Please convey my regards to your mother. Her grandson was selected today only because he has a unique identity.”
Language is a means of communication, not a matter of shame.”
There was silence in the car on the way home. Sameer remembered his own words—”unclear language,” “You’ll lose face.” Today, those same “unclear” manners had earned him respect at the top school.
As soon as he reached home, Sameer went straight to his mother. Kaveri Devi was sitting near the Tulsi plant in the courtyard. Without saying a word, Sameer placed his head at his mother’s feet.
“Oh, what happened, Lalla? Did the interview go bad?”
I told you not to let my shadow fall on him,” Kaveri Devi said nervously.
“No, Mom,” tears of remorse welled in Sameer’s eyes.
“The interview went very well. And that’s only because of you.
Forgive me, Mom. I had forgotten that no matter how tall a tree grows, if its roots are cut, it will dry up.”
Sameer called Aarav over and said, “Son, tell Grandma what you did in school.”
When Aarav told her, Kaveri Devi hugged him.
That day, Sameer understood that you can become ‘modern’ with suits and English,
But you become ‘human’ only through your values. He realized that it is true:
Our mother tongue and culture have survived only because of illiterate people. Otherwise, educated people like us are now embarrassed to even say ‘Ram-Ram’ and consider it backwardness.
That evening, while entering the house, Sameer also did not greet his mother with “Hi Mom” but with folded hands and said “Ram-Ram”. The smile that appeared on Kaveri Devi’s wrinkled face was more precious than any degree.
It is not wrong to become modern, but forgetting your roots, your language and your elders is the biggest foolishness.
English is a language, a skill, but our mother tongue and our values are our identity. Don’t be ashamed of your culture, but be proud of it.