A language with only two speakers, awaits extinction

Christina and Veronica Kerketta's sad cries can be heard in the quiet Christian neighbourhood of Barmachara, which is close to the busy Rajghat tea garden in Sreemangal. 

Christina laments that their mother tongue, Khariya, will cease to exist when she and Veronica, the two sisters, pass away, emphasizing that no one else can speak like them. Veronica somberly adds that if they were to die, the language would end with them, stating that no one else possesses the ability to speak it. 

Khariya, also known as Parsi, is on the verge of extinction in Bangladesh, with these two sisters serving as its last remnant.

It's clear that the Khariya language is facing extinction as Christina and Veronica talk about their worries. The leader of the Khariya community, Jaharlal Pandey, admits the harsh truth and says that only these two people can speak Khariya in Bangladesh. They were born in a Christian neighbourhood and had roots in Ranchi, India. Their parents taught them the language, but they never got to learn it formally and keep it alive. 

The sisters now speak Bengali, Sadri, and Bagani, shifting between the languages according to their needs. Khariya is in danger of going extinct because there aren't enough people who speak it, books written in it, or efforts to protect it.

The Khariya language has declined over time and has been neglected in the Sylhet region of Bangladesh, home to 35 tea garden villages with three to five thousand Khariya people. Khariya leader Jaharlal Pandey acknowledges the language's decline and expresses uncertainty about preserving it for future generations. 

The Khariya language came with their ancestors from Ranchi in 1835. He notes that if Christina and Veronica, who are proficient in the language, pass away, then the Khariya language would cease to exist in Bangladesh.

Christina and Veronica, the torchbearers of a fading language, can speak Khariya fluently but cannot read or write in the language. Education in Khariya remains a distant dream, with no books or educational infrastructure supporting its continuation in Bangladesh. The presence of diverse ethnicities in the tea garden neighbourhoods further complicates the challenges, pushing primary education towards Bengali.

Liza Nanower, a Khariya teacher in Barmachara village, acknowledges the minority status of her linguistic heritage. Despite having 18–20 Khariya children among the hundreds, the medium of instruction remains Bengali. Two Khariya teachers at the school struggle to communicate in their native language despite some of their family members speaking it in private. 

Nanower acknowledges their lack of formal learning in Khariya, having only heard it verbally and never encountered any written material.

As Khariya faces the threat of fading into oblivion, Christina and Veronica stand as the last guardians of a language that once resonated through the tea gardens of Bangladesh. Their sorrow serves as a poignant reminder of the urgent need to preserve the Khariya language before it is forgotten by history.

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