Language matters.

A STORY that went viral recently was of a little boy whose teacher marked his face with a black dot. The other children were then asked to shame him. Where did the child go wrong? He had spoken in Urdu in a supposedly English-medium school. It was shocking and I felt the pain the child must have felt when he was so humiliated. This was no less than a cardinal sin that was committed against the child, against our national language and against all those children who were made to participate in this hate game.

On another occasion, I felt proud of my friend's daughter who told me the story of her nine-year-old girl who on returning to Pakistan was admitted to an 'English-medium school'. Having been born in the US, she spoke perfect English with an American accent. Her Urdu was also perfect as at home her parents always communicated in their native language. The class teacher was impressed by the child's English and appointed her as the monitor. The mother asked her daughter what her duties were in that capacity. 'I will have to inform the teacher if any child speaks in Urdu in school,' she said innocently. The mother was flabbergasted and immediately withdrew all three of her children from the school. 'I will never send my children to a school that nurtures such linguistic biases and teaches my children to hate their own language,' she told me angrily.

Against this backdrop it was a pleasure to attend the Urdu Tadrees [pedagogy] Conference organised by the Pakistan Tanzeem-i-Asatiza Barai-i-Tadrees-i-Urdu. One listened to the speakers, each of them highlighting the Urdu language's forte and the wealth its literature offered. As one speaker pointed out, no mention of Urdu literature is complete without a mention of the inimitable Annie Apa's Aag ka Darya.

Then I was reminded of my youngest friend, eight-year-old Sitara, from Kheiro Dero who declares me to be her best friend 'in the whole world' (she said with her arms wide open). When Sitara joined the Urdu-medium school in her village, Urdu was not music to her ears. She had to struggle with her lessons because the language was alien to her. The only language she understood was Sindhi. The teachers, Sindhi speakers themselves, were not helpful either and dubbed her a slow learner. One day, Sitara rebelled and refused to go to school. Everyone was angry with her as she had candidly declared that she didn't want to study.

A child should begin schooling in her own language.

I understood Sitara's...

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