Marathi's Karachi mission

Dilip Puranik (right) with son Swapnil who runs a private coaching institute for students of competitive exams. The Puraniks have couriered prizes for winners of language-based singing-speech contests held online

Dilip Puranik, 68, may have spent the last two decades in career counselling and allied motivational talks across Maharashtra. But, the last few months of his retired life are too dissimilar in scope and scale. The senior citizen has been humbled by the confidence vested in him by 500-odd Karachi-based Marathi families he hasn't ever met in person. These Marathi households not just keenly want to learn Marathi, but also revive their ties with a lost culture.

"I never thought I could become the go-to person for queries like ‘What is a Jogwa?' and ‘How many days do Maharashtrians devote to post-death rites?' I am trying my best to satisfy their curiosity," says Puranik, who is currently providing virtual online guidance for the first-ever public Marathi Language Day celebration in Karachi's Ganesh Math Mandir. Maharashtra celebrates the day on February 27, but it will be a day later in Karachi because of the weekly off convenience.

Seated in front of a computer screen at his residence in Khawali, a village 13 km away from Satara, Puranik has streamlined the itinerary for the game day in Karachi - either accent-coaching a lavani singer, correcting an intonation of a stand-up recital, or vetting the welcome remarks of Vishal Rajput of Karachi's Shri Maharashtra Punchayat. Puranik and his son Swapnil, who runs a private online coaching institute for students of competitive exams, have couriered prizes, mostly books, for the winners of language-based singing-speech contests held online. The videographed performances will be soon assessed by the Puraniks, so that winners are honoured on D-day.

Children of the Jadhav family from Karachi join their parents in the online class started by their newly-gained Puranik Ajoba Aaji from Maharashtra

In a series of regular online meetings, extended phone conversations and WhatsApp chats, the Puraniks, wife Madhuri included, have taken on a dual responsibility - first, to monitor the flowchart for the Marathi Language Day in Karachi; second, to repair-prepare the Marathi speaking skills required for the day, and if possible, a lifetime.

Puranik's Karachi connection evolved over a period of time, mainly due to his deep abiding academic interest in Maharashtrians settled outside India, particularly in far off destinations like Uganda, Fiji, Suriname and, of course, Pakistan. Right from his Bhusaval-Nagpur childhood years, defined by abject poverty and limited means of a lower-middle class family, Puranik retained the passion for reading about strange lands and unknown people. At 11, he had an anthology under his belt; he later attempted law after graduation, but couldn't complete the term and ended up working as a life insurance agent. While LIC didn't agree with his constitution, neither did several other odd jobs he did later. He tasted stability only in his 50s as a motivational speaker while counselling students from KG to PG. But, even as he found his niche in career guidance, his search for Maharashtrians settled abroad - in as many as 40 countries - continued. Out of sheer curiosity, he would drop emails to the Maharashtra Mandals in Australia or say hello to a Marathi household in Dubai or dial up Dawn newspaper in Islamabad about a reporter with Marathi origins. In one such self-driven search operation, he was attracted to Shri Maharashtra Punchayat of Karachi.

A radio interview of the Punchayat's ambassador Vishal Rajput opened several doors for Puranik. "After I had gotten hold of one youth, Rajput, 35, the channels of communication were unhindered. He helped in reaching out to 200-odd families. Most importantly, he believes in my voluntary project of teaching Marathi for the sake of it," says Puranik, who is now Mamaji to Rajput. Not just Rajput's mother, but several elderly women, like 75-year-old Parvatibai Gaikwad who plans to sing a lavani on the Marathi day, have become Puranik's "sisters".

An online class in session along with Vishal Rajput, who facilitated Puranik's connection with 200-odd families

These relations would have seemed impossible six months ago. Like most neighbourhoods in Pakistan, the Marathi conglomerations are cautious about establishing bonds with Indians. They don't want to be perceived as active agents in a political-cultural movement. As Rajput confirms, people don't share addresses and biographical details (however, innocent may be the query) easily, because they fear being misconstrued, especially in the wake of palpable tension on the Indo-Pak border. Likewise, caution is being exercised on this side of the border, too. When attempts were made to reunite the Tambes of Pimpri with the Gaikwads of Karachi, the former did not reciprocate well. In fact, many Pimpri-Chinchwad families don't want to talk about their Pakistan roots, Puranik informed.

In that context, the heterogenous mix in Puranik's class is commendable. Marathi has become a conversation starter for people who live and think differently. Interestingly, Urdu, Hindi and English have become bridges to reach the Marathi land. Puraniks are in consultation with history professors, linguists, editors, syllabus advisors who can provide a formal structure to the online gappa. The idea is to get the vyakaran right initially, by encouraging students to speak without embarassment. As Hema Prakash Jadhav, who joins the online class with her school-going daughter Mitali, observes: "It's a rewarding feeling to hear a language, which I had lost touch with. It is like retrieving a treasure that you didn't know existed in a basement chest."

While videocalls and web-based chats are viable platforms for Mission #hargharmarathi, the beginning is going to be slow, and not magical. This columnist was witness to the gradual alphabet learning of the class marked by an odd and variable student composition. Since "life takes over" throughout the week, weekend evenings are left for grasping an unfamiliar lingo. Student availability varies in each Zoom meeting but, so does the age, gender, professional background and academic orientation. For instance, Devanand Sandekar and wife Savita speak in Hindi; they are "happy about the Marathi homework to be done after every class" since they have a long way to go before they can utter idioms. But, Vinod Jadhav has a greater hold over Marathi because he is learning each word phonetically. He also writes the word in Urdu scrpit, so that he memorises the connect. There are some students who rely on popular songs (Mendichya paaanavar), and Ganpati aartis to negotiate their learning route.

While students are using novel ways to approach the lost language, one is happy that the Marathi class aims for more than mere deadline-oriented conversation fluency. The class has not turned into a narrow parochial chest-thumping linguistic platform. It discourages discussion on bilateral politics, or minority-versus-majority rants, and even deliberations on purely religious or faith-based matters. Instead, it has become a porous multilayered exchange exercise, which welcomes people of different hues; accommodating few students from outside Pakistan, too.

But, the Karachi classmates stand out for a specific reason - their (Kambles, Jadhavs, Naiks, Kharats, Goswamis) identification as Marathi/Maratha people, undivided by caste and sub-caste. In contemporary Maharashtra, Maratha is a loaded word. It means the warrior caste, but further characterised by sub-divisions like Shehanaukuli or Kunbi. It is not the overarching umbrella term (Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, Maratha, Dravid, Utkal, Banga) referenced in our national anthem. For Karachi Maharashtrians, who want to learn about Shivaji Maharaj and Mahatma Phule alike, Maratha is not a caste-based identity. That is one healthy definition Maharashtrians (on the Indian side) can learn from.

Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a culture columnist in search of the sub-text. You can reach her at sumedha.raikar@mid-day.com