Language Learning

Living in India, working with European teams, and reading world literature, I juggle 3-5 languages everyday.

Native / Bilingual: English (C2+), Hindi, Odia (mothertongue)
Limited Working: French (B1), Spanish (B1), Urdu
Elementary: German (A1), Japanese (N4), Latin, Gujarati, Marathi, Punjabi, Bengali

While English and Hindi are “sufficient” for my everyday interactions, I’ve keep discovering moments of intense joy in exploring other languages.

I build relationships faster and deeper

Strangers light up when I address them in their native tongue. They open up faster, are more empathetic, and stay in touch long after the initial transactional interaction.
When they see me make an effort, they become more patient, more attentive to cultural misunderstandings, and more aware of the subtle ways language shapes our thoughts and feelings.

My brain is more agile.

Switching between languages is mental gymnastics with spillover effects. I got better at context-switching, focusing attention, and filtering out irrelevant information.

My thinking has more dimensions and nuance.

I “am 30 years old” in English, but I “have 30 years” in Spanish. This fluidity between “being” and “having” opens up a new dimension to how I philosophically approach growing up.
By thinking about problems in different languages, I find myself naturally considering multiple angles, and adapting more quickly when my initial approach doesn’t work.

I see through new cultural lenses.

Through Spanish, I discovered the beauty of “sobremesa,” that unhurried time spent conversing after meals that values human connection over productivity.
Japanese introduced me to “wabi-sabi,” the appreciation of imperfection and impermanence.

I manage ambiguity better.

Languages rarely have perfect word-for-word translations—meaning often exists in the spaces between words, in cultural context, in tone and implication.
Learning to navigate these ambiguous territories has made me more comfortable with unclear situations, more skilled at reading between the lines in communication, and more accepting of multiple valid interpretations.
This tolerance for ambiguity has proven invaluable in complex professional situations and in navigating cross-cultural relationships.

I’m more confident after embracing imperfection.

Language learning demands comfort with making mistakes—countless mistakes. In public. Every day. Over and over again.
Early conversations in my target languages were filled with errors, awkward pauses, and misunderstandings, yet I persisted through this vulnerability.
This willingness to be imperfect made me more willing to try new skills, speak up in difficult conversations, and take calculated risks.

I feed my need for achievement, while eating humble pie.

Unlike many goals that provide only fleeting happiness once achieved, language learning offers continuous moments of pride and accomplishment—from the first successful conversation to understanding jokes, dreams, or literature in the target language.
And since these incremental victories come after multiple cycles of failing every day, they rarely let me soar high for long. The next stumble is just a day away.

I have a deeper relationship with my mother tongue.

I now notice linguistic features I previously took for granted—the etymology of familiar words, the logic (or sometimes illogic) of grammatical structures, the cultural assumptions embedded in common expressions.
This metalinguistic awareness has made me more precise, persuasive, and creative in my expression.

I’m (probably) beating dementia.

I’m genetically predisposed to some neurodegenerative conditions, most of which affect memory. My doctors think the constant recall and retrieval practice involved in my language learning routines will probably push back their onset by a decade or two.

And all my simple pleasures got upgraded.

I can understand and appreciate the lyrics in international songs.
I can watch international movies without losing nuance in the translated subtitles.
I can understand the often untranslated European phrases in 19th century English and Russian literature.