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Language : A Language Of Communication

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Language. A tool of communication that holds the precious commodities of the very culture itself. Take the language of a nation away and the culture will inevitably wither away as well. I was born without a language. Born unaware of who I was, and what I was supposed to be. All I was was a human being, all I knew was that I was breathing and that I was alive.
At that moment in time I was but a blank canvas of which not a single stroke had brushed its marks upon. As I grew, I was raised with English as my language, it was not by choice, it was solely fate that had me learn it, just as it had been fate that my parents out of seven billion would meet, just as it had been fate that had made my father travel from Pakistan all the way to the United States, and just as it had been fate that had made me the first born, born in Chicago.
I was not raised with the language of my Native American family on my mother’s side Ho-Chunk. No, that language is almost dead and not many people speak it. I was not raised with the language of my father of which the majority of my family and culture speak: Urdu. No, I was raised with what had become the language of the land: English.
By the time I was born, before I had even known it, I had been split, caught in a limbo between three worlds, each having its own language and pull on who I was. At home I was merely Tamoor a Pakistani Native-American who’s from Chicago. In Pakistan, I was the American, in America I was different, and to the tribe I

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