'Soul' and Consciousness in a Language-less world

I began my journey of language with Hindi, my mother tongue. I guess I became quite good with it (if appreciations are a measure of that). I used to write poetry in Hindi, I used to think in Hindi. And then English came along. In the wake of the 'competitive' English dominant world outside, I was taught to speak, write and think in English. It was difficult initially, but gradually thoughts came along unabated, getting manifested in words that grew more and more ornate with time and effort. Then came the time when I perhaps stopped thinking in Hindi. A friend of mine, upon hearing this, told rather disdainfully, " तुमने अंग्रेज़ी को अपनी आत्मा बेच दी है (You have sold your soul to English)". It was disturbing. Nevertheless, I continued writing 'soulless' poetry in Hindi, for poetry never came out in English. I continued fighting with words to churn out poetry (शब्दों से लड़ लड़ कर कविता लिखती रही). But, yes the poetry was soulless.
And then this question occurred to me, "where is my soul"?
It is definitely not with English, for I still struggle to express myself coherently when I talk in English. I do think in English most of the times, though, and formulate arguments, discuss 'issues'. Majority of my readings are in English. Most of my writings (including this) are in English. But, everytime I hear my favourite Hindi song, my heart skips a beat. Everytime I read a poem by Mahadevi Verma, I am carried to a distant world, from where I do not wish to come back. Everytime I watch the outburst of OmPuri in the climax of 'Aakrosh' and the stoic expression of Smita Patil in 'Bhumika', I forget every English movie I ever watched.
My soul might be wandering in a language-less world, my heart still lies in Hindi.

Journey....my experiments with life!

I really find this stint of mine with 'education' (studying development in Manchester) perhaps the most engaging and enriching one since my school life. School life is still much more closer to heart, owing to the fact that I made wonderful friends, met remarkable individuals in the form of teachers and in its true essence started the process of self-discovery...not ignoring the fact that I was in the cossetted abode of my family. So, in short, there was love everywhere.

My first encounter with 'hatred' and 'harsh reality', as I understand these terms today and what makes all the previous notions I had about them seem so benign, was when I entered NIFT. I do not want to paint it all in black and white, for surely everything was in varying shades of grey and a spectrum of several other colours. But, the most important contribution that my stay at NIFT made to my life and my journey was to toughen me and prepare me for challenges to come. It not only made me test my patience and stretch my capacity to endure pain beyond any known limits, in this process it also gave me an undeterred, endearing optimism, undying faith in goodness that I carry with me every moment.

Work, I admit, seemed much easier than I expected after surviving and not 'succumbing' to NIFT. And of course, work, unlike NIFT, was a much more informed and conscious choice, the first of its kind. So no doubt it was extremely satisfying, enlightening, sobering at the same time. Thanks to NIFT, the greys seemed much less daunting and there was a realization that this learning would never stop, come what may. I gradually started to enjoy this 'answerlessness' till it struck me that I was not moving anymore...neither a step further nor a step back...neither exploring nor reflecting. The awareness of the fact that one might never reach an answer seemed to start rusting my consciousness and perhaps my soul (whatever that is). I knew I had to overcome this inertia. There was no way out.

And now I am here. Studying again. The answerlessness remains. In fact it is somewhat celebrated here. But, this place has given me a chisel to critique this answerlessness from all sides. And something rather strange happened that I did not expect. These chiseled edges of my 'answerlessness' started hurting me. The one definite thing that my life till now had  taught me, the lesson of the inevitability of answerlessness, does not seem to let me be at peace with myself anymore. There is restlessness and there is contradiction. Isn't the very purpose of knowledge to arrive at answers. The improbability of finding answers does not mean that the purpose is lost. When did we give up on knowledge? When did we meekly submit to the fact that since finding answers is not feasible, the most convenient option remains to understand, critique and stop at that juncture? Losing or abandoning the very intention of finding answers, and thereafter covering this cowardice or failure in the garb of a higher intellectual and academic pursuit seems to me the sheer arrogance of knowledge and nothing else.

I feel an imminent need to smoothen the edges with answers, hypotheses, solutions. And I am ready for criticism, I am ready to take up the chisel again and again, endlessly if needed, while smoothening again and again, till I reach a core....if there is any. And if there isn't, it will at least be a shape I will be proud of.