By Avner Pariat
Sitting on a commode at Don Mueang Airport in Bangkok, lost in a haze of thoughts and recollections from the past few days, I suddenly heard a voice. It was a familiar sound, a distinct sound to those of us attuned to its peculiarities: it was unmistakably a Khasi voice. The accent, the tonality broke through the cacophony of other languages, hand driers and the more horrific sounds one encounters in a public male lavatory at 8 AM in the morning. What caught my ear though was how clearly this lone voice stuck out. This person was speaking English, instructing his son to wait for his turn. A seemingly small incident, yet it set my mind racing.
I realized then something remarkable: after spending almost 2 weeks in Thailand, this was one of the few occasions when I heard English being spoken openly and purposefully by a non-native speaker. This includes Europeans who did use a fair amount of English to navigate Thailand but when it came to communicating within members of their own group (whether German, Danish, Swedish etc) they would not use English but would naturally recourse to their mother tongue. Reflecting further, I recalled that I encountered only two other groups who spoke English to their own group members exhibiting a similar trend to the Khasi I encountered—Singaporeans and Malaysians (in particular those from Kuala Lumpur). Singapore, of course, has deliberately embraced English as its working language, using it as an important tool for much of their success. Kuala Lumpur – as a cosmopolitan hub – home to so many different groups naturally fostered English as a glue for social cohesion.
This ease with using English might be very well documented in Shillong but even in remote villages, there are always some Khasi people who possess a decent comprehension of English. Our vocabulary might not be as expansive as that of native speakers, but our affinity for the language is undeniable. This, I contend, is not a weakness but a strength—one that we have failed, thus far, to fully recognize and capitalize on. Some critics, particularly from the right-wing ethno-nationalist sphere, might argue that embracing English dilutes our identity. They insist that we must focus solely on preserving the Khasi language and culture. But why should it be an either-or situation? Language is not a zero-sum game. One can master English while still cherishing and nurturing one’s mother tongue. Multilingualism is an asset, not a betrayal.
Traveling across Thailand, I noticed one undeniable fact—their English proficiency lags far behind ours. And therein lies an economic opportunity. If the government or private enterprises were to invest in this sector, Khasis could spearhead an industry of teaching English as a second language (ESL). The demand is real, the market (nationally and internationally) exists, and we already possess a hundred-year advantage in this domain. We should be serious about this as a skill set in itself.
We don’t need to spend much time and money re-skilling our people in things they are not familiar with. We have many well-trained English teachers who are unemployed so the trainer talent pool exists. Most of the state’s children opt for Arts stream already so the HR talent pool also exists. Let us put up EOIs for firms who are serious into going into this industry. Incentivize, subsidize, whatever it takes. Why not establish ourselves as a leading hub for ESL training, catering to the rest of Southeast and East Asia? If we don’t seize this moment, others will. The Nagas, the Mizos—many are catching up. If we hesitate, we risk squandering a unique and powerful asset.
Moreover, a robust ESL sector in Meghalaya could provide thousands of jobs, ranging from teaching to administrative roles in language institutions. It could also encourage young entrepreneurs to establish their own English training centres, creating a ripple effect of employment opportunities. Digital platforms and online courses could be developed, allowing Khasi teachers to instruct students across Asia remotely, further expanding the reach and impact of our linguistic advantage.
We must think beyond Meghalaya, beyond the Northeast, and instead, look outward—towards Asia and aligning ourselves with the global economy. This is not just about language; it’s about economic growth, about carving a space for ourselves in an increasingly interconnected world. A space which we can be proud of, which can make us wealthy. The same naysayers who say we must only use Khasi are quite clueless when it comes to how to improve our people’s lives and alleviate their poverty. Let them grumble in the corner as usual. I repeat: English has given us an edge—it’s time we use it to our advantage!
If we fail to act now, we will regret it in the future when other regions overtake us. We must push for policy changes that integrate ESL training. The government, NGOs, and private investors must come together to create an ecosystem where our English proficiency is harnessed effectively. With the right policies, funding, and initiative, Meghalaya can become a beacon of ESL excellence, driving economic growth and empowering our people.