British English? For what joy?

Guess which country, after the United States, is home to the highest number of English speakers? The obvious answer would be the United Kingdom. Wrong! The correct answer is India, where approximately 125 million people (10 per cent of the population) speak English as either a first or a second language. English also serves an important function in India. Nearly 1,000 languages are spoken in the country, but only Hindi and English are likely to be understood throughout. This past February I went on a three-week tour in India. ...
British English? For what joy?
The Taj Mahal, Agra
Guess which country, after the United States, is home to the highest number of English speakers? The obvious answer would be the United Kingdom. Wrong! The correct answer is India, where approximately 125 million people (10 per cent of the population) speak English as either a first or a second language. English also serves an important function in India. Nearly 1,000 languages are spoken in the country, but only Hindi and English are likely to be understood throughout.

This past February I went on a three-week tour in India. Judging by the English used by tour guide Amit, one wouldn’t suppose that Indian English was at all distinctive. He was, however, addressing two dozen North American tourists. Had he been using the normal vernacular, he might have used the following sentence (italicized terms represent Indian English): “The puskee goonda holding the tiffin carrier was eve-teasing the young woman notwithstanding that the police-wallah with a lahti was standing next to the grameen bank near the kaccha road.”

Some translation may be in order. A puskee goonda is a feeble-minded hooligan, and a tiffin carrier designates a small lunchbox; eve-teasing is a euphemistic reference to sexual harassment of women; a police-wallah is a police officer (wallah denotes a profession) and lahti refers to a stick two to five feet long that may be lead-weighted. A grameen bank refers to a village bank designed to aid the less affluent, and a kaccha road is a dirt road.

British journalist Malcolm Muggeridge quipped more than 30 years ago that the last Englishman would be an Indian. Particularly in the past this held true, and I recall when I was researching Indian English for my book Global Mother English 14 years ago, I came upon some Internet usages that described words and expressions that have become archaic in England. For example, “jolly good” and “out of station chappies.” Terms such as these are now less likely to be used in India; however, there are many words that are still used that have actually been declared “obsolete” by the OED. These include “condole” (to grieve) and “prepone” (the opposite of postpone).

In addition to archaic use, Indian English tends to be replete with effusive phraseology. “Don’t eat my head” denotes irritation, and if your head is “eating circles” you are most likely giddy. If someone utters the seeming nonsequitur, “My head is paining, father serious,” the person has a headache exacerbated by their father being very ill. Should an Indian inquire, “For what joy?” the individual is trying to find out your reasons for a particular action.

Also, nobody can accuse Indian English of brevity. The expression “Please respond” is likely to be replaced with the long-winded “Beg the pleasure of your response” or if a quick answer is required, “Please revert at the earliest reply.” The Indian English newspapers have large matrimonial sections where you’re likely to find wordy entreaties such as “Seeking mutual alliance for a daughter.” My favourite description of the ideal partner for a bride-seeking fellow, however, was the oxymoronic “traditional with modern outlook.”

The syntax and grammar in Indian English can sometimes be perplexing to outsiders. Sentence structure can vary from the norm. In Indian English it is acceptable to say, “What you would like to buy?” “It is the nature’s way” or “My all friends are waiting.” Also acceptable are verbal constructions such as “He is having many books” or “I am understanding it.” The present perfect is used often instead of the simple past, so someone might say, “I have brought the book yesterday.” Single nouns are sometimes assigned a plural form of the verb or plural nouns a singular verb, e.g., “My marriages was typical arranged.” Certain verbs might be employed differently. For example, one doesn’t “obtain” permission; rather one “‘takes” permission.

Notwithstanding the fact that even some Indians view Indian English as sub-standard, for more than 50 years, Indians have been exacting a modicum of revenge on the legacy of the British Raj by re-inventing the language. In 1947, Indian writer Raja Rao was one of the early advocates of a distinct Indian style of English: “We cannot write like the English. We should not. … Our method of expression therefore has to be a dialect which will someday prove to be as distinctive and colourful as the Irish or the American. Time alone will justify it.”

Given that in the past three decades India has supplied several Man Booker Prize winners for the best novel in any Commonwealth country, I think it fair to say that time has spoken. As a character in Hanif Kureishi’s 1995 novel The Black Album affirms, “They gave us the language, but it is only we who know how to use it.”


Howard Richler’s book Word Play: Arranged & Deranged Wit will be published in spring 2016.