Ode to My Mother Tongue: Why Telugu is My First Love Even If I Think in English
- My connection to and love for Telugu aren't enough to prove its superiority. My claims however are about how melodic it sounds.
After living in the U.S. for over 25 years, I may have started thinking in English, but my love for my mother tongue Telugu has remained intact. English is effortless to speak, rolls off your tongue easily, and the fact that it is the de facto language in so many world countries made it my choice of communication today, but deep in my heart, I have this admiration for the language I began my life with. Today, I want to prove to people who judge me based on my appearance or clothes that my Telugu roots run deep.
Growing up in Vijayawada, a vibrant city nestled on the banks of the Krishna River, instilled a deep love for Telugu in me. The dialect spoken here is considered the standard for media and education, likely due to its clarity in diction and pronunciation. As the birthplace of renowned writers like Viswanatha Satyanarayana, whose works enriched Telugu literature, my hometown is a prominent hub for the language’s cultural heritage.
My connection to and love for Telugu aren’t enough to prove its superiority. My claims however are about how melodic it sounds (often hailed as Italian of the East for most of its vowel-ending words), how structured and logical it is, and definitely no hidden agenda, ahem silent letters. So let’s see if I can sell my story.
Mostly Dravidian in origin but heavily influenced by Sanskrit (more than its other South Indian cousins, anyway), Telugu boasts a rich vocabulary. Unlike English with its poor sound to symbol correspondence, Telugu is highly phonetic, which means it is pronounced the way it is written, no other possible ways of pronunciations exist.
Telugu is so easy to learn as there are no exceptions. Isn’t that a great alternative to the gut-put, to-go, cough-tough randomness of English and other non-phonetic languages? Try this if you are not convinced yet, there are no silent letters and no variations in spelling.
Although I started writing this to talk about my love for my mother tongue, I want to acknowledge that embracing Telugu’s richness does not mean we can undermine other languages for their strengths.
Telugu is also comprehensive in that most sounds exist in its alphabet of 56 compared to Tamil’s 30. It is also non-redundant — one symbol, one sound (I hate how C and S overlap sometimes, as do G and J in English). Telugu’s alphabetic system called varnamala (garland of letters) is highly structured and organized by sound production.
It starts with 18 vowels, short and long, taking the guesswork away that English often requires. The 36 consonants are grouped by the point of contact in your mouth, starting from the throat and ending with lips.
Ka, kha, ga, gha – back of the mouth/in the throat
Cha, ccha, ja, jha – palate/roof of the mouth
Ta, tha, da, dha – tongue curled back and hit against the middle part of the roof
Tha, ttha, da, ddha – tongue against your front teeth
Pa, pha, ba, bha – lips closing together
Other consonants are arranged randomly but they are all there (ya, ra, la, va, sa, sha, ksha..), overall still logical. Telugu grammar (vyakaranamu), used in both prose and poetry, is almost like a science – it brings structure to the language, making it ripe for literary usage and expression. Just like English, Telugu prose has parts of speech (noun, verb, adjective) and figures of speech (alankaras) such as metaphors, hyperboles, and idioms.
Telugu’s gender system has a distinct category for males, while females are grouped with animals and objects in the ‘non-masculine’ category (I agree there is room for improvement). English is better that way, it has a separate category for objects, which works well, but languages like Spanish and Hindi can get tricky – they assign masculine or feminine genders to objects (it may take a lifetime for me to learn).
Vibhaktulu (case suffixes such as to, with in English), Sandhulu (fusion of two words often altering the sounds at the join), samasaalu (compound words from two words), and my favorite — prakruti/vikruti. Prakruti comprises words borrowed from Sanskrit and often used without alteration, especially in formal literary works. Vikruti, with alterations, is more easy to pronounce and colloquial (American kids may appreciate this). What I appreciate is that Telugu grammar has given a place for such alterations as well.
Grammar in Telugu poetry (chandassu) is definitely a science, with strict rules and formulas — similar to haiku, but much tougher to write and fun to read in my opinion. There are rules around number of letters, what order you can arrange laghuvu (light/short) and guruvu (heavy/long) syllables, and rhythms of different kinds based on placement, all to be followed in addition to conveying the meaning.
With such structure and rules, you can expect some serious feats in literature. Satakamu (hundred) is one such feat where a single poet writes a hundred poems, following the rules of grammar and usually a single theme. I remember learning quite a few, especially the moral ones.
Avadhanam is even more challenging – the performer responds to eight scholars’ requests, crafting poetic responses for each, often with tough constraints like forbidden letters or specific word inclusions. It is meant to showcase the performer’s memory, focus, and intellect — a true test of poetic genius.
Imperialism, politics, and economic power have propelled English and Western languages to prominence, but they also have strengths compared to some ethnic languages like Telugu. I switch to English more often even when talking to other Telugu speakers because of how easily it rolls off your tongue, no tongue twisting needed. Speaking Telugu is like performing oral acrobatics, and don’t even get me started on the script, it’s like lining up pretzels.
English often gets the message across quickly with fewer words and it is certainly flexible with less rigid rules (other than the occasional COZ-I-SAID-SO from the Queen). Adaptation of words from other languages and cultures is definitely a plus — I was surprised that Americans knew about the concept of Karma. In addition, English is easy to type on phones and computers, I cannot imagine having to do that with my Telugu pretzels.
Although I started writing this to talk about my love for my mother tongue, I want to acknowledge that embracing Telugu’s richness does not mean we can undermine other languages for their strengths. After all, it is about connection and communication, not competition. You may like the flavors in your biriyani, but burgers are convenient at times.
Padma Nadella is an IT professional who lives in Eagan, Minnesota, with her husband and 19-year-old son. She manages a Facebook group for Minnesotans to collaborate on events and activities related to health and fitness. The group now has over two thousand members. Jill of all trades, she enjoys playing volleyball, traveling the world, and entertaining, mostly, but dabbles in everything else.