Klingon imposition

In the interests of equality, it needs to be one which all Indians can speak with an equal lack of fluency and equally poor pronunciations — which rules out pretty much any Indian language

The recent statement from the home minister regarding the desirability of Hindi as a link language for all of India has resulted in all the usual, predictable reactions. People in the Hindi-speaking states are perplexed by the resistance to the idea from the South. People in the South are up in arms, raising their voices against what they see as an assault on diversity and regional identity.

Sadly, none of them seem to have identified the real problem with this idea, which is the prospect of millions of South Indians suddenly criss-crossing the nation, gleefully conversing in Hindi using accents reminiscent of G. Ramli in that famous “Yek Gaon Mein Yek Kisaan Raghuthaatha” scene from the K. Bhagyaraj classic, Indru Poi Naalai Vaa. I think Mr. Amit Shah, normally a brilliant strategist, has overlooked this potentially catastrophic fallout of his suggestion — a scenario even he couldn’t possibly enjoy. In fact, if the Tamil Nadu government is considering sending a delegation to New Delhi to argue against Hindi imposition, I volunteer my services, and that of some of my friends and family. After a few minutes of listening to us speak in Hindi, the home minister would undoubtedly agree to quickly roll back his ambitious plans, and simply allow us to continue using English, in order to spare innocent people in the Northern states the same ordeal.

However, there is no doubt that India requires a common language so that people from different parts of the country can talk to each other about the weather, rising petrol prices, Venkatesh Iyer’s backswing, and so on.

The question is, what would be the language best suited for this goal? In the interests of equality, it needs to be one which all Indians can speak with an equal lack of fluency and equally poor pronunciations — which rules out pretty much any Indian language. English is also ruled out as an option because it can easily be understood by our foreign foes, making it impossible, for instance, for External Affairs minister Dr. S. Jaishanker and Foreign Secretary Harsh Vardhan Shringla to cheerfully make fun of the hairstyles of assorted visiting dignitaries right in front of them.

Even though this seems like a tricky problem, I believe there is an obvious solution — Klingon. I can hear many of you immediately objecting, stating that a constructed language from the Star Trek universe spoken primarily by a fictional alien race is hardly a substitute for Hindi, but I say hold that thought until you hear me out. There are several immediately apparent advantages to it.

Because Klingon is only around 37 years old, it is unlikely to arouse the passions of those who normally oppose the imposition of an already prevalent language in some regions over others. Even M.K. Stalin or K.T. Rama Rao may beam and say “buy’ ngop (That’s great news)” if the BJP government were to suggest that everybody learn Klingon instead of Hindi. The prospect of being able to converse with Lt. Commander Worf in his native tongue would surely be equally thrilling to T.M. Krishna, Uma Bharti and Babul Supriyo — one of the very few things that would delight all three. Imagine how awe-inspiring it would be, if the Prime Minister would, when addressing the nation from the ramparts of the Red Fort, mightily proclaim “bISeH’eghlaH’be’chugh latlh Dara’laH’be” (If you cannot control yourself, you cannot command others), to thunderous applause and cheers of “HISlaH” from adoring crowds. It would truly be a scene worthy of the united India that our beloved government is working so hard to create.

And to those who will use language to try and divide us, the entire country could, in one united voice, respond with the classic Klingon insult “HaB SoSlI’ Quch!” (Your mother has a smooth forehead).

Anand Ramachandran is a Chennai-based writer and game designer who likes playing games with his writing.