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She grew up speaking a language that had special words for pickled lime peels and clotted rice morsels. It was rich, lusty, pungent and full-bodied. Her teachers taught her to love it. It was the language of Gods, they told her. She secretly believed it was the language they made love in.
So when there came a time for her pack her bags and follow her husband to a new land, she wrapped her mother tongue in a tiny velvet pouch and took it with her. But there, where they spoke in a floating, mild tongue, her sumptuous syllables suffered. Over the years, her edges started to wear thin and her little velvet pouch waned. Some days, she even forgot words in her native tongue. But at nights, when her head slumped on the pillow, she wept tears of sorrow. And they were always in the language of Gods.
9 comments:
wow! i think this is the best you've ever written so far...
cheers!
ramya
wonderful write! beautifully written....
Your way of writing expresses the romance you experience in writing and food... :)
Brilliant!
Loved it :) You must have heard it enough by now, but what the heck.. You write really well!
I dont have anything to say that hasnt already been said by the previous three... so I'll content myself with "VERY NICE"! :)
Ammani,
Superb!!!. Exceptional Writing. You use the right words and expression to expresses how one feels. You make the person feel what he reads....only few writers can do so..
Keep writing!!
Take Care
AF
Almost everything in our life is prone and welcome to change. Mother tongue is the one thing that never does. It makes you feel that you belong and that feeling alone is worth fighting to retain your language.
Very nice post. Giving a face to one's mother tongue is about as good as it gets. Unless you outdo it yourself :)
i would say it rather depends on the individual whether or not he/she wants a change inher life
yes i miss speaking tamil
So nice and so true
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