Columnists
"I Have An Accent?"
by I.J. SINGH
Let me start with two very simple events.
A professionally educated, stylish, chic, ultramodern and prosperous Sikh woman was so elated with a Sikh speaker at a conference that she couldn't hold back her accolades. She approached him, and paid him what she thought was a most handsome compliment.
"Your speech was marvelous", she said, "because you spoke in such a neutral accent".
From her total absence of any reference to the contents, I felt that the speaker could have just as well read the phone book in his immaculate "neutral" accent.
The next incident left me even more aghast.
A substantially endowed Sikh organization wanted to honor a non-Sikh for services rendered to Sikh art and culture. They had two candidates in mind. One was based in North America, the other in the United Kingdom. Each appeared equally adept and qualified.
My recommendation was that since the Sikh organization was North American, perhaps the American candidate should be the honoree this year. Why? Because we might want to develop a closer, more fruitful and accessible relationship with this U.S.-based person; her local availability rendered her more useful. We would be better off nurturing further connections with a person who might be more valuable to us, since we share the same country and culture. By recognizing and encouraging her we would foster a local, more accessible friend.
Surely, one could dismiss my logic and counsel at many levels, but, I believe, not by the rationale that was presented to me.
The argument for the London-based professional was simple: She speaks with such a captivating British accent. And of course, she does.
My mind immediately went to the classic movie, My Fair Lady, in which the irascible Professor Henry Higgins tries desperately to tutor a spirited Eliza Doolittle, ultimately curing her of her Cockney accent and her uneducated usage of English, finally turning her into a chic society dame.
And, of course, my thoughts went to the fact that any immigrant who comes here would have an accent; sometimes it would be polished Etonian British, at other times it would be recognizably, palpably and awkwardly alien.
Accents merely indicate the circumstances in which one was raised or schooled. And that is often an accident of birth or of economic situation. It has little to do with intelligence or competence.
Accents vary widely even within the same country, sometimes even in the same family. Just tune in to the very different accents of President George Bush and his father, George H.W. Bush. Jack Kennedy's speaking pattern was worlds apart from that of Bill Clinton, yet both are remembered as charismatic, riveting speakers; Barack Obama's accent is perhaps the most neutral of the current crop of politicians.
I look at Henry Kissinger, perhaps one of the most respected persons to hold the office of Secretary of State in the 20th century. His accent is so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Yet, he was heard all over the world, and still commands respect for his opinions. (I add that I have often disagreed with his worldview on balancing geopolitical power, but not because of his accent.)
Some years ago, I used to delight in trying to pinpoint, from their regional American accent, the part of the country in which people had been raised. Many times, I guessed correctly. Now I think television has wiped out much of the variety in how people speak and more and more people come across like TV announcers.
In the smorgasbord of immigrant cultures in the United States, one can easily spot the antecedents of a new arrival by the accents, gestures, expressions and choice of words: Punjabi, East European or Latin, for example, from the innumerable possibilities that exist.
Years ago, I tried to reassure my listeners that certainly I have an accent which will probably never be entirely erased, no matter how long I live here. But my children, if I have any, will not be strangers here because of their accent; their accents will brand them as strangers in India, if they ever visit there.
I often add, somewhat with a barb, that I might speak with an accent but I sure hoped that I didn't think with one.
An accent is like the clothes we wear. Yes, clothes do make the man (and the woman too), but not entirely. The substance can be cloaked and hidden but not redefined and reinvented by the suit alone. That's why there are so many empty suits walking about. Are these the ones whose life "is measured by coffee spoons", as T.S. Eliot observed? And is mine then measured by Lipton, Brooke-Bond or Tetley tea bags? Ah, make mine Decaf!
Accents are easily cured by taking the right lessons; values are not so easily imbibed.
What matters more is not what accent, but direction, goals and level of satisfaction define a life. And they must come from the sense of santokh. It is a measure of a life. Says Guru Granth: In the platter of life are three inseparably intertwined, complementary and interacting delectables for us to partake and explore: Truth (Sat), Contentment (Santokh) and Reasoning (Vicchar). Make them your own. Let them form a stable tripod for your life.
Guru Nanak pointedly reminds us that inner hunger is not sated and the inner void not filled by possessions: Bhukia(n) bhukh na(n) utree jay banna(n) puria(n) paar.
Yes, some speak with voices that sound lyrical, but their world could be empty, their goal merely to impress. Yet, the sand in the hourglass of their life continues to run. They have a void within that no one and nothing seems able to fill.
How, then, to fill that emptiness of life?
By a mindset that makes room for grace and sates us with a comfortable sense of self.
June 7, 2008
Conversation about this article
1: Ravinder Singh (Columbus, Ohio, U.S.A.), June 08, 2008, 7:34 PM.
I think that in many ways we continue to be impressed with things English. Our Anglophilia is a hangover from the days of the Raj, I guess. I remember a classmate surprising us with an "American" accent - acquired overnight. We found out that his father was on an official trip to Washington, so the fellow felt obliged to impress us with the accent. I recall Nirad Chaudahri, who was the epitome of a Brown Sahib: he went for his "daily constitutional" dressed in a suit, a sola topee and an umbrella in Delhi's Kashmiri Gate area where he lived. Sat, Santokh and Vichar can become the ground of our lives (as you suggest) only if we reflect and transmit the proper ends of life to our children. Rare is the parent who insists that Gurmat be the compass of our lives - above all else. We are too busy shedding our Indian accents and acquiring American (or English) ones!