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We speak like that only
In India, English has become a communication
language for the urbanites but its contours are a lot different
from what the colonialists introduced during their rule. During
the past decades it has absorbed the colourful nuances of
the land making it a vibrant and interesting language, finds
Ranjita Biswas.
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It was recently at Oxford University, a jewel in the crown of 'English'
education, that Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh commented with
understated humour that "People here may not recognise the
language we speak, but let me assure you that it is English!"
While accepting an honorary doctorate from his alma mater, he did
not forget either to add that the language, a legacy from the colonial
period, has been much enriched by the Indian input.
If Britain takes pride in its multiculturalism, urban Indians are
comfortable too with a language from across the seas becoming a
part of their own day-to-day life. Indeed, any casual observer of
the current social scenario would know that the language, which
may not be Queen's English, has become the communication language
among young and old alike. Old fuddy-duddies still hanging on to
Raj nostalgia might be shocked by a 'yaar" tail-ending every
other sentence but who cares? Language in any case are not meant
to stick static goal posts. A look at the old English words and
usage and current usage is enough to understand that.
According to the Oxford Companion to the English language, "An
estimated 30 million people regularly use English in India, making
(the country) the third largest English speaking country in the
world." No wonder the BPO centres are flourishing like greens
during the monsoon season. However, many outside the country are
surprised when a 'native' speaks so well. Amita Sikri who has recently
migrated to Canada is often asked, "Where have you learnt to
speak English so well?" Well, let them come to India ! So what
if we add a 'no' here and there to confirm something, 'You're coming,
no?' Or enquire, 'What's your good name?' a direct translation of
the subh naam. If a Brown Sahib sniggers, counter with 'Give me
a better translation,' and he will be floored.
We also know that adding a rhythmic local word adds to the expression's
appeal. Like: "Let's go have some chai-vai" (tea obviously
with some snacks) or "There's a lot of this fighting-witing
happening here every day." If your neighbourhood aunt promises
to 'phone' (call) you later you understand perfectly. You don't
bat your eyelid either when your new neighbour smiles widely and
announces , "Meet my Mrs." What's better way to translate
'My stree' anyway? Or take this beaming young man introducing his
'would-be' - fiancee, of course! to his 'batchmates' instead of
class-mates.
A 'pucca' sahib on visit would, perhaps be surprised to be invited
to dinner at a 'hotel' until he understands it's local parlance
for a restaurant. A proud mother announcing to all and sundry about
her ladli beta getting "cent percent" (meaning 100 per
cent) marks in Math or an executive having to "prepone'' his
meeting are taken in stride too.
It might be a little Greek to the firinghee but we understand perfectly
when somebody's 'business-baazi' or 'cheating-giri' is discussed.
You complain about the taxi-wallah overcharging or are grateful
to the nice grocery-wallah next-door without worrying about the
addition of the wallah.
A few years ago, the popular sitcom Zabaan Sambhaal Ke , the desi
version of BBC's Mind Your Language, had our stomachs (or should
we say tummies?) splitting as the harried teacher Pankaj Kapoor
tried vainly to grapple with adults from various regions of India
wanting to speak propah English. However, it also gave an insight
into how the language, with dashes of regional variations and accents,
have evolved into an interesting recipe. Purists may call it khichdi,
but how lively it is! English language has moved on from the Pygmalion
days after all and has taken in many influences from across the
world.
One of the best ways to keep tab on the pulse of the language in
its various avatars is to listen to the young set, call them GenX
or Y, cool guys- whatever, who 'freak out' at the slightest opportunity.
Shortening the English words is one way. In Kolkata 'enthu' replacing
enthusiasm is old hat as also 'sentu' for sentimental and now they
have even moved to Bengali lingo Amar ekhon ekdom enthu nei (I don't
have any enthusiasm (for it) now') you can hear even a boy on the
street speak like that. 'Funda' for fundamental
'intro' or 'appo' for appointment are freely used. But what about
'snax'? No relation to the salted biscuit brand of the same name
but bath! The connection? Well, snan in Bengali means bath, so....
'Tux' has no relation with the tuxedo-who wears it in our country
anyway- but a baldie which must have originated with the Hindi word,
taklu'. Other favourites are ultra or mega to signify extra-big/
extra-something, 'sad' for anything you don't like, 'timepass' for
whiling away the hours.
Who knows how long it would be before these enter the dictionaries
of the land of Oxford and Cambridge! After all words like hawala,
(illegal financial dealings) badla (revenge) or 'eve-teasing' (will
be difficult for most outsiders to unravel) were already been included
in the appendix to the Collins Dictionary in 2001 which lexicographer
and teacher Indira Chowdhury had helped to compile. She is of the
opinion that words which are widely used should find a place in
a dictionary.
If the country has developed its very own Hinglish, it has been
a reverse trend too. India-origin words have dotted English language
for a long time. Words like bungalow, cashmere (from Kashmir), cheetah,
coolie , cot, cummerbund, cushy ( from Hindi khush), dinghy ,dungaree,
juggernaut (from Lord Jagannatha's huge rath-yatra perhaps) jungle
, khaki (dusty), loot, punch (the drink made of from paanch or five
ingrediants), pyjamas ,shawl, verandah etc.
In the latest Oxford English Dictionary, words like Angrez (Englishman)
and Badmash have already figured. Earlier it had added adda, bundh,
dal puri, bandobast, chutney, bandana, chamcha (Oh, are we familiar
with them!) neta and dhaba .
Sometime ago, the Guardian newspaper discussed how ethnic groups
have spiced up the English language and added, "The Asian English
novelties (are) chuddies for underpants and gora meaning a white
person."
Also, waiting in line to enter the pages of dictionaries because
they are widely used in England are words like Accha, Aloo, Arre,
Desi, filmi (with Bollywood inspiring Moulin Rouge and Bombay Dreams
it is but natural) jungli (uncultured) etc.
With the culinary invasion of the Indian curry replacing the traditional
fish and chips for the average Britisher, it is but natural that
'masala' has replaced spices, and a cuisine called 'balti' cooking
is winning points over the traditional Shepherd's Pie. The die-hard
fans of this cuisine may not know that there is no 'balti style
cooking. The word actually originated from the way food was served
from small baltis (buckets).
But then that's been the way for ages- the language of the people
getting mainstream eventually and enriching it in the long run.
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