No Crime, Just Punishment

I didn’t realize what a wart of a town Middlebury was until I searched it using Google Earth yesterday and discovered a pixelated blur. Sure, it only takes me 20 minutes to jog across town, and, of course, everyone here speaks in proverbs, but somehow I never quite fused the connection.

For the last 40 days, I have been studying Russian at Middlebury College. It is a thoughtful program that works classes, films, and tea parties into a digestible nine weeks. One quirk is that upon arriving, you are required to sign a pledge promising only to communicate and acquire stimuli in Russian. This explains why I got busted two weeks ago. I was caught listening to a Lutheran mass—which was written in another irresponsible language, German.

Fortunately, I can say that I am learning loads. Though I’ve only been studying the language for a year, I find myself already knee-deep in insights about the Russian culture. Upon finding out, for example, that 95 Rwandan troops were being launched into Sudan to stop the genocide there, I found myself marvelously tickled.

And this is understandable, for my time here has been a faithful blend of New England and Russian experiences. Puritan because I find myself cloistered away in a hamlet on a quest for self-improvement. And Russian because I am suffering a great deal.

For this is a messy dustbin of a language. You simply would not entrust the Russians with anything if you saw what a mess they have made of their tongue. It can be mildly interesting at times, but this too only for spectacle, the way people will stop and gawk at a train wreck.

Observe the phrase “your inconsolable artist,” for example, which here has been declined enough to constitute linguistic torture under several international conventions (though, one must add, not necessarily under domestic ones). Here are the 6 cases, all of them troublesome.

Singular

Nominative: Vash bezishodnyj hudozhnik—Your inconsolable artist

Accusative: Vashego bezishodnego hudozhnika—Your inconsolable artist

Dative: Vashemu bezishodemu hudozhniku—To your inconsolable artist

Instrumental: Vashim bezishodnim hudozhnikom—With your inconsolable artist

Prepositional: Vashim bezishodnom hudozhnike—About your inconsolable artist

Genitive: Vashego bezishodnego hudozhnika—Of your inconsolable artist

Plural

Nominative: Vashi bezishnodnie hudozhniki

Genitive: Vashikh bezishodnikh hudozhnikov

Dative: Vashim bezishodnim hudozhnikam

Instrumental: Vashimi bezishodnimi hudozhnikami

Prepositional: Vashikh bezishodnikh hudozhnikakh

Unfortunately, this is not just a disgraced cousin of innocent forbearers; the entire language is guilty.

Aside from such a penchant for masochism, the Russians have a curious affection for gangly words. These march across the pages with all the ostentation of our public during a time of war. For example, digest the word shapkozakidatelstvo if you can. Literally, it means “tossing-caps-up-in-the-air-ness” and connotes an arrogant faith in victory or success. It’s the kind of brilliant expression you can get bladdered on (and no doubt, this is a very Russian thing to encourage). But can you imagine them militantly lined up in a dictionary, all waiting to be uttered? Please, someone, staple me now.

I know that it is easy to get frustrated with a language— especially with one that did not have the foresight to include the word “frustration” itself (any student of Russian history knows it is a fairly important word). But I remind myself that Russian isn’t as bad as Mandarin, for example, which has a writing system divorced from its spoken language. That is like having the text of “Fiddler on the Roof” sung to “Cats.” It makes no sense at all.

I have several ideas to reform this language, but will no doubt find myself accused of linguistic arrogance. Therefore, in the interests of tolerance, I shall acquiesce to such staggering witlessness and bow out with grace. My Russian program expires—hopefully before I do—in 17 days.

Sahil K. Mahtani ’08, a Crimson editorial editor, is a history concentrator in Winthrop House. He somehow enjoys punishing himself.