The Way We Use English in India
Had fun doing a review of this book.
The “issueless” couple – who might they be? If you are thinking it is partners with no marital woes, a couple on some kind of permanent honeymoon, you’d be wrong. In the Indian context, at least, the word “issueless” is a stand-in for “childless.” The word family, in India, could sometimes refer to just the wife. You could ask a man, “How is the missus/Mrs.?” or “How is the family?” and it would mean the same thing. If the response is the wife is “serious,” it means she is ill, possibly at death’s door. Be prepared to commiserate. Like some insurance policy, the person could soon “expire” or “be no more.”
If this peculiar usage of words has left you unfazed, chances are you are already familiar with the nuances of Indian English, which is a different beast from British Standard English or its American counterpart. But, as always, we could all do with a little more gyan, or information. This is where S. Muthiah’s “Words in Indian English” – A Guide to English Communication in South Asia promises to come in handy. Because, it turns out, it is not just spoken English which is rife with Indianisms. Even headlines of English newspapers in India have words which don’t always make sense to readers unfamiliar with the local language. (Or as it happens, signs in Indian hotels in distant Manhattan. For instance, this article says: The women waves us into a small back room, unadorned except for a sign that reads, bewilderingly, ”NO ONE BY TWO SERVICE.”)
Here’s the book’s origin story: Some decades ago, on a flight from Madras (now Chennai) to Bangalore, the author heard fellow passengers, Americans, struggle to decipher terms in The Hindu and The Indian Express. What do the terms rail roko or a state-wide bandh to a foreigner passing through these parts? In 1991, the veteran journalist came out with a book which could help foreigners and locals alike understand such terms that have found their way into our periodicals. Now, the book gets an much-needed update. The first entry of the new edition reads Aadhar: The Universal Identity Number of an Individual in India. (Or that without which an Indian citizen cannot officially exist even if Yama, the God of Death, is not planning to come get him just yet.)
Naturally, some words in Indian English pertain to local food and drink. Soon enough you will know your sambar (a thin lentil-based curry) from your sambol (a pungent relish with a rice meal). But don’t be surprised if nutritionists here advice you to eat a lot of grams, shorthand for protein-rich “lentils.” Green gram, for instance, refers to moong beans; besan is the flour of Bengal gram. Don’t let the term Bombay Duck fool you — it is salted fish eaten on India’s West Coast. (While we are on the topic of ducks which are not birds: A cricketer can be out for duck, or without having scored any runs, which would be tragic for his fans!) You may be put off by “dust tea,” a term for tea made from the thick dust left over after packaging leaf tea. In the hands of a good chaiwala, a tea vendor, even this can transform into a halfway decent beverage.
An interesting entry for me was the very name of my hometown. Tell an American you are from Madras and chances are they will talk about madras, the plaid-patterned fabric. “The fabric was born in colonial India,” the New York Times says, “a marriage of Scottish tartans and traditional Madras cottons, and popularized in the United States in the 1930’s by the Hathaway Shirt Company.” The colors of the shirt or dress, made from vegetable dyes, would bleed and change with each wash, which was part of its appeal.
If you are in India you might as well come to terms with Rahukalam, 90 minutes of each day of the week, which is considered inauspicious for any new venture, be it a rocket launch or a trip to the local bazaar. Or a new breed of people Rakshaks, defenders of political dogma of one kind or the other, moral police in short. Different from Rakshasa or Demon. In the recent past, the media also took to referring to demonetization as De-Mon. There are also new acronyms that pertain to old devil, taxes: G.S.T., the Goods and Services Tax, T.D.S, Tax Deducted at Source and PAN or Permanent Account Number.
But let’s come back to pleasanter things. If a flower seller at the bazar pesters you to make a “boni/bowny,” they are asking you to make the first purchase of the day. It is not a lot of money. So don’t be a kanjus and do the needful. In official correspondence, this expression “doing the needful” suggests that the other, who is no intellectual slouch or buddhu, knows what needs to be done in the situation. The phrase has gone around the globe thanks to call centers and India-based tech companies. As has the befuddling “kindly revert back”. Thanking you in advance (TIA).
There are times when it can all be “too much.” If a word, phrase or expression is a head-scratcher, ask around, and get to the bottom of it. Smile, jot down new terms in the “additional words” section in the book. What for, you ask? Some of the words and phrases you collect could survive and become part of the lexicon. Or, you can laugh over a few colorful ones which didn’t make it but are still redolent of those times.
Surely, it can’t get “more better” than that?