English. Hindi. and mother tongue.

sometimes, suddenly i must open a book in Hindi and read a sentence. randomly. “bhari bus mein yeh hua tha…” any sentence- poetry, prose, play, essay, anything would do as long as it’s in Hindi. “…ki naad aur shabd ke abhaav ke bavjood, sampoorna nistabdhta mein bhi rangmanch bol sakta hai.” because all said and done, English is career, conversations, coherence…but Hindi? Hindi is the soil where my roots get nourishment. Hindi is soul, solace, sorrow. “prem karne/ aur pustak padhne mein/ koi antar nahi hota/”

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