There was a time when all thoughts, dreams and arguments in a Mising household ran in Mising. It was the language of lullabies, laughter of ordinary life, a tune as that of the river which flows through the land of Mising. But as the years went by, languages like Assamese, Hindi, and English started intruding into our classrooms, offices and even our homes. Children started responding to their elders in Assamese; songs that were being sung in Mising were recreated in Hindi. Something was taking its time, but it was apparently not only the words we spoke, but possibly, the manner in which we think. So, a question emerges: “Do we think less in Mising now?” It is no mere heart-wrenching concern. The contemporary studies tell us that language and thought are closely connected with each other. All languages are prisms – prisms through which we view time, space, emotion and even memory.
To a bilingual, the ability to alternate the language is not only a social activity, but also a psychological exercise. Every switch requires consideration, choice and management. So, when we are not using Mising as much, are we not thinking in it either? Let’s take a closer inspection not out of nostalgia, but through the perspective of the mind on how the mind switches between two or more languages. Suppose, we are at a crossroad and there is a track, one of which is labelled Mising, and the other Assamese. Your brain has to choose your course of action every time you talk. This is not automatic, it is a mental act of control. Psychologists refer to this process as language switching, which is the capability to select the appropriate language and at the appropriate time. This occurs in two general ways:
1. When someone external makes you use a language such as a teacher asking you to say a word in Assamese, it is cued switching.
2. Voluntary switching, on the contrary is when you make the choice yourself when a Mising word simply will be better in the middle of an Assamese sentence.
Both ways are different from each other but both involves thinking. Cued switches are like following a rulebook, you stop, you read over, you do. Voluntary switches are more of a dance and you swing to whichever beat is appropriate. In cases of people switching freely, it has been studied that it tends to be quicker and less mentally straining. It is the liberty that lets a person to actively keep alive both the languages in their mind.
Two Places Two Realities: Jorhat and Tinsukia.
To see how this works out to the Mising speakers, we considered two districts of Assam-Jorhat and Tinsukia. Both of these places are home to the Mising people, but their language narrative is different from each other. In Jorhat, the Assamese language is prevalent in public spheres like schools and offices and market places. Mising is not usually used in outside settings, but with elders or at other cultural events. In Tinsukia, the photograph is more colourful. Mising mixes with Assamese, Hindi and even Adi in the markets, schools and villages. There is an easy flow between languages and even within one sentence.
A recent cognitive experiment contrasted speakers of these two locations where a simple picture naming task was used, to check the reaction times (Reaction time is the time taken by a person to react to anything after it occurs or appears. To put it simply, it’s the time between visual or auditory stimuli and behavioural responses) taken by the participants to switch languages. They were shown images and were required to name them at times in Mising, and at times in Assamese. An audio cue instructed them on what language to speak in particular rounds (cued switching), or they selected it themselves (voluntary switching). A further question was underlying this sportive venture: “Given an option, how readily can we think of Mising?”
What the Mind Revealed
The findings were a very intriguing image of the way in which language use and thought are connected.
1. Mising still shares space and lives in the mind: The majority of participants spoke Mising more quickly than Assamese when instructed which language to use, while naming the pictures. That’s encouraging since it indicates that Mising is still near the forefront of their mind. However, both languages’ reaction times were nearly comparable when students had a choice. Assamese had become an equal partner in their mental realm, and it seemed as though Mising no longer governed alone. In Mising, do they think less? Not precisely. They even now think in it, but not only in it.
2. Thinking is easier in freedom: However, interestingly, when the names of the pictures were left to be named by the participants themselves, they happened to name them faster than when asked to do so. That is, voluntary switching was much easier than forced switching. The brain is fond of liberty. It does best when it is allowed to select the word that comes faster to the mind. Consider your everyday speech: When you speak, you say, “Ajir dinner kene ase?” (How’s today’s dinner?) or “Fieldot jabi?” (Shall we go to the field?) you not intending every switch. You are doing what feels natural. Apparently, that instinct is not confusion it’s efficiency.
3. Place shapes the mind: The place of residence was a factor. People in Tinsukia, swapped more quickly and more easily. It appeared that their brains were trained to juggle multiple languages. Jorhat people, who were in a more Assamese dominated world, found it harder and slower to switch, particularly to go back to Assamese. In less technical language, the more we merge languages in real life the less difficult our brains process it. Solitude hardens the tongue and communication makes it flexible.
4. Mixing Isn’t messy. It’s smart: In the experiment, the participants were more likely to perform better than when they were restricted in the use of one language, whereas they were able to mix languages freely. That is referred to as a mixing benefit. Or perhaps, our everyday practice of mixing Mising and Assamese is not an indication of decay it is an indication of adjustment. The bilingual brain is flexible. What could be perceived as mixing could actually be “thinking intelligent” and not “foolish thinking”.
The Greater Question: What will happen when a language fades?
This all leads us to the very point of the matter. When Mising is gradually being driven out of schools, places of work and even inner minds, what will go on in our heads? There is more than words being lost when a language is weakened. We lose a mode of organizing experience: the metaphor of rivers and fields, the terms of kinship which bear narratives, the rhythms of salutation which are conditioned by seasons and ditties. Mising not only occupies vocabulary, but worldviews, patterns of attention, retention and relating. We do not simply change languages when we think less in Mising, we also change lenses. The world appears somewhat different in Assamese or Hindi or English. Not all things work out when translated and hence some things translate and others don’t.
The research revealed that a freer choice of Mising made people speak and think more fluently. The more we make places of liberty like classrooms, songs, games and conversations, in which Mising can lovingly evolve, the more alive it remains in our thoughts. We have to strike a balance between all other languages together with Mising. If we encourage children to read stories, solve issues and let them dream in Mising, if we let festivals be multilingual, not monolingual, if we let people switch languages with laughter and not with a feeling of guilt, only then Mising will remain in our tongue and mind. And as long as it remains in our minds it continues to influence how we perceive the world.
In the end, then, do we think less in Mising now? Maybe yes, but it is not due to the fact that we have forgotten it. It is because our worlds have become larger and our minds now have more than a single voice. This is not a question of silencing one against the other. It is to be alive to both, to think in Assamese when it feels right, to dream in Mising when it suits and to allow our bilingual minds to play freely between the two. Since in any switch, voluntary or otherwise, we betray the richness of who we are, people that are capable of thinking, feeling, and being in more than one language.
References
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