International Mother Language Day

Till last week, I had no idea that there is something like an International Mother Language Day and the fact that it had something to do with my mother tongue. UN had declared February 21st as the International Mothers Language Day in the early 90's in honor of the language movement that took place on February 21st of 1952 in Dhaka, Bangladesh, then East Pakistan. Facing the threat that Urdu will replace Bangla (English ethnonym Bengali) as the official and only language of the land, the college students protested and sacrificed their lives to defend the honor of their mother tongue. The sacrifices and the blood shed that took place on that day planted the seed for Bangladesh's eventual independence from Pakistan in 1971.

[It is worth noting here that UN proclaimed 2008 as the International Year of Languages. See the proclamation here.]

Today, I'm even more proud that I said my first words in Bengali. I am proud that I predominantly express my joy, sorrow and feelings in Bengali. Even though I can and do dream in English, I find more comfort in my mother tongue. So, when I got a call from one of my Bangladeshi friends in West Memphis to participate in a cultural program in honor of the language martyrs, I gladly accepted the invitation. It gave me immense pleasure to be able to partake in a special celebration of language.

The function started with a recitation from the Holy Quran followed by a passage from the Bhagavad Gita. It was befitting given the religious makeup of the two Bengal.

I recited Achintya Kumar Sengupta's Poob-Paschim (East-West) which I think is very appropriate for this occasion. During India's independence in 1947, Bengal was partioned by imperial forces into West Bengal (now a state in India) and East Bengal (also known as East Pakistan and now Bangladesh) and, over time, the diction and dream of the people from these two parts drifted apart. The poem reminds the reader that the Bangla language remains the common thread, the invisible glue that binds the people from these two countries. The poem reminds that our rivers carry the same water, our trees provide the same shade, our history and geography are one, our prayers are same, our enemy is common but, most importantly, our language is the same. We are the creator of the invisible friendship band, reflection of each others' souls. Despite the external differences, our feelings are the same, our language is the same. We are one.

You can listen to the recitation of Poob-Paschim recited by Kazi Sabyasachi, son of a famous Bengali poet Kazi Nazrul Islam (who coincidentally has been referenced in this poem.)