Aheli Moitra
Languages have always found a soft spot in me. As a child, we were given access to the world of English and Hindi. Arabic was taught to us as a third language, painstakingly mastered with its beautiful lettering and right-to-left script. Alas, over the years, we remained illiterate in our own mother tongue; we knew how to speak but not read or write the difficult script.
As we grew up, French came as a revelation with its inverted conjugation and awkward pronunciation. The language, with all its uppity demands, was conquered with additional classes.
Nepali, being closer home, was easier to learn and was picked up without much ado. Though only a rudimentary form of it was learnt, the realisation struck home that the sweetness of the Nepali language made all other languages border the post of impolite conversation.
A few more random languages later, came Nagamese. My world of classification and conjugation fell apart. Here was a language that needed no formal learning of any kind. It laid itself out for visitors and insiders alike. One did not have to be literate to speak in, or understand, Nagamese. The several divisions of rich or poor, outsider or insider, tribe to tribe or race to race did not exist for Nagamese—one could mould it in their own way and make it their own.
Not just the Nagas (in all of their territories), but all of their neighbours understand and speak Nagamese. When faced with neighbouring communities, Naga ancestors came up with their own form of communication, instead of bringing an existing language (of which there were plenty) into play. Today it is accepted almost everywhere in this side of the east. It is a manifestation of the Naga’s experience with modernity. What a gift it has been for a region lesser known for contemporary common denominators.
It can take the form a speaker wants to give it—a grandmother in a village or a pastor in a church can use the same tool without being classified in the hierarchies of class, or even talk to each other without the tribulations of tribe. Its quick and adaptive form allows it the space to keep up with the anarchic Naga polity—shifting, adapting, beyond control and hegemony.
Through this, the Nagas in the east have been able to communicate with those in the west despite the steep lack of good education. Women in villages of varied dialects have been able to set up seed banks after understanding each others’ crops. People have been enabled to speak to their health practitioner, understand sermons at churches, enjoy Mithanielie’s pop music, create a film industry and access the rudimentary governance that exists.
This goodness can, and must, be shared. The idea should not be to tame and classify Nagamese but to open it up for usage, without prejudice, to everyone in the north-east of the region and beyond. It may not be a Naga language per se, but it is an invention of the Naga people. It does nothing to that insight to call Nagamese a foreign amalgamation. While another “original language” is being developed, Nagamese can continue to spread the joy in our collective lives.
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