My son had a college assignment a few weeks back, to interview his relatives in his Mother tongue, and then write a reflective, informal essay on his experience and connection with it. As someone whose work involves a lot of intensity around culture, appreciation, and cultural appropriation, I was very touched at Ash’s effort to interview me and my mum, submit the recordings and document the below essay. As a keepsake, and as an acknowledgement for our contribution to the community, here is Ash’s essay, in his own words… Published on my blog with his permission.
My Saga With Konkani
Akshay ‘Ash’ K
I’m from Mangalore, and one of the languages spoken in Mangalore is Konkani. Konkani is the key to unlocking my cultural identity and is the basis for which my family is so closely knit. This essay is about how my mother tongue shapes my family’s identity.
Konkani is a lot more than a means of communication for me. It’s like a time machine that sends me back to the days of Mangalore that my grandparents used to live in. It’s a compilation of all the recipe books, stories and music as a reflection of the language.
Konkani carries the experiences and emotions of all my ancestors, the finger-licking foods we die for, even the songs that somehow bring every single Mangalorean family together.
When we converse in Konkani, there’s a story behind every phrase, let alone a word.
Born and raised in Dubai, I was exposed to several languages, but English has always been my primary and comforting language. I spoke English everywhere and to everyone, even at home with my family. However, Konkani always felt like my true home.
My paternal family is from Bangalore, and they speak Kannada. Whenever I hear someone speaking Kannada, I recognise the language, but don’t really understand the conversation. However, when I hear people speak in Konkani, I am pleasantly surprised and find it easy to connect and build a rapport with them.
I have many memories passed down by my grandparents in Konkani. These stories act as a bridge between me and my roots, even when I believed I had absolutely no connection to them.
Throughout my schooling years, I learned Spanish, French and Arabic but none that I felt more inclined to than Konkani. It’s almost like I feel a sense of belonging to Konkani even though I have never “learned” the language. As a matter of fact, understanding a bit of Konkani actually made it easier for me to grasp bits and pieces of other languages like Kannada.
Imagine wearing your same comfortable clothes at home every day, like my regular T-shirt and shorts, then trying out a completely different style of clothing and actually, surprisingly, liking it.
That’s like English and Konkani for me. That’s the role Konkani plays in my life. When I speak Konkani, or at least try to, I feel accepted into a part of something bigger and welcomed without any shame.
At family events and gatherings, Konkani evokes deep binding. We joke, share and relive memories, sing songs in Konkani, and even play games. Like ice breaking activities, this feels like an ice breaking language of sorts.
I’ve witnessed Konkani being used as an instrument to reconnect and revive distant and lost connections, be it family or non-family members. This feeling of intimacy that Konkani creates, no matter the distance, allows us to maintain strong bonds, and lay a strong foundation for relationships. It’s like carrying a piece of home with us, wherever we go.
In a world that’s getting more complex by the second, preserving our traditions becomes incredibly important and so for Mangalorean descendants, and especially the diaspora of my generation, Konkani plays an essential role. To reiterate, Konkani is like a hidden room in a house that safeguards our recipes, stories, songs, and books that would otherwise go extinct.
As I reflect on my experiences with Konkani, from when I did not know a single word of the language beyond ‘Mujhe nav Akshay‘ and ‘Maka vudak zai.’, to the present where I’m still not a fluent speaker but can understand most conversations, I am in awe of how the language mirrors the idea of Mangalore itself.
The way I see it, Konkani holds a testament to the power of language itself through its words, sounds, dialects, rhythmic lilt, and script that possibly transcends time and space. The language intrinsically carries the intangible essence of my entire community. The spoken and written words invoke the vibrant world of my culture, family and the very essence of who I am.
Konkani is more than just a language passed on. To me, it’s an entity, sound, smell, taste and sight all in one. The language has a life and network of its own. Knowing it, is almost like subscribing to a YouTube channel or following someone on Instagram and finding out you know so many people within the same community. It’s like a thread that not only connects me to my past, but also helps me navigate my future and discover pathways that I never knew existed.
Konkani and I are an ongoing saga – one that I am humbly honored to be a part of. With every spoken word, story shared, and connection made, I’m reminded, with much humility, the immense impact of the language – my mother tongue – on my sense of self.
Bangalore
August 2023
Akshay is a student at St. Joseph’s University, Bangalore, and can be reached on LinkedIn
Luvena's World 
I too am very proud of being able to understand and speak my mother tongue, Konhani. Although my education and brought up in Bombay, the full credit goes yo both my parents who actually taught us how to speak Konkani. My grandparents would love to talk to talk us four siblings, my two elder sister’s, myself and my younger brother in Konkani. They would really appreciate the way we spoke Konkani so fluently although we were studying in a English Convent and church schools.
I love my mother tongue, Konkani and am very proud of its rich heritage.
So true, Kristel! I know so many of us who grew up in Kuwait who didn’t know / still don’t know how to speak in Konkani… Everytime we visited my dad’s family they would always appreciate our being able to communicate with everyone in Mangalore in Konkani with our own native fluency, despite being NRIs I love Konkani too and it feels so good to be a part of the community.
There is a certain covalent bond between the mother tongue and the soul. I was walking down the Sydney seafront some years ago, with a Kannadiga friend, trying to locate an address. I said to him in Kannada ” This is the 2nd Block and maybe the 5th is some distance away”. A passerby replied in Kannada ” innu swalpa doora hogi ide raste alli sigathe” – Walk some more and you will find it in this street itself.. I didn’t know the man from Adam, but the mother tongue was music in a foreign land, and my heart sang. His warm smile reflected the same sentiment and I could sense his heart sang too.
I agree with all your thoughts about how the mother tongue and the nuances associated with it, can make you emotional.