Endearment in English!

English is a formal language. It sounds stiff and austere, like a sermon read from the pulpit. When we watch English films, we wonder how the conversation is so clipped. The characters seem wooden, like the ventriloquist’s doll- only the lip moves, the face is totally blank. Indians come from the opposite end of the spectrum. We have our roots in a theatrical culture. The body language is loud- as if we need variations in 8 different body-parts, ashta-vakra, before we can utter a single sentence! All the regional languages have the tone and natural cadence that lend themselves to this form of animated expression.

But English has made inroads into a huge swathe of the Indian population. It is here to stay. Some even claim to think in English. We are now stuck with a strange problem. How do we bring an element of endearment and informality, so that we can stay loose and casual, and still use English? As we look around the country, English has undergone a complete transformation, colored by the construct in the regional language.

“Rey” is a colloquial slang in “Mumbaiyya Hindi” used liberally when close buddies chitchat.  It spills over to English- “Why you are worrying so much rey? No school tomorrow rey! I am going to Five Gardens rey! You are coming rey?”

The convent educated have a unique style- sprinkling their talk with the word “man”! “What man? Tomorrow picnic man! Aksa beach will be fun man! You have to come man!” As in Mumbai, so in West-Indies- “man” undergoes a slight modification. The Caribbean usage would go as follows, coupled with the deep baritone in the voice, “Maan! How you’re doing maan?”

Sometimes, a dollop of affection is added, by punctuating each sentence with “ya”. “The exam was so difficult ya! I did so badly ya! I hope I will pass ya!” “Ya” is dangerously close to the Hindi “yaar”, used to bump up the dearness quotient. “Ya” can occasionally get you into a spot of bother. So I learnt the hard way. Way back in school, I told the security guard, “I came to check if the class is going on ya!” He shot back curtly, “Mein tera yaar nahi hoon! Theek hai?” Oops! “ya” can be a little too close for comfort! What is “ya” in India, is “la” in Singapore, having undergone a slight transformation, but retaining the same intent.

In Chennai, a close relationship is expressed through the terms “machaan” and “machi”. It finds its way into English too. “Machaan! Yesterday, Dhoni’s innings was too much machaan! “Thala” hit so many sixes machaan! Out of the stadium, the ball went…machaan! Machi! You are coming for Jailer machi? Night show machi!”

Bengaluru has its special lingo peppered with “Da” and “bro” in the conversation. “Bro, it took me forever to clear Silk Board junction, bro! My stop was just not coming da!”

Sometimes, you add an element of both respect and closeness through the manner of address. It needn’t be a blood relation. Anyone older can be safely addressed as “uncle ji” and “aunty ji” in North India. That way, you enter their good books instantly. “Uncle ji, how is your health ji? And aunty ji, the rasmalai you made last time was delicious!” Through that initial conversation, you are now an inseparable part of uncle ji and aunty ji’s extended family!

The British bequeathed us with the English language. Bred in the British Isles and fanned in the windswept meadows of the English countryside, English has a certain aloofness, a stiff upper-lipped quality about it. For the Indian tastebuds, it is too bland. We have garnished it with our own spices and tempered it with homegrown masala, so much so, it is now flavorful and distinctly Indian!

As the aroma of Indian English wafts in the air, perhaps the Englishman can scarcely believe, this is the language he left behind!