India, Dec. 22 -- Nearing midnight on a chilly winter night, a close friend hurried me into the emergency ward of the local civil hospital. A sudden, severe bout of diarrhoea had left me dangerously weak and severely dehydrated. I knew all too well how quickly such things could spiral out of control, sometimes even cost a life, so there was no time to simply wait and see if it would pass. The emergency hall was a blur of movement and muted urgency. Wheelchairs rolled in, stretchers rattled past, and relatives supported loved ones who could barely walk. Some patients moaned in pain; others sat with eyes closed, enduring in silence. I waited among them - pale, hunched, my body running on empty. My dishevelled beard and crumpled clothes, hurriedly thrown on, spoke for themselves, like any other weary village elder braving the cold in search of relief. After what felt like an endless wait, I forced myself to shuffle towards the doctor's desk, hoping to be seen a little sooner. Before I could speak, her voice cut through the air: "Baba, apni vaari sir aao, eh koi tareeka nahin hai (Wait for your turn, this is not the way)." The words struck me harder than I expected. I didn't argue. Instead, I switched to English and, in the politest tone I could muster, said: "Doctor saab, I'm in severe abdominal pain. I'm sorry for stepping ahead, but I can't stand much longer, it's unbearable." Her expression softened instantly, and my unkempt appearance suddenly seemed irrelevant. "Sir, please relax. I'll see you right after this patient," she said calmly. Then, turning to the nurse, she said: "Get a stretcher, let him lie down, and start an IV immediately." Lying there helpless, I couldn't stop thinking about how her attitude had changed so abruptly. Despite no noticeable improvement in my condition, everything seemed to shift the moment I spoke a different language. English, I realised, is no longer just a means of communication. It has become a kind of passport, one that opens doors, commands attention, and shapes perceptions. Undeniably, it connects people globally, keeps trade flowing, and carries ideas to new horizons. Notwithstanding its reach, we must never forget the worth of our mother tongue - the one that cradled us in lullabies, shaped our first thoughts, and instilled the sanskars (values) we carry through life, enriching our cultural and emotional legacy. While English unfolds vast vistas and opens many doors, nevertheless, we must continue to cherish and nurture the vibrant hues of our mother tongue, the language that embraces us with a warmth and intimacy no other tongue can ever truly match. A person might falter or stammer when speaking English, but when they cry out in their own language, the truth in their voice is pure and undeniable. The words may be simple, the tone cracked by pain, but they carry equal worth, equal dignity. Language should never be a wall between people. It should be a bridge. And in the grand symphony of mankind, every voice, whether in a global tongue or the humblest local dialect, deserves to be heard with the same compassion and respect. Because every language carries a message from the heart, and every voice counts. As legendary poet-philosopher Rabindranath Tagore said, "The mother tongue is the true language of our soul, the root from which all our thoughts and feelings grow."...