The language barrier sometimes bother me. I feel that I shouldn’t write about this in English, or I shouldn’t write something on that in Bengali. It seems that a few topics are embedded with certain language. For instance, I can never describe the joy of Christmas and the warmth of fireplace in Bengali, nor can I write about the days I spend during Durga puja in english. The recent fusion culture does help me often to embed topics with certain languages, but I cannot write such at ease, I will cover that up with time I think.
I never felt any special attachment with the childhood asphalt and grass of my hometown. Now, standing at the edge of childhood, preparing for the upcoming manhood, I feel different. The soil under the green grass attract me, the street dogs make friends with me, the birds call my name, the trees beside the asphalt road bind me to them, and I hear my bicycle crying for my company. All these, I don’t know, if I have expressed correctly; because few things belong to some certain language. I cannot explain the beauty of the sodium vapor lamp that shines at night on the lamp post beside my school, I need my mother tounge for that. I cannot explain the emotion that come with science in my mother tounge, I need English for that.
Assertion chooses it’s language for me most of the time.
