Beyond the Language Barrier

As I sat in Terminal 2 of Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose International Airport in Calcutta, waiting to board the 14-hour flight back to New York, I reflected on my trip to India and how different it was to the other 13 trips to the country where my father grew up: This trip marked the first time that grandfather invited me to accompany him to spend the day at Calcutta Social Project (CSP). The experience was not only an opportunity to bond with my grandpa, but also a lesson in human connections and interactions. 

CSP is a non-profit organization that prioritizes and helps vulnerable, uneducated or abandoned children and women. It provides them shelter, home basic care and an education. My grandfather, who continues to live in Calcutta, has been volunteering at CSP for many years now. In fact, during our family Zoom calls, I would often hear the chorus group that he helps mentor. However, I did not know much about the organization, and certainly had not considered the possibility of volunteering for them. So, when my grandfather asked if I wanted to join him, I was nervous, but I said yes: I wanted to connect with him, and CSP was clearly an important part of his life.   

Driving to the CSP shelter, the only thought going through my head was the fact that I might not speak Bengali, the local language. With the exception of my brother and me, everyone in my family is multilingual, and in addition to English, they are  fully conversant in Hindi and Bengali. I was reminded of family reunions, where I’ve tended to hide in a corner of the room, thinking about my inability to converse with my own family in either of those languages. Even though I have such a rich connection with the country where both my parents are from, I never had the opportunity to learn the native languages, which made me feel insecure and self-conscious every time we visited India. 

Now, I was about to meet a lot of kids my age. I was panicking, wondering what language they spoke and how I could possibly connect with a group of strangers with a major linguistic barrier. Did they speak English? What would I even say to them? 

Entering the shelter, located in a low-income neighborhood in Calcutta, I was greeted by the head of the organization, Mohuna. She greeted me with a perfect “Hello, how are you Neev?” in English, and immediately my confidence went up. After we introduced ourselves, Mohuna took me upstairs to the girls’ classroom and dormitories, where I was met with a unanimous “Hello Neev-Dada” by every single girl in the room. (Dada means big brother, a slang term used in India.) At that point, I was beaming with relief, but also excitement!

After visiting the girls center, I went to meet the boys, where I was welcomed with the same joy and affection. After I introduced myself, we ended up talking in English about sports. Not only did this bring me further joy for being able to converse in English, but the boys seemed to love soccer as well. I realized that I had been panicking over nothing: through our love of sports, we were able to connect regardless of language. 

As I moved into the next room, a large hall, some younger children were squatting on the floor enthusiastically getting ready for a test. Mohuna explained that this group of children were part of the Shikshya initiative, an online platform that was started during COVID to help less fortunate children with educational losses due to the pandemic. Today these children were gathered for their social studies test. They, too, were excited to see a new person, and eagerly asked questions about me. 

After leaving the shelter, the only emotion that I could feel was genuine joy. I was so scared of my inability to speak a Bengali dialect that I forgot of the possibility that they might speak English. On the car ride back, I realized that human interaction isn’t limited by the fear of the language barrier, and in this case, the kids at the CSP showed me that while I didn’t speak Bengali, human connections can sometimes overcome these challenges.