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BROADSIDE
Sound of the sarangi by ABHA ELI PHOBOO
What am I referring to? I am not sure myself. I am perhaps searching for that idea, that unfathomable characteristic which sets apart each written word from the sound of the word itself. As someone who loves writing, I often feel trapped in black and white, in a language that is half mine and half not. It's perhaps a sad truth of my generation -- the 'English-medium-boarding-school generation' -- that we are often better able to express ourselves in English than in Nepali. There has always been a subtle implied perception that Nepali as a language is inferior to English. I remember overhearing a mother scolding her child for not speaking in English way back in middle school. Parents are often proud when their children can flaunt English over Nepali but really, the ability to speak in one language or another is not a mark of intelligence. It's simply an indication of the person's ability to master one language or another. Yes, it is important to learn English or any other language, but it is also important not to undermine Nepali. Take our movies or our songs. We aren't without flaws -- there are quite a few contemporary productions that make you to flinch and squirm in your seat -- but there are also those that defy time and are gems because they are unique. Often, the uniqueness in them leads back to idea of the characteristic essence that makes up the Nepaliness. That quintessence that we should be searching for: like Nyatapola's architecture, Nepathya's songs, like Caravan's characters, or Devkota's chhandas and like the sound of the sarangi. | ||||||||||||||||||||