My mother tongue andl dont speak to each other

I can speak some Malay, Mandarin, Korean and German but not Malayalam.

- Natasha Ann Zachariah

There are many identities that I've embraced over the years: journalist, new host of a podcast show, an aunt, and being an independent woman.

But there is one that I was born with that sometimes sits uncomfortably with me: I'm a Malayalee, but at 36, I still can't speak my mother tongue.

It bothers me now when fellow Malayalees - older relatives or service staff - speak in Malayalam, and I have to ask my mother: "What did they say?," It bothers me when my mind sometimes wanders to my late maternal grandfather and the subtler things we never spoke about because I didn,t know the words he knew. He died in 2023 and was the last surviving grandparent I had.

Growing up, I never thought speaking my mother tongue was a flex.

I once called it a "dead language" because I never needed it - a faux pas that greatly annoyed my mother (and now possibly offending the more than 35 million people who speak the language of Kerala, the south-western coastal state of India, where my grandparents were from.) At times, everyone els's language was more important, or fun, to learn.

Malay was the language chosen for me to study in school. I was relatively decent at it, good enough to study Higher Malay in primary school, and scoring B3 at the 0- and A- levels.

I spoke the language with a formal lilt, and was sometimes teased for it. These days, despite learning the language for 12 years, I rarely use Malay unless it's to order food or Iet it loose on trips to Malaysia.

I picked up everyday Mandarin over the years, listening to classmates and colleagues chatter on or watching evening TV dramas. I see it as a challenge to master the tones for each character. It's now my secret superpower, of sorts, that I call on when I make basic orders at the coffee shop or speak to the Chinese aunties and uncles I randomly meet.