“Amma, will you teach me Hindi? I want to learn Hindi,” my daughter asked me a few days before the school closed for summer vacation.
“Why not! I will teach you during your holidays. It will also help you during our trip to Kashmir,” I replied. I was happy to see that she was enthusiastic about learning Hindi. We had chosen Malayalam as her second language in school.
It is good to learn a new language, I thought to myself. So I set about preparing to teach my daughter the new language. I got her an old Standard I Hindi textbook from one of my friends. I chalked out a lesson plan for her during the holidays. I was bent upon teaching her a little Hindi at the least.
The holidays began. I let her take the first two days off. Then I slowly took up the matter.
“Shall we begin to study Hindi,” I asked her the next day. I did not see the enthusiasm on her face this time when she heard the word study. However, her face brightened when I told her these lessons would help her during our trip. She agreed for the first lessons, grumbling a bit.
With her favourite TV channel kept on, she sat down to write the alphabet. I explained to her to learn two letters and two new words every day. I left her to write and learn the letters. As I returned after a while, I found to my dismay that she had almost drawn all of them on the notebook. And she was fully engrossed in the idiot box.
My first attempt to teach my daughter a new language failed. Either I was not a good teacher or the holiday spirit had wiped out the feeling to study in her. Whatever, I tried to persuade her several times, but she wouldn’t bulge. I did not feel like pushing her a lot during her well-earned holidays.
Finally our trip to the Kashmir, the land of dreams, commenced. The first landing at Delhi was a complete change in the scenario. I found my daughter becoming more inquisitive. She was listening to the people speak around her in Hindi and kept on asking me the meaning of it. Whenever somebody asked her something in Hindi, she would look at me wide-eyed and remain silent. I gave her a “I told you” look.
Anyway my daughter understood the importance of the language once she landed outside our native State. She would listen to us elders speak to the shopkeepers, taxi drivers and natives in rapt attention. Our stay in Kashmir however did not really need any language. Kashmir is the language of the heart. Her snow-capped mountains, cool and fresh air, pine trees and beautiful flowers and people would make you think you are in a dream.
During our days in Kashmir, I was surprised to find my daughter pick up words in Hindi. She fumbled with the commonly used words and asked me for assistance whenever she wanted. By the time we were ready to leave Kashmir, though with a heavy heart, my daughter could speak a few Hindi words with much ease. And she seemed so sure of herself. This was the perfect way to teach a new language, I thought to myself. Just visit the land of the language for a few days.
Back home, Kashmir remained fresh in our hearts. So did the few Hindi words in my daughter’s mind.
After a few days back at home, when I told her to switch on the fan, she replied quite naturally, “Amma, current nahin.”
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