At school — I studied at School No. 10 — we had very good Kalmyk language teachers. Nina Ochirovna Goryaeva and Raisa Erdnievna Dentelinova conducted their lessons in an engaging and emotional way. The entire class was conducted exclusively in our native language. Today I write in Kalmyk without mistakes precisely thanks to them.

At school we knew all the cases, declensions, and all other aspects of grammar, and our teachers instilled in us respect and love for our native language. Fairy tales, the epic Jangar, and the works of writers were taught to us as a treasury of folk wisdom, and we absorbed the elegance and beauty of our language. After all, such a genre as, for example, “Daln Khoyr Khudl” does not exist in every nation.

The core of our class never “skipped” Kalmyk lessons, although to accommodate Russian students this class was always scheduled last in the timetable. And now teachers of Kalmyk are contemptuously called “Kalmykologist”… (compare: dogologist, cattleologist, regionalologist).

In Soviet times, beginning with the rise of the communists to power, all non-Russian languages came under the pressure of state policy, which aimed to create the “Soviet person.” Anyone who gravitated toward their native culture and language was labeled a “nationalist.”

I remember in the 5th or 6th grade, we were standing during recess speaking Kalmyk, and a teacher passing by, Pustovarova, reprimanded us:

“It’s impolite to speak in a language others around you don’t understand.”

The present time is, in some ways, even worse, since not only does the state suppress non-Russian languages, but even Kalmyks themselves no longer strive to learn their native language. Some parents even submit written requests to school administrations asking that their children be exempted from studying Kalmyk.

And once, a Kalmyk saleswoman in the First Microdistrict responded to my Kalmyk by cutting me off:

“Speak normally.”

Boorishness and “mankurtism” in its pure form.

The most important question in this crucial matter is:

How can we revive and breathe new life into our beautiful language?

Fortunately, it is still alive — many people still speak it — but there is no widespread fluency across the nation as a whole. It is almost absent in government institutions, in the media, and in education.

The imperial nature of this state gives us no chance, even though the current tragic events in a neighboring country began precisely under the pretext of protecting the Russian language. Of course, there were other claims as well, but this was one of the main ones. They enter another country to defend a language, yet for us, Kalmyks and other non-Russian peoples, this right does not exist even on our own land.

The imperial character of the current Russian authorities fundamentally differs from that of the Romanov Empire, which did not suppress the languages and cultures of so-called “aliens” so harshly. It even differs from China’s internal policy toward small nations such as the Mongols and Oirats.

I would like to present to the reader the views of those who are making their contribution to the noble cause of revival.

Dorji Tserenov (initiator of the “Kalmyk Club”), a well-known public activist in Elista and a patriot of his people, believes that everything depends on a national leader, similar to the khans of the past.

Yuri Abushinov actively promotes the cause of revival online, creating dictionaries and translators from Russian to Kalmyk and back.

Other activists and concerned individuals are implementing projects to translate popular cartoons into the Kalmyk language. In our time, many wonderful singers performing in our own language have emerged — this enormous cultural layer deserves a separate article, as does the work of artists of the National Theatre.