Now, don't ask me why I would call this post 'Everness' - it might kind of tie up in the end, like it does sometimes, when I write without a definite path - more like driving in the dark. You see enough to keep going, but not enough to know where you are going. Everness should mean perpetuity- right? and that kind of represented what I thought of, when I thought of the letter E. A perpetual flow of ideas that begged for my attention. Enigma, Epicure, Energy...the list went on. Finally I thought, what better thing to blog about than the language I blog in? - I know, I know...it is still going to be called 'Everness' but the catch is that I am going to rattle about English, my foster mother tongue.
I learned the English alphabet, long before I did my mother tongue. It was a lovely, large setting, my school - along a railway line. I didn't go to that school long enough to read Shakespeare and Shelly in my middle and high school, but I did go there long enough to fall in love with the letters and words of the language. Right around sixth grade, I smuggled an old diary of my dad and started jotting limericks of sort, taking extra pains and detours in the form of artistic liberties to rhyme. Some of them were okay, some were horrid - but I found a little following in my classroom and was very tempted to write a poem in the algebra paper after reading about Sarajoni Naidu's childhood. Somehow, though my ego was still hazy, unformed and raw, I lived in a belief that I was churning out masterpieces for that short span of time when I actually started to write. It took me some time, to understand and reevaluate my own halo effect that went with me where ever I went. Thankfully, I don't seem to love myself so much that I continued in that haze - or may be, just may be, I love the language more than I love myself and I don't mean it as a hyperbole.
An English speaking nation welcomed me with open arms, at the threshold of adulthood. I always wrote, even before this blog took shape a decade ago. I have pages of words, tumbling all over, tucked into my most precious possessions. "What language do you blog in?" People used to ask me - fooled by my tan skin and ethnic features. It was a miracle of sorts that a small town lass from the middle of nowhere in coastal Andhra Pradesh could actually blog in English. The fact is that for people in India, English is sort of a foster mother tongue - I didn't have English as my medium of instruction for the better part of my humble education - but I consider profusely blessed to have known and loved another language as much as I love myself and my mother tongue.
Everyone has a crux of their life. Mine was my sixth and seventh grade - I had a teacher - a demure Malayalee woman, who defined professionalism to the tee. She taught us bits and pieces of R L Stevenson, O Henry, Anton Chekov and Alexander Dumas and a little bit of unabridged Shakespeare. She inspired me more than anything else in my life all put together. She instilled in me the love for language and literature that doesn't fail me ever! I streamed through my humble challenges, finding solace in the womb of a language that wasn't my own. Today, my biggest defining moment in life is that I teach and subconsciously mimic my teacher, hoping that one day, one kid somewhere, would find the same life long companion in words. "What language do you teach?" People ask me - I say "English" - "As a second language?" I smile and say "No"! - I smile, because, it startles me when I look back - the journey I had made with just those couple of defining years in my whole entire life. The rest, I learned - or may be - the rest came to me, without ever having to set a footstep into a university. I look back and an unmistakable joy and sense of achievement floods my insides - My words, my companions for Everness! :-)
I learned the English alphabet, long before I did my mother tongue. It was a lovely, large setting, my school - along a railway line. I didn't go to that school long enough to read Shakespeare and Shelly in my middle and high school, but I did go there long enough to fall in love with the letters and words of the language. Right around sixth grade, I smuggled an old diary of my dad and started jotting limericks of sort, taking extra pains and detours in the form of artistic liberties to rhyme. Some of them were okay, some were horrid - but I found a little following in my classroom and was very tempted to write a poem in the algebra paper after reading about Sarajoni Naidu's childhood. Somehow, though my ego was still hazy, unformed and raw, I lived in a belief that I was churning out masterpieces for that short span of time when I actually started to write. It took me some time, to understand and reevaluate my own halo effect that went with me where ever I went. Thankfully, I don't seem to love myself so much that I continued in that haze - or may be, just may be, I love the language more than I love myself and I don't mean it as a hyperbole.
An English speaking nation welcomed me with open arms, at the threshold of adulthood. I always wrote, even before this blog took shape a decade ago. I have pages of words, tumbling all over, tucked into my most precious possessions. "What language do you blog in?" People used to ask me - fooled by my tan skin and ethnic features. It was a miracle of sorts that a small town lass from the middle of nowhere in coastal Andhra Pradesh could actually blog in English. The fact is that for people in India, English is sort of a foster mother tongue - I didn't have English as my medium of instruction for the better part of my humble education - but I consider profusely blessed to have known and loved another language as much as I love myself and my mother tongue.
Everyone has a crux of their life. Mine was my sixth and seventh grade - I had a teacher - a demure Malayalee woman, who defined professionalism to the tee. She taught us bits and pieces of R L Stevenson, O Henry, Anton Chekov and Alexander Dumas and a little bit of unabridged Shakespeare. She inspired me more than anything else in my life all put together. She instilled in me the love for language and literature that doesn't fail me ever! I streamed through my humble challenges, finding solace in the womb of a language that wasn't my own. Today, my biggest defining moment in life is that I teach and subconsciously mimic my teacher, hoping that one day, one kid somewhere, would find the same life long companion in words. "What language do you teach?" People ask me - I say "English" - "As a second language?" I smile and say "No"! - I smile, because, it startles me when I look back - the journey I had made with just those couple of defining years in my whole entire life. The rest, I learned - or may be - the rest came to me, without ever having to set a footstep into a university. I look back and an unmistakable joy and sense of achievement floods my insides - My words, my companions for Everness! :-)
