The linguistic situation in coastal Karnataka is a complex and highly interesting one. Many, if not most people in that region are not Kannada
mother-tongue speakers but have a different home language (Tulu, Malayalam, Konkani); furthermore, the dialects of spoken Kannada in that region
(Havyaka, Kundapura Kannada, etc.) deviate considerably from the modern
literary norm. In this complex linguistic environment, Kannada is the language
in common (esp. written) use. Tulu is used colloquially in southwestern Karnataka, but is not standardized and is hardly used for written purposes. To
some extent, Kannada in coastal Karnataka can be compared to standard German in Switzerland. Kannada is consciously learnt in school rather than at
home, and this explains why the written Kannada from that region is very precise and cultivated; for that same reason, it is sometimes unfairly considered
‘stiff’ and ‘lifeless’ by Kannada speakers from other parts of the speech area.
Learning a language from a different language family is an intellectual adventure. While learning the language, one learns a new way
of analysing one’s experiences and coding them into a communicable
form. One also learns to re-think many things that until then seemed
self-evident, natural and universal, while in fact they are not so at all.
Because Kannada has been cultivated as a literary language for at least
seventeen centuries, it has had the time to reach a very high level of
standardization, precision and subtlety. Still today, it is one of the leading literary languages of India. The most prestigious national literary
award, the Jnanpith Award, has until recently been won by more Kannada authors than by authors in any other language, and more often
than by authors who write in a language with a comparable number of
speakers. For its literary and historical richness, Kannada has been recognized as a ‘classical language’ by the Government of India in 2008.
For the sake of convenience and better readability, the present author is not
following the fashionable dictates of ‘political correctness’ and is not writing
‘he or she’, ‘s/he’, ‘his or her’, or confusingly alternating ‘he’ and ‘she’. Instead,
I am following the time-honoured custom of referring to the generic, unknown,
anonymous, de-personalized, faceless reader and learner who has no individual
identity as ‘he’. If any reader thinks that I am thereby implying that only male
readers should learn Kannada, then that reader is an idiot, and idiots should
not be learning exotic languages and reading this book in the first place.
Other languages from which Kannada has borrowed words are Persian, Arabic, Portuguese, Dutch and, especially in most recent times,
English. Whereas the reasons for some borrowings from English are
quite understand able, there is an unfortunate tendency among young
people and would-be fashionable urban folk to pollute their language
with totally unnecessary English words. Especially when these words
are pronounced inaccurately (as often happens), they do not improve
the clarity and quality of communication. Educated Kannada speakers
disapprove of this fashion, and the learner is advised to do the same.
ನನ ೆ Ěೕರು ೇಕು nanage nīru bēku
can have any meaning ranging from ‘I need water’ (because otherwise
my health will fail me due to dehydration) to ‘I would like some water’
(because my mouth is dry and I will able to speak more easily if I have
had a sip of water, or because I wish to wash away a bad taste from
my mouth). Usually the context will make it clear to the listener or
reader what is meant. Kannada has words that are more precise (such
as ಬಯಸು bayasu ‘to desire’, ಇċªಸು icchisu ‘to wish’, ಅವಶ½
Students should never forget that
speakers, in any language, usually are not interested in com municating
raving nonsense.
Especially in conversation, many elements of Kannada sentences
can be omitted where in a Western language such as English or German this would be considered utterly impossible.
