It’s probably the most Cambridge-coded admission to make, but l’ll say it with chest: I’m addicted to learning languages. Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, a bit of Albanian, even some cheeky Polish on the side. But this summer, my language-nerd dopamine rush hit its peak with an attempt at Hindi, leading to some of the most spontaneous and heart-warming interactions I’ve ever had in my life.

“When that 600-page Colloquial Hindi textbook touched down on my desk, I started to have second thoughts”

Nelson Mandela once said: “talk to a man in a language he understands and it goes to his head. But talk to him in his language and it goes to his heart.” That may be, but when that 600-page Colloquial Hindi textbook touched down on my desk, I started to have second thoughts. To the casual onlooker, I would have cut a sorry sight indeed. A skinny, sleep-deprived, slightly gaunt 23 year old, beads of sweat undulating over his furrowed brow, stuck on page one for three hours. I laboured to make sense of Hindi’s two different ‘t’ sounds, the minefield of aspirated (breathy) consonants like ‘kh’ and ‘bh,’ and, of course, spent hours learning Hindi’s nasalised vowels, with only my place at the renowned Homerton College to redeem me for my sins.

But, in all seriousness – while I struggled at the outset, Hindi only became more rewarding the more I worked. The first joys were intellectual. From the perspective of one fresh out the crucible of the C6 Ancient Chinese paper, Hindi was surprisingly similar to European languages. The verb ‘to be,’ ‘he,’ is almost identical to Italian’s ‘e,’ and the first ten numbers would be instantly recognisable to any Latin-saturated Classicist. Of course, anyone who has bumped into me in the Revs smoking area knows I can easily digress into a history of the shared origins of Indo-Iranian and European languages, but to experience these connections first-hand was really a joy like no other.

“The sheer joy that my meagre Hindi gave those lads made my entire summer”

And yet, the real beauties of this summer’s new language have been in the interpersonal domain. Armed with a few trusty phrases – “aap kaise hai?” – “main bohot zyada nahin bolta hoon” – I ventured out of my decrepit hovel in mid-July for my first interaction with a Hindi speaker. The chance came when, stargazing on Castle Mound with an audiobook and headphones, a group of four guys literally walked on top of me as I lay on the grass. Fortunately, I had prepped my Hindi swearwords and was able to identify that I must be “that crazy fucking bastard lying on the ground in the middle of the night,” and what started out as an awkward interaction turned into something far better: a heartwarming conversation. I asked them in Hindi what part of India they were from, and we sat up there for two hours. The sheer joy that my meagre Hindi gave those lads made my entire summer.

That was a particular success story, but over the course of the summer I went on to have many spontaneous interactions, ranging from awkward, to heartwarming, to outright embarrassing. A short summary goes as follows:

Top failure – the following conversation in Hindi

Guy: “Where are you from?”

Me: “Hi! I am the English language!” (do not confuse the word for the English language, ’angrezi,’ with ’angrez,’ meaning ‘British’ – will cause social humiliation).

Top success

Being invited to visit New Delhi by a lovely elderly couple who noticed my beginners’ Hindi textbook on the tube.

Top tip – pronounce the word for ‘yes,’ ’ji ha,’ with a pause in-between

Saying it too fast could be mistaken as a threat, according to my friend’s flustered parents.

The most beautiful thing I took from this experience was just how much of an impact my initial commitment, to study 30 minutes of Hindi a day for a month, had on Hindi speakers both from India and the UK. I can’t tell you how moved people were to see that someone had actually taken the time to appreciate and value their language and their culture. And so, my final exhortation to you, my dear reader, is this – when the Duolingo owl swoops menacingly into your notifications, heed the call. Tremble in fear. Hide for cover, and rush to do a lesson in whatever language you’re working on, be it Arabic, Spanish or Romanian, Chinese, Italian, or Klingon (well, maybe not Klingon). Because, in the words of a self-confessed language nerd and proud Homertonian, a little really does go a long way.