I grew up speaking English. Not exactly a groundbreaking origin story, but there’s a twist: my grandfather was determined to turn me into a linguistic genius, or at least into someone who could survive a conversation without embarrassing the family. His master plan? Exposing me to English TV shows, books, and the occasional journal entry (his own, of course). He saw potential in me, or maybe he just needed someone to understand his strange obsession with the TV show ‘Mind Your Language’. Either way, I became his sidekick in this mission.
Now, let’s talk about ‘Mind Your Language’. If you’ve never heard of it, just imagine a group of adult students trying—and often failing—to learn English in the most absurd ways possible. Naturally, my grandfather loved it. Why? Because he used to be a teacher in the 1960s, so I guess the show hit a nostalgic nerve. He must have seen some part of his old classroom in there—minus the slapstick humour and awkward misunderstandings.
Of course, he insisted I watch ‘Mind Your Language’ with him. Not just to entertain me, but because it was “educational” (sure). But it wasn’t just about the English, it was about sharing something important to him. And I have to admit, even though I started watching to humour him, I grew to love the show, too. Especially Ali, the character who somehow manages to be completely oblivious to everything happening around him, except, of course, when his wife might be cheating on him. Now that, woke him up.
In one episode, Mr. Brown, the poor English teacher tasked with corralling this chaotic bunch, ends up following Ali back to his house. What ensues is Ali becoming Sherlock Holmes, well, as much as Ali could be Sherlock Holmes because he suspects his wife is up to something sneaky. Suddenly, the bumbling fool I’d come to know gets a little sharp, and Mr. Brown’s day of teaching takes a very unexpected turn. The whole scene had me laughing so hard I almost missed my grandpa’s chuckle of approval. He loved that I was finally into his show.
My grandfather and I have always been close. I think it’s partly because I’m the eldest grandchild and that comes with certain perks; like being the chosen one for secret missions to the grocery store or getting first dibs on his stories from “the good old days.” He’d even let me read his journals. He calls himself “The Outsider” in these entries, which is either mysterious or dramatic, depending on how you look at it. I’ll give him points for creativity.
But honestly, he saw potential in me, and I think that’s why he invested so much time. The hours spent watching old sitcoms together, reading his musings on life, or just sitting quietly while he wrote, those were moments that shaped me. At first, I went along with it to make him happy. But after a while, I found myself looking forward to our time together. I learned to appreciate the shows and stories he shared, not because they were fun or funny, but because they were a part of him.
So yeah, thanks to my grandpa, I didn’t just grow up speaking English. I grew up knowing it, loving it, and maybe (just maybe) becoming a bit of Tata. All while laughing at a slightly outdated but absolutely hilarious TV show. That’s how he roped me into the world of language and maybe even a little bit into his own world, too.
By Ms. Preshsennaa Genesan