I want to get things started by looking at the relationship between spoken and written forms of Tamil, which I think is the most important thing for learners to bear in mind even before they begin their studies. I hope it will also illustrate my previous point about the importance of how we think about learning languages.
When I was about to begin learning Tamil I was fortunate enough to read an enlightening chapter in a book called Linguistic Culture and Language Policy, by Harold Schiffman, emeritus professor at the University of Pennsylvania’s Department of South Asian Studies. I’m only going to give a brief summary of the main points, but I would definitely recommend that other aspiring Tamil students read the full text.
The chapter focuses on Tamil diglossia. Diglossia refers to a situation in which one language community uses two (usually closely related) dialects or languages. In linguistics these are often referred to as the H (or ‘high’) variety and the L (or ‘low’) variety, and are used in quite different ways. The H-variety is more formal, conservative and prestigious, and is found in spheres of life such as education, literature, public speech and religion. The L-variety is used in spheres such as everyday conversation and, in the case of Tamil, TV and cinema. The L-variety is learnt at home, while the H-variety is taught later in life. (This is a very simple explanation of a complex phenomenon, and in reality the boundaries between the two varieties often blur and move.)
Several writers have discussed diglossia in Tamil, but Schiffman is particularly interested in the way Tamils think about their language. He writes that Tamils hold very strong beliefs about the uniqueness, purity, uniformity and antiquity of Tamil, but these are reserved for the H-variety. The L-variety is ignored, disparaged or considered not to be ‘proper’ or ‘real’ Tamil.
From this point onwards I’ll refer to the two varieties of Tamil as ‘spoken Tamil’ (peeccu tamiL, பேச்சு தமிழ்) and ‘written Tamil’ (eLuttu tamiL, எழுத்து தமிழ்). This is slightly misleading, because written Tamil is also spoken, but in everyday conversation people differentiate the two varieties using these terms.
The differences between spoken and written Tamil are expressed in grammar, vocabulary and even pronunciation. Of course, it could be argued that English is similarly composed of different varieties or registers. But the question of whether English and Tamil are different in kind or degree doesn’t change the main point, which is that Tamil diglossia has a huge impact on foreign learners.
According to Schiffman, Tamils experience mixed feelings of delight and discomfort upon hearing Tamil spoken by a foreigner, and will usually respond in written Tamil or another language such as English. This means that students of Tamil often get a shock when they try to speak spoken Tamil for the first time. Schiffman writes:
‘As one foreigner who has spent some 30 years trying to master the language, I would say the main barriers to learning Tamil are sociolinguistic, not structural (i.e. internal linguistic) reasons.’
I have experienced similar reactions, although not to the same degree (which could be down to differences in place and/or time). From my own experience, I want to highlight three other practical consequences which emerge from Tamil diglossia:
1. When you ask for a translation of an English word or phrase you will often receive the written rather than the spoken version
At the beginning of my Tamil studies I asked some friends to translate a simple dialogue I had written. I remember being surprised by the amount of time they spent discussing it, but I now realise that they were working out the correct written Tamil translation.
This is a regular problem, and it’s compounded by the fact that English-Tamil dictionaries can be unhelpful for spoken Tamil vocabulary (see below), which means I have relied almost entirely on other people for translations. Without being fluent in Tamil it’s impossible to judge what I’m receiving, so I try to circumvent my lack of knowledge by constantly emphasising that I want to learn spoken rather than written Tamil. I also have to ignore comments to the effect that the difference between spoken Tamil and written Tamil isn’t really that significant and thus not worth worrying about.
Despite this, many things still slip through. I have discovered that compliments about my ‘pure Tamil’ (sutta Tamil, சுத்த தமிழ்) are often a sign that I have been using formal, literary words or phrases. Recently I learnt that a couple of my regular words are not used by many of my friends in everyday speech. While I have been using vaLamaiyaaka (வழமையாக) for ‘usually’, my friends say neDukilum (நெடுகிலும்). Similarly, when I want to say ‘really?’ or ‘are you sure?’ I have been using niccaiyamaaka (நிச்சையமாக) in place of unmaiyaana (உண்மையான) or sattiyaaka (சத்தியமாக).
2. It’s difficult to find a teacher for spoken Tamil
Although Tamil kids regularly go to Tamil class, in Sri Lanka and India as well as in other parts of the world, these classes aren’t designed for those learning Tamil as a second language. Tamil kids learn spoken Tamil at home as their first language before studying written Tamil at school. This means that written Tamil is taught through the medium of spoken Tamil, to children who already know a very similar variety: it’s more like an ‘upgrade’ than an entirely new language. Without disparaging their teaching skills, Tamil teachers will most likely have little idea of the kind of problems faced by English-speakers, never mind any materials for spoken Tamil.
Dedicated spoken Tamil teaching for English-speakers does exist, although it’s hard to find. There are a few Tamil courses at American universities and across Europe. I don’t know what kind of Tamil they teach, but if you do please let us know! The only Tamil course I know of in London is at SOAS, and seems to focus on written Tamil. Many people study spoken Tamil in Madurai, but for Sri Lanka I’m only aware of Michael Meyler’s spoken Tamil course.
Before committing to a course I suggest discussing its content and aims with the teacher. If she or he denies that there are any real differences between spoken and written, or says that you should focus on written at the expense of spoken, this may cause you trouble in the long run.
3. Dictionaries often focus on written Tamil
The complex relationship between spoken and written Tamil is also reflected in language materials available to learners. I hope to discuss this at greater depth in future posts, but for now I want to look specifically at dictionaries.
In Jaffna I am regularly asked two questions: ‘Have you eaten?’ and ‘Are you married?’ In Jaffna the regular word for food is saappaaDu (சாப்பாடு), while eat is saappiDu (சாப்பிடு) and marriage/wedding is kaliyaaNam (கலியாணம்). However, you would have some difficulty in finding these words in an English-Tamil dictionary, as demonstrated by the latest editions of two major publications available in Jaffna bookshops:
Mega Lifco Dictionary
- food: uNavu உணவு, aakaaram ஆகாரம்
- eat: (1) take food uNNu உண்ணு; (2) consume, masticate, bite or chew and swallow as food saappiDu சாப்பிடு
- marriage: tirumaNam திருமணம், vivaaham விவாஹம்,
- wedding: tirumaNam திருமணம், vivaaham விவாஹம், kalyaaNam கல்யாணம்
Universal Deluxe Dictionary
- food: (that which is eaten to keep oneself alive) uNavu உணவு
- eat: (1) take food to the mouth and swallow uN உண்; (2) take any solid to the mouth and swallow saappiDu சாப்பிடு
- marriage: (lawful union of a man and woman) tirumaNam திருமணம்
- wedding: (marriage ceremony) tirumaNac caDangku திருமணச் சடங்கு
SaappaaDu doesn’t make it into either dictionary, and saapiDu is distinguished from uNNu in a vague way that doesn’t represent actual Jaffna usage. KaliyaaNam (wedding) doesn’t make it into the Universal Deluxe, and although it appears in the Mega Lifco – under wedding, but not marriage – it’s lumped with tirumaNam (written Tamil) and vivaaham (I think this is a colloquial form in Tamil Nadu) without any indication as to how it is used. Additionally, in the Lifco it is spelt slightly differently than its Jaffna Tamil pronunciation: kalyaaNam rather than kaliyaaNam.
The hefty Oxford English-English-Tamil dictionary is similarly unhelpful, but for a slightly different reason: it’s pitched at Tamil-speakers learning English and focuses on explaining English meaning and usage. However, it clearly assumes that its Tamil readers will use written Tamil when talking about food or marriages!
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I want to finish by emphasising that none of the above is intended as a criticism of native Tamil speakers. The problem is that Tamils experience the situation very differently to learners coming in from the outside. Simply put, if Tamil learners don’t struggle against the privileging of written over spoken Tamil, they will find it very difficult to master the everyday language. And isn’t that the reason why we’re learning Tamil?
What do you think? Have you experienced these difficulties, and do you have any suggestions for overcoming them?
Uraiyaadal | உரையாடல் 