Talk to Me, Not at Me: What Language Can Teach Us

A recent incident stayed with me — a bank employee in Karnataka lost her cool when a customer insisted, she speak the local language. Her resistance led to outrage for few groups, and eventually, she had to apologize and promised to learn Kannada. Watching this unfold made me uncomfortable. Not because she refused to speak the language, but because of how aggressively people demanded it. It’s not the first such incident. Social media has many similar stories, where people are compelled (sometimes bullied) to speak the local tongue.

I come from a family that deeply respects our mother tongue — every pronunciation is taken seriously. My mother, though Telugu by heritage, studied in Kannada medium in Karnataka, as my grandfather was a tahsildar there. She married my father, who was born and raised in Anantapur and spoke Telugu fluently. He did his master’s at BHU, where college life probably gave him his Hindi. His first bank posting was in the Northeast. When they got married, my mother’s Telugu was broken, but she picked it up gracefully — not out of compulsion, but out of love. Years later, when she was preparing for her Lalitha Sangeetham (Light Music) exams at Andhra Mahila Sabha, inside Osmania University, it was my grandmother who patiently tutored her in writing Telugu. Today, I read and write fluent Telugu because of my grandmother. My brothers would say the same.

My mother is a singer, and she learns by listening — whether it's a new song or a Sanskrit Stotra, she’ll loop it on repeat until it becomes second nature. My father, on the other hand, is a reader — he absorbs information through quiet study and repetition. Everyone has their way of learning. This is especially true when it comes to languages — something we often overlook when expecting others to adapt without considering how they learn best.

Language isn’t just communication. It’s culture. When a language dies, so does its folklore, food names, lullabies, and rituals. That's why I make it a point to speak Telugu with my children. My husband speaks to them in Kannada. Both languages are part of who they are. They already understand and speak both. Writing will come in time.

But here’s the thing — not everyone has the same knack for picking up languages. One of my cousins learned Tamil just by watching comedy scenes and later aced a top-level German exam before moving to Germany. She's now married to a Hindi-speaking guy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she starts writing poems in Hindi soon. Her brother, equally smart, gave up on German midway and now gets by with just the basics. Another younger cousin began learning Bengali — both speaking and writing — as soon as she found out her dad was getting transferred to Kolkata. No one asked her to. She simply wanted to.

And then there’s my oldest cousin’s wife, a Telugu speaker, who picked up Gujarati naturally after marrying my cousin, who was born and raised in Ahmedabad.

Here’s a story close to my heart — a contrast to formal language learning, but just as powerful. Years ago, while my dad was still posted in the North-East, my grandmother and mother learned knitting and crochet tips from an elderly Bengali lady. She spoke only Bengali, while my elders knew just a little Hindi and no Bengali at all. Yet over steaming cups of tea, needles danced, patterns took shape, and laughter filled the gaps. They didn’t speak the same language — not fluently, anyway — but somehow, they understood each other perfectly.

When I visited Italy on a short work trip, I had a similar experience. On my second day, as I waited for the lift, another visitor smiled and greeted me with “Buongiorno.” I replied, “Very good morning to you too.” He gently said, “It’s nice to reply in the same language you were greeted.” The next morning, I greeted him with a cheerful “Buongiorno,” and he returned it with a bigger smile. That’s all it took. One word. One connection.

Learning the local language can open doors, not just in buildings, but in hearts.

Now, a little science — learning a new language isn’t just about fitting in. It’s great for your brain, too. Studies have shown that:

• Bilingual people have better attention spans and task-switching capacities due to better executive functioning.
• Learning a language can delay the onset of dementia and Alzheimer’s — one study found it could delay symptoms by up to 4.5 years.
• It improves memory and problem-solving skills, especially when started young — but benefits remain even if started later in life.
• It enhances empathy, as you become more aware of cultural nuances.

However, let me be clear — I’m not saying everyone must learn the local language the moment they move to a new place. Not everyone can. Certainly not under pressure. Learning under stress often breeds resentment. Instead, how about saying a word or two, gently introducing the local phrases? Inclusion isn’t forced; it’s fostered.

And if you’re the newcomer? Remember, the change starts with you. Even baby steps matter. No one’s asking for mastery — just a little effort, a little openness. When in Rome, say “Buongiorno”. It won’t hurt.

Let’s love our own languages, yes. Let’s teach them to our children. But let’s also make space for others to find their way into ours — at their pace, in their way.

Because ultimately, language is about connection not control.💖