<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Language on Anachronistic Monk</title><link>https://durwasa-chakraborty.github.io/tags/language/</link><description>Recent content in Language on Anachronistic Monk</description><generator>Hugo -- gohugo.io</generator><language>en</language><copyright>© 2026 Durwasa Chakraborty</copyright><lastBuildDate>Fri, 05 Dec 2025 03:38:30 +0530</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://durwasa-chakraborty.github.io/tags/language/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Place of Honorifics in Modern Society Part A :: Academia</title><link>https://durwasa-chakraborty.github.io/posts/english-honorifics-and-in-academia/</link><pubDate>Fri, 05 Dec 2025 03:38:30 +0530</pubDate><guid>https://durwasa-chakraborty.github.io/posts/english-honorifics-and-in-academia/</guid><description>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Call me Ishmael.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;That line opens one of literature’s great sweeping saga: a man, a whale, and the bruising, salt-earning adventure of simply not dying at sea. But the name does something subtle: like a polite knock on the front door of literature. It positions the narrator. In Sanskrit, nāma means exactly that: the thing by which you call someone from afar.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Language Semantics</title><link>https://durwasa-chakraborty.github.io/posts/language-semantics/</link><pubDate>Fri, 24 Mar 2023 11:07:52 +0530</pubDate><guid>https://durwasa-chakraborty.github.io/posts/language-semantics/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Happy Birthday to Me: Musings on Language and Code&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Today, I find myself celebrating my birthday in the tranquil confines of a cozy Airbnb in Vancouver. It’s a momentary escape from the pressures of work, a rare breather amidst the ever-present demands of the office. Through the frost-touched window, I watch the Canadian flag battle the icy winds. Below, I can hear the faint murmurs of a French-speaking couple, my neighbors. A little later, the cadence of Mandarin reaches my ears, no doubt my landlord going about his day. And then, the phone rings. It&amp;rsquo;s my mother, calling from home, so naturally, the conversation begins in Bengali. When my father takes the phone, we switch seamlessly to Hindi. After the call, I set the phone down, open my laptop, and begin composing an email in English.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>