Zabaan Aur Rasm-e-khat

The national, international, and cultural significance of language is an established academic fact. We see that even the smallest and most primitive of societies possess a language. Yet, most people are rarely troubled by the question of how human beings actually utilize the faculty of speech. At what stage of human civilization did language emerge? How did it evolve? What is the relationship between humanity and language, or between a language and a nation? What factors drive linguistic change? What exactly does the term mother tongue mean, and how does a language survive?

These are complex questions that pose difficulties not only for the layperson but for scholars as well. Nevertheless, drawing upon various disciplines, humanity has continuously pondered these issues. Today, as human rights are being examined through an academic lens, the relationship between a nation and its language has also come to the forefront. In India, the language issue is not being addressed with academic or rational objectivity. Consequently, passions are inflamed, and the complications continue to multiply. Whenever any linguistic issue is raised, one immediately fears that certain individuals will project their own emotions and agendas onto it, inevitably derailing the academic discourse. However, I am writing these lines in the hope that they will be discussed in the light of scientific and academic inquiry.

Much like language itself, the issue of script also warrants scholarly and dispassionate consideration. Is there an intrinsic connection between a language and its script? Is the script currently used for a particular language truly the most suitable one for it, and can a language not be written in an alternative script? If it were, would that be an unnatural endeavor? Would it alter the very essence and reality of the language? My intention here is not to examine this issue through the lens of any specific language or script, but rather to explore the fundamental relationship between a language and its script.

No one can deny the fact that language came into existence first. Whatever its initial form may have been, it served as a medium for expressing thoughts and emotions. Its primary purpose was expression and communication; it fulfilled a social need that fostered a certain degree of uniformity and unity within the collective consciousness. In this context, a debate often arises regarding where and among whom the very first language originated—did a single language emerge, or did multiple languages develop simultaneously? However, there is no need to get entangled in that debate here. We must simply acknowledge that language emerged at the dawn of human life. If early humans inhabited various regions, their distinct social needs naturally gave rise to different languages in different places. This does not alter the core premise: language was born among human beings and served as a powerful collective foundation that helped organize early civilization.

It is undeniable that language proved instrumental in the formation and development of collective life. As it facilitated human evolution, language itself evolved, and the human mind eventually sought to invent a script to immortalize this extraordinary invention. Regardless, it is an established fact that language emerged first, and script followed later. From this, I conclude that there is no intrinsic, organic connection between a language and its script; rather, the relationship is purely formal and functional. If this premise is accepted, the ongoing debates surrounding language and script can be significantly narrowed in scope.

If we pause here for a moment to consider the origins of script, it will become easier to understand the relationship between language and script. Much like language, the origins of script are shrouded in the mists of antiquity. However, existing research indicates that it began with various forms of pictograms. The Egyptians, Babylonians, Chinese, and Indians attributed the art of writing to their gods, while the Jews attributed it to the Prophet Moses. Undoubtedly, the invention of writing was also a means of conquering nature. To fortify his memory, early man translated his thoughts into recognizable images, enabling him to recall and reproduce his ideas and experiences through mental association. This monumental social achievement can even be said to have roots in the concepts of magic and talismans.

Upon closer reflection, one realizes that magic, too, was essentially an attempt to conquer or control nature. From the very beginning of his existence, man had been engaged in a struggle against nature, forging ahead by utilizing his limited material resources. Writing was simply another tool for this advancement. It is obvious that memory is best aided by close visual resemblance; therefore, drawing pictures of objects can be considered the most natural form of writing. Seeing a picture of a tree will inevitably evoke the memory of a tree, and the continuity of thought will subsequently bring forth all the early life experiences associated with that tree. However, language is not merely a collection of names for physical objects.

In a dynamic life, static, ready-made objects are few. The flow of human thought establishes connections between various forms and states of action. Consequently, alongside pictorial writing, conceptual writing (ideograms) also emerged, utilizing symbols to represent abstract thoughts and ideas. In other words, spoken words can be described as the vocal or phonetic symbols of thoughts, while their written forms are their visual symbols. The sole purpose of a written symbol is simply to direct the mind toward a specific sound, a combination of sounds, or an underlying idea.

Pictorial writing was a primitive and rudimentary attempt to assign symbols to thoughts. However, as the human mind matured and its capacity for writing expanded, it began to assign symbols to sounds. This shift occurred because a purely pictorial script required a unique symbol for every single word. Furthermore, due to a lack of artistic precision, certain drawings would blend into one another, creating ambiguity and confusion. Thus, the quest for a more scientific method became imperative. In the rush to write quickly, detailed pictures were reduced to mere abstract symbols. It is widely believed that modern alphabets are simply the evolutionary descendants of these early pictorial and conceptual writings. A study of the history of the early Hebrew or Greek alphabets reveals that each letter originally carried a specific meaning, and its earliest visual form bore a physical resemblance to that very concept or meaning.

In contemporary academic circles, it is widely accepted that the earliest examples of writing systems (excluding pictorial or hieroglyphic scripts) originated among the North Semitic peoples. Various branches and forms of these scripts subsequently evolved and spread as Canaanite (early Hebrew and Phoenician), Aramaic, South Semitic, and Greek. It was the Aramaic script that gave rise to numerous other writing systems, or at the very least, inspired and influenced their creation. For instance, while the ancient Pahlavi script directly descended from Aramaic, the Brahmi script can also be considered a byproduct of it. However, this remains a highly debated topic, as early Brahmi was sometimes written from right to left and at other times from left to right. This specific detail is not deeply relevant to our core discussion; the point is simply to illustrate that no language is born with an inherent script. Instead, driven by cultural advancement, trade relations, and social influences, a single script and its alphabet began to be used for multiple languages, gradually undergoing modifications over the passage of time.

Languages, too, continuously intermingled. Yet, due to extensive usage and distinct national characteristics, they managed to retain some degree of independent identity. However, as the art of writing traveled from one region to another, people readily adopted it as an essential social invention, thereby clothing their spoken words in phonetic, written forms. Over time, with minor modifications, each country came to regard these adopted writing systems as their own national scripts or as scripts inherently tied to their specific languages. It is also important to remember that scripts do not evolve in the same way or at the same pace as languages do. Minor adjustments were simply made to accommodate minor phonetic variations.

David Diringer, who authored a highly scholarly book on the alphabet, attributes the revolutionary art of writing to the Northwest Semitic peoples. He posits that the alphabet reached the Greeks from there, and the Greeks subsequently expanded upon it. From these very roots, branches continuously sprouted and spread across various countries. No single script can perfectly accommodate every consonant and vowel. Until just a few years ago, certain languages in Russia lacked a writing system altogether; linguists had to invent scripts for them in order to foster their development.

Throughout history, there have been constant efforts to unite all of humanity. Sometimes religion has attempted to fulfill this role, and at other times, political philosophy. Occasionally, attempts have been made to invent a universal language, and at times, a universal script. The underlying motives of dominance and power driving these efforts are so glaringly obvious that they hardly require debate. Even today, this same impulse is at play when the language of one nation or region is imposed upon another. Although attempts are made to cloak this imposition in philosophical and scholarly justifications, it ultimately fails because it inherently involves an element of coercion. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that if some form of uniformity in language and script were achieved, it would certainly yield benefits after a few centuries. But the fundamental question remains: just as language plays a vital role in the formation and development of a nation, is a script intrinsically tied to a language in the same way?

Almost all linguists agree that there is no inherent connection between a language and its script. There is no mandatory link between a sound and its visual, written symbol. What, then, is the meaning behind the oft-repeated claim that if a language's script is changed, the language itself will perish?

Before the invention of writing, language was purely phonetic. It was not bound to any script; the sounds of words were captured solely by the ear. The listener would gradually become accustomed to the impression or reaction evoked by the speaker's voice, to the point where specific words began to trigger specific responses, thereby fixing the meanings of those words. The social context of words endowed their meanings with social significance as well. In this manner, the fundamental purpose of language was being fulfilled. When the art of writing was invented, the auditory images formed in the mind through hearing were translated into written symbols to immortalize those impressions and reactions. Consequently, those impressions began to be reflected in the mind through the sense of sight.

Once learned and observed, the sounds associated with various written symbols begin to form in the mind and evoke impressions in exactly the same way they do when heard and learned orally. If a person does not know a particular language, they will not understand its words (which are essentially combinations of sounds) even upon hearing them. Similarly, seeing those words written in either a familiar or an unfamiliar script will yield no comprehension. The stage at which an impression or reaction guides the mind to a specific meaning depends entirely on our knowledge and is a matter of habit. We will derive meaning from a script—sooner or later—only to the extent that we are familiar with it.

In other words, the mind's ability to associate specific written symbols with specific sounds relies entirely on habit, and this habit is acquired. The correlation between a specific symbol and a specific sound is something we have established ourselves. Take any sound as an example—let us say, the 'J' sound. This sound exists in almost every language in the world. People recognize it in various forms depending on their script—some in one shape, others in another, and some in the form of the Urdu letter 'ج' (Jeem). There are hundreds of scripts in which this exact sound appears in one visual form or another. If a person were familiar with all scripts, they would recognize the written symbol for this sound everywhere. If they knew only a few scripts, they would recognize it only within those; and if they knew only one, they would recognize it exclusively in that single script. If they were completely unacquainted with any writing system, they would remain entirely ignorant of its visual or written form, even if they perfectly recognized the spoken sound.

A person who does not know any script can be taught one in order to recognize sounds. After just a few days of practice, they will become accustomed to identifying the sounds they use in speech within that script, regardless of what the script or the language might be. As previously mentioned, no script in the world is entirely perfect. However, the better a script is, the more accurately it can provide symbols for sounds—that is, symbols that correspond as closely as possible to the spoken sounds—and the more scientific it will be considered. Ultimately, though, whichever script the eyes grow accustomed to is the one that feels the easiest.

Chinese and Japanese scripts are highly complex. People have become accustomed to recognizing sounds only through those specific symbols. Initially, they would consider even the simplest script difficult in comparison. When a person knows multiple scripts and languages, they develop the habit of reading each language in its customary script. However, if a language is written in a different script, their knowledge of the language will allow them to overcome the difficulties of the new script. The more they practice, the more this difficulty will fade, until they can eventually read any language in any script.

This should also be viewed from another perspective. If there were an inherent connection between language and script—such that the words of a language could only evoke a reaction or impression in their traditional script—then it would certainly pose a problem. But this is not the case. The actual reaction stems from familiarity with the meaning, not the symbol. For instance, we use many English words in Urdu and, when necessary, write them in the Urdu script, such as *public*, *poetry*, *political*, *judge*, and so on. Anyone familiar with these words and their meanings can read them without any difficulty. If these words were written in the English script, those unfamiliar with that script would be unable to read them, even if they knew their meanings.

From all these points, a clear conclusion emerges: there is no inherent relationship between language and script. It is our tradition and habit that forge this connection; whatever habit is cultivated will eventually take root. In other words, if we began writing the English language in the Persian script, or the Urdu language in the Latin or English script, it would not be an unnatural, impractical, or academically flawed endeavor. Both scripts are such that there is sometimes a discrepancy between how words are spoken and how they are written. The Urdu word *bilkul* would lose its *alif* in the English or Latin script, and if the English word *HIGH* were written in Urdu, the two letters *G* and *H* would disappear, leaving the word simply as *hai* in Urdu, in accordance with its pronunciation.

In every language, the purpose of a script is identical: to assign symbols to sounds and grant them permanence. Nowhere do these symbols assist in determining meaning; if they did, it would be impossible to determine the meaning of an unwritten word. Yet, we know that during speech, we comprehend a word's meaning simply by processing its phonetic form. Now, if it is established that language and script are two distinct entities and that any language can be written in any script, then the question of selecting between the Devanagari, Latin, or Persian scripts for Urdu takes on an entirely different dimension. Many academic fallacies have been fabricated in the name of nature, temperament, and psychology. One such fallacy is the belief that changing a language's script will alter or ruin the language itself. If rational conclusions can be drawn from this discussion, then a new debate can begin regarding what factors must be considered when adopting a script, and what the true nature of this issue is today.

The national, international, and cultural significance of language is an established academic fact. We see that even the smallest and most primitive of societies possess a language. Yet, most people are rarely troubled by the question of how human beings actually utilize the faculty of speech. At what stage of human civilization did language emerge? How did it evolve? What is the relationship between humanity and language, or between a language and a nation? What factors drive linguistic change? What exactly does the term mother tongue mean, and how does a language survive?

These are complex questions that pose difficulties not only for the layperson but for scholars as well. Nevertheless, drawing upon various disciplines, humanity has continuously pondered these issues. Today, as human rights are being examined through an academic lens, the relationship between a nation and its language has also come to the forefront. In India, the language issue is not being addressed with academic or rational objectivity. Consequently, passions are inflamed, and the complications continue to multiply. Whenever any linguistic issue is raised, one immediately fears that certain individuals will project their own emotions and agendas onto it, inevitably derailing the academic discourse. However, I am writing these lines in the hope that they will be discussed in the light of scientific and academic inquiry.

Much like language itself, the issue of script also warrants scholarly and dispassionate consideration. Is there an intrinsic connection between a language and its script? Is the script currently used for a particular language truly the most suitable one for it, and can a language not be written in an alternative script? If it were, would that be an unnatural endeavor? Would it alter the very essence and reality of the language? My intention here is not to examine this issue through the lens of any specific language or script, but rather to explore the fundamental relationship between a language and its script.

No one can deny the fact that language came into existence first. Whatever its initial form may have been, it served as a medium for expressing thoughts and emotions. Its primary purpose was expression and communication; it fulfilled a social need that fostered a certain degree of uniformity and unity within the collective consciousness. In this context, a debate often arises regarding where and among whom the very first language originated—did a single language emerge, or did multiple languages develop simultaneously? However, there is no need to get entangled in that debate here. We must simply acknowledge that language emerged at the dawn of human life. If early humans inhabited various regions, their distinct social needs naturally gave rise to different languages in different places. This does not alter the core premise: language was born among human beings and served as a powerful collective foundation that helped organize early civilization.

It is undeniable that language proved instrumental in the formation and development of collective life. As it facilitated human evolution, language itself evolved, and the human mind eventually sought to invent a script to immortalize this extraordinary invention. Regardless, it is an established fact that language emerged first, and script followed later. From this, I conclude that there is no intrinsic, organic connection between a language and its script; rather, the relationship is purely formal and functional. If this premise is accepted, the ongoing debates surrounding language and script can be significantly narrowed in scope.

If we pause here for a moment to consider the origins of script, it will become easier to understand the relationship between language and script. Much like language, the origins of script are shrouded in the mists of antiquity. However, existing research indicates that it began with various forms of pictograms. The Egyptians, Babylonians, Chinese, and Indians attributed the art of writing to their gods, while the Jews attributed it to the Prophet Moses. Undoubtedly, the invention of writing was also a means of conquering nature. To fortify his memory, early man translated his thoughts into recognizable images, enabling him to recall and reproduce his ideas and experiences through mental association. This monumental social achievement can even be said to have roots in the concepts of magic and talismans.

Upon closer reflection, one realizes that magic, too, was essentially an attempt to conquer or control nature. From the very beginning of his existence, man had been engaged in a struggle against nature, forging ahead by utilizing his limited material resources. Writing was simply another tool for this advancement. It is obvious that memory is best aided by close visual resemblance; therefore, drawing pictures of objects can be considered the most natural form of writing. Seeing a picture of a tree will inevitably evoke the memory of a tree, and the continuity of thought will subsequently bring forth all the early life experiences associated with that tree. However, language is not merely a collection of names for physical objects.

In a dynamic life, static, ready-made objects are few. The flow of human thought establishes connections between various forms and states of action. Consequently, alongside pictorial writing, conceptual writing (ideograms) also emerged, utilizing symbols to represent abstract thoughts and ideas. In other words, spoken words can be described as the vocal or phonetic symbols of thoughts, while their written forms are their visual symbols. The sole purpose of a written symbol is simply to direct the mind toward a specific sound, a combination of sounds, or an underlying idea.

Pictorial writing was a primitive and rudimentary attempt to assign symbols to thoughts. However, as the human mind matured and its capacity for writing expanded, it began to assign symbols to sounds. This shift occurred because a purely pictorial script required a unique symbol for every single word. Furthermore, due to a lack of artistic precision, certain drawings would blend into one another, creating ambiguity and confusion. Thus, the quest for a more scientific method became imperative. In the rush to write quickly, detailed pictures were reduced to mere abstract symbols. It is widely believed that modern alphabets are simply the evolutionary descendants of these early pictorial and conceptual writings. A study of the history of the early Hebrew or Greek alphabets reveals that each letter originally carried a specific meaning, and its earliest visual form bore a physical resemblance to that very concept or meaning.

In contemporary academic circles, it is widely accepted that the earliest examples of writing systems (excluding pictorial or hieroglyphic scripts) originated among the North Semitic peoples. Various branches and forms of these scripts subsequently evolved and spread as Canaanite (early Hebrew and Phoenician), Aramaic, South Semitic, and Greek. It was the Aramaic script that gave rise to numerous other writing systems, or at the very least, inspired and influenced their creation. For instance, while the ancient Pahlavi script directly descended from Aramaic, the Brahmi script can also be considered a byproduct of it. However, this remains a highly debated topic, as early Brahmi was sometimes written from right to left and at other times from left to right. This specific detail is not deeply relevant to our core discussion; the point is simply to illustrate that no language is born with an inherent script. Instead, driven by cultural advancement, trade relations, and social influences, a single script and its alphabet began to be used for multiple languages, gradually undergoing modifications over the passage of time.

Languages, too, continuously intermingled. Yet, due to extensive usage and distinct national characteristics, they managed to retain some degree of independent identity. However, as the art of writing traveled from one region to another, people readily adopted it as an essential social invention, thereby clothing their spoken words in phonetic, written forms. Over time, with minor modifications, each country came to regard these adopted writing systems as their own national scripts or as scripts inherently tied to their specific languages. It is also important to remember that scripts do not evolve in the same way or at the same pace as languages do. Minor adjustments were simply made to accommodate minor phonetic variations.

David Diringer, who authored a highly scholarly book on the alphabet, attributes the revolutionary art of writing to the Northwest Semitic peoples. He posits that the alphabet reached the Greeks from there, and the Greeks subsequently expanded upon it. From these very roots, branches continuously sprouted and spread across various countries. No single script can perfectly accommodate every consonant and vowel. Until just a few years ago, certain languages in Russia lacked a writing system altogether; linguists had to invent scripts for them in order to foster their development.

Throughout history, there have been constant efforts to unite all of humanity. Sometimes religion has attempted to fulfill this role, and at other times, political philosophy. Occasionally, attempts have been made to invent a universal language, and at times, a universal script. The underlying motives of dominance and power driving these efforts are so glaringly obvious that they hardly require debate. Even today, this same impulse is at play when the language of one nation or region is imposed upon another. Although attempts are made to cloak this imposition in philosophical and scholarly justifications, it ultimately fails because it inherently involves an element of coercion. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that if some form of uniformity in language and script were achieved, it would certainly yield benefits after a few centuries. But the fundamental question remains: just as language plays a vital role in the formation and development of a nation, is a script intrinsically tied to a language in the same way?

Almost all linguists agree that there is no inherent connection between a language and its script. There is no mandatory link between a sound and its visual, written symbol. What, then, is the meaning behind the oft-repeated claim that if a language's script is changed, the language itself will perish?

Before the invention of writing, language was purely phonetic. It was not bound to any script; the sounds of words were captured solely by the ear. The listener would gradually become accustomed to the impression or reaction evoked by the speaker's voice, to the point where specific words began to trigger specific responses, thereby fixing the meanings of those words. The social context of words endowed their meanings with social significance as well. In this manner, the fundamental purpose of language was being fulfilled. When the art of writing was invented, the auditory images formed in the mind through hearing were translated into written symbols to immortalize those impressions and reactions. Consequently, those impressions began to be reflected in the mind through the sense of sight.

Once learned and observed, the sounds associated with various written symbols begin to form in the mind and evoke impressions in exactly the same way they do when heard and learned orally. If a person does not know a particular language, they will not understand its words (which are essentially combinations of sounds) even upon hearing them. Similarly, seeing those words written in either a familiar or an unfamiliar script will yield no comprehension. The stage at which an impression or reaction guides the mind to a specific meaning depends entirely on our knowledge and is a matter of habit. We will derive meaning from a script—sooner or later—only to the extent that we are familiar with it.

In other words, the mind's ability to associate specific written symbols with specific sounds relies entirely on habit, and this habit is acquired. The correlation between a specific symbol and a specific sound is something we have established ourselves. Take any sound as an example—let us say, the 'J' sound. This sound exists in almost every language in the world. People recognize it in various forms depending on their script—some in one shape, others in another, and some in the form of the Urdu letter 'ج' (Jeem). There are hundreds of scripts in which this exact sound appears in one visual form or another. If a person were familiar with all scripts, they would recognize the written symbol for this sound everywhere. If they knew only a few scripts, they would recognize it only within those; and if they knew only one, they would recognize it exclusively in that single script. If they were completely unacquainted with any writing system, they would remain entirely ignorant of its visual or written form, even if they perfectly recognized the spoken sound.

A person who does not know any script can be taught one in order to recognize sounds. After just a few days of practice, they will become accustomed to identifying the sounds they use in speech within that script, regardless of what the script or the language might be. As previously mentioned, no script in the world is entirely perfect. However, the better a script is, the more accurately it can provide symbols for sounds—that is, symbols that correspond as closely as possible to the spoken sounds—and the more scientific it will be considered. Ultimately, though, whichever script the eyes grow accustomed to is the one that feels the easiest.

Chinese and Japanese scripts are highly complex. People have become accustomed to recognizing sounds only through those specific symbols. Initially, they would consider even the simplest script difficult in comparison. When a person knows multiple scripts and languages, they develop the habit of reading each language in its customary script. However, if a language is written in a different script, their knowledge of the language will allow them to overcome the difficulties of the new script. The more they practice, the more this difficulty will fade, until they can eventually read any language in any script.

This should also be viewed from another perspective. If there were an inherent connection between language and script—such that the words of a language could only evoke a reaction or impression in their traditional script—then it would certainly pose a problem. But this is not the case. The actual reaction stems from familiarity with the meaning, not the symbol. For instance, we use many English words in Urdu and, when necessary, write them in the Urdu script, such as *public*, *poetry*, *political*, *judge*, and so on. Anyone familiar with these words and their meanings can read them without any difficulty. If these words were written in the English script, those unfamiliar with that script would be unable to read them, even if they knew their meanings.

From all these points, a clear conclusion emerges: there is no inherent relationship between language and script. It is our tradition and habit that forge this connection; whatever habit is cultivated will eventually take root. In other words, if we began writing the English language in the Persian script, or the Urdu language in the Latin or English script, it would not be an unnatural, impractical, or academically flawed endeavor. Both scripts are such that there is sometimes a discrepancy between how words are spoken and how they are written. The Urdu word *bilkul* would lose its *alif* in the English or Latin script, and if the English word *HIGH* were written in Urdu, the two letters *G* and *H* would disappear, leaving the word simply as *hai* in Urdu, in accordance with its pronunciation.

In every language, the purpose of a script is identical: to assign symbols to sounds and grant them permanence. Nowhere do these symbols assist in determining meaning; if they did, it would be impossible to determine the meaning of an unwritten word. Yet, we know that during speech, we comprehend a word's meaning simply by processing its phonetic form. Now, if it is established that language and script are two distinct entities and that any language can be written in any script, then the question of selecting between the Devanagari, Latin, or Persian scripts for Urdu takes on an entirely different dimension. Many academic fallacies have been fabricated in the name of nature, temperament, and psychology. One such fallacy is the belief that changing a language's script will alter or ruin the language itself. If rational conclusions can be drawn from this discussion, then a new debate can begin regarding what factors must be considered when adopting a script, and what the true nature of this issue is today.