Mumbai has always been a bustling city, a place where migrants come to hustle for a living. Both my maternal and paternal grandfathers arrived here in the Maximum City to build their big dreams in the early 1940s. Senior Rai and Shetty, in their heyday, boarded steamer boats from Mangalore in coastal Karnataka to Bombay. Now, as the third generation, I speak Marathi not out of compulsion, but with comfort. Moreover, the local dialect of Hindi is dubbed ‘Bambaiya’, as it seamlessly incorporates bits of Marathi and Gujarati. Some may call it broken or improperly spoken, but when you live in a city of migrants, you know it is simply fluid.&nbsp;Over the years, fruit vendors from North India have comfortably adopted calling watermelon ‘kalingad’ (which is Marathi), despite knowing very well that it is called ‘tarbooj’ back home in the Hindi heartland. But why am I delving into the nuances of language? Because force may not be the best way to encourage its adoption. Are we all speaking Tulu or Konkani in coastal Karnataka? Many don't even know the former is a language, you mean Telugu, some enquire, unaware it is a distinct language. So, pushing for mandatory compliance might be stretching it a bit too far—or maybe not.&nbsp;When I mention Tulu, many ask if I mean Telugu, unaware it is a distinct language.&nbsp;Every time you travel to a new place, you try to pick up local words; it's perhaps human or just a way to belong. Whether it is ‘namaskar’, ‘namaskara’, or ‘namaste’, if it feels natural, you will comfortably speak it. No auto or taxi driver has ever refused to be instructed in Marathi; even if he isn't proficient in responding, he follows the directions to a T. So, who is our target audience here? The ones who outright reject the language - then it's all going in the right direction.&nbsp;Also read: <a href="https://www.wionews.com/india-news/unofficial-auto-strike-hits-mumbai-over-marathi-mandate-cm-fadnavis-calms-panic-1787661056561">Unofficial auto strike hits Mumbai over Marathi Mandate; CM Fadnavis calms panic</a><h3>Learn basics of the language in said time…</h3>&nbsp;On August 20, the Maharashtra Transport Department launched an initiative for auto and taxi drivers ferrying passengers across the city to learn the language. Over two days, RTO officials issued formal notices to 2,767 commercial passenger vehicle drivers across Maharashtra for lacking basic Marathi proficiency.&nbsp;&nbsp;Meanwhile, Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis stated, “We are not trying to make our Hindi-speaking brothers experts in the Marathi language, but they should have a working knowledge of the language.”&nbsp;He assured, “Efforts are being made to help them learn the language. The deadline to learn the language has been extended three times now. Our Mahayuti government will not allow injustice based on language." But not all students are the same; not everybody learns at the same pace. A gentle nudge to adopt the language would not have harmed, as not everybody handles examination pressure the same way.<h2>My acquaintance with Marathi</h2>&nbsp;I have been singing Marathi songs since I was a toddler, and guess who taught me those, my Telugu-speaking neighbour, whom I call ‘ajji'. I practised my Marathi with Kanubai, our vegetable vendor, and so did my mother, not because we feared anyone would test our proficiency, but out of a genuine zest to learn. Some words are tricky; you roll your tongue incorrectly, it immediately gives away that you're not a native speaker. Though my father speaks like a true native, I am nowhere near his level. But over the years, Mumbai has heard a variety of accents, yet she has accepted each as her own.&nbsp;&nbsp;Here, everyone savours vada pav, dabeli, and masala dosa; mind you, none except the first originate from this region. We watch plays in Marathi, Hindi, and English and still have an appetite for more.&nbsp;&nbsp;As the deadline nears, auto drivers have been attending these language classes; they are seen repeating after the teacher. From directions to basic communication, trust me, auto drivers have more to share. It almost seems as though they have navigation apps for breakfast, operating seamlessly sans them. Are they the only non-Marathi speakers who need these classes, or are others exempt? Can more notices be expected? A standardised test may not be the perfect yardstick to gauge fluency.&nbsp;(Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.)&nbsp;

A reflection on Mumbai’s cultural fluidity, ancestral roots, and why forcing Marathi proficiency on auto and cab drivers may seemingly undermine organic integration.

Mumbai has always been a bustling city, a place where migrants come to hustle for a living. Both my maternal and paternal grandfathers arrived here in the Maximum City to build their big dreams in the early 1940s. Senior Rai and Shetty, in their heyday, boarded steamer boats from Mangalore in coastal Karnataka to Bombay. Now, as the third generation, I speak Marathi not out of compulsion, but with comfort. Moreover, the local dialect of Hindi is dubbed ‘Bambaiya’, as it seamlessly incorporates bits of Marathi and Gujarati. Some may call it broken or improperly spoken, but when you live in a city of migrants, you know it is simply fluid. Over the years, fruit vendors from North India have comfortably adopted calling watermelon ‘kalingad’ (which is Marathi), despite knowing very well that it is called ‘tarbooj’ back home in the Hindi heartland. But why am I delving into the nuances of language? Because force may not be the best way to encourage its adoption. Are we all speaking Tulu or Konkani in coastal Karnataka? Many don't even know the former is a language, you mean Telugu, some enquire, unaware it is a distinct language. So, pushing for mandatory compliance might be stretching it a bit too far—or maybe not. When I mention Tulu, many ask if I mean Telugu, unaware it is a distinct language. Every time you travel to a new place, you try to pick up local words; it's perhaps human or just a way to belong. Whether it is ‘namaskar’, ‘namaskara’, or ‘namaste’, if it feels natural, you will comfortably speak it. No auto or taxi driver has ever refused to be instructed in Marathi; even if he isn't proficient in responding, he follows the directions to a T. So, who is our target audience here? The ones who outright reject the language - then it's all going in the right direction. Also read: Unofficial auto strike hits Mumbai over Marathi Mandate; CM Fadnavis calms panic Learn basics of the language in said time… On August 20, the Maharashtra Transport Department launched an initiative for auto and taxi drivers ferrying passengers across the city to learn the language. Over two days, RTO officials issued formal notices to 2,767 commercial passenger vehicle drivers across Maharashtra for lacking basic Marathi proficiency. Meanwhile, Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis stated, “We are not trying to make our Hindi-speaking brothers experts in the Marathi language, but they should have a working knowledge of the language.” He assured, “Efforts are being made to help them learn the language. The deadline to learn the language has been extended three times now. Our Mahayuti government will not allow injustice based on language." But not all students are the same; not everybody learns at the same pace. A gentle nudge to adopt the language would not have harmed, as not everybody handles examination pressure the same way. My acquaintance with Marathi I have been singing Marathi songs since I was a toddler, and guess who taught me those, my Telugu-speaking neighbour, whom I call ‘ajji'. I practised my Marathi with Kanubai, our vegetable vendor, and so did my mother, not because we feared anyone would test our proficiency, but out of a genuine zest to learn. Some words are tricky; you roll your tongue incorrectly, it immediately gives away that you're not a native speaker. Though my father speaks like a true native, I am nowhere near his level. But over the years, Mumbai has heard a variety of accents, yet she has accepted each as her own. Here, everyone savours vada pav, dabeli, and masala dosa; mind you, none except the first originate from this region. We watch plays in Marathi, Hindi, and English and still have an appetite for more. As the deadline nears, auto drivers have been attending these language classes; they are seen repeating after the teacher. From directions to basic communication, trust me, auto drivers have more to share. It almost seems as though they have navigation apps for breakfast, operating seamlessly sans them. Are they the only non-Marathi speakers who need these classes, or are others exempt? Can more notices be expected? A standardised test may not be the perfect yardstick to gauge fluency. (Disclaimer: The views of the writer do not represent the views of WION or ZMCL. Nor does WION or ZMCL endorse the views of the writer.)

A reflection on Mumbai’s cultural fluidity, ancestral roots, and why forcing Marathi proficiency on auto and cab drivers may seemingly undermine organic integration.

Mumbai language mandate: How city of migrants learned Marathi through genuine zest, not tests

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Mumbai language mandate: How city of migrants learned Marathi through genuine zest, not tests