Always Coming Back

Tamil is known as the oldest language in the world, one that over 80 million people speak worldwide. I grew up listening and speaking Tamil in many ways. Whenever we traveled by car, whether it was a five minute ride to drop me off to violin class or the six hour rides to Reno, my dad always played Tamil music to accompany us and still does to this day. Tamil was the only way I could communicate with my grandparents and all of the extended family that lived in India, so I had to learn it. I went to Tamil school on Sundays for what felt like forever but was probably only a few hours long. The classes every week would drive my parents crazier than me, trying to teach me the difference between the very similar looking Tamil characters. I did eventually quit since I didn’t like missing soccer games on the weekend and I absolutely hated going. 

Funnily enough, as the oldest language in the world, Tamil doesn’t have a translation for the word “good-bye”, just like some other Indian languages. What we say instead is போயிட்டு வரேன், pronounced “poittu varen”. It directly translates to “I’ll go and come back.” This is a cultural custom that only exists in Tamil Nadu. Even people in Kerala, which is less than 400 kilometers away, don’t have the same tradition. Rather than saying goodbye, you tell the person you are leaving that you will go and come back. It means much more than its direct translation; it’s a promise to stay in touch and an assurance that you will be back. Leaving isn’t the end. Honestly, when I was younger I didn’t think much of this phrase. In fact, if I accidentally said “poren” or simply “I am going”, my grandma would scold me and tell me that I have to say it the proper way. Just saying “I am going” is commonly known as a bad omen that suggests that you are never coming back. However, just like everything, especially chemistry, it has an exception; whenever you go to a funeral, you must never say “poittu varen” because that implies that you want to come back to their homes for a death, rather than to visit them. When I was trying to find the Tamil character translation, I came across a children’s book that uses this phrase as its title, which can be seen below. The plot is about the girl and her grandmother’s beautiful bond that is made after the American girl feels out of place in India.

If I’m being honest, this phrase is very reassuring and comforting; it tells me that I always have a place to go back to and forever will; no matter what. It carries a sort of trust that can’t be broken. It’s something I can rely on and shows that I am never alone. I never really noticed it, but Tamil as a language has its poetic moments, and as hard as it is to read and write it, it’s still a beautiful language.