Whose English is it anyway?
In his standup routine on English and reproduction, Biswan Kalyan Rath points out that how you pronounce ‘phenomenal’ will determine where your child gets their second set of chromosomes. It is a telling account of our nation’s obsession with English. When I first heard this, I knew it was true. But how does one even begin to navigate the answer to the question why? Kalpana Mohan responds to that very question and many other pertinent ones in An English Made In India: How A Foreign Language Became Local. She quotes from Kiran Nagarkar’s Ravan and Eddie on how English didn’t open up mere doors, “it opens up new worlds and allows you to cross over from one universe to another”. It also helps you score in romantic relationships. Ravan and Eddie was published in 1995; Biswa’s stand-up was posted in 2015. Little has changed.
While tracing our peculiar fondness for English, Mohan also delves into the evolution of Indian English after independence. Etymology, Indianisms and the many Englishes that are spoken in India find mention. Avoiding the ponderousness of a dense academic exercise, this book is filled with lightness, mirth and the occasional bit of “aha”. Featured here are her conversations with Vinayagam, with Farukh Dhondy talking about his grandmother using “owhson-jhowson”, with
Jerry Pinto and Nabaneeta Dev Sen, each instance punctuating highly technical, linguistic diagnoses with cultural insights, nostalgia and cheeky wordplay.
Mohan begins with Macaulay’s Minute on Indian Education describing the ultimate objective of teaching us English, which was the formation of a class of interpreters between the British and the nation they were governing. She traces how the very same English language would become the language of our freedom struggle. The irony isn’t lost on either side.
The author treads familiar ground when it comes to the present. She touches on how fluency in English is considered a marker for general competence, of intellect and even good parenting. She also looks at how English become a diplomatic compromise in the national language wars between the central and state governments, and reminds us that such unification comes at a price. Mohan believes the overuse of English is taking India towards monolingualism. She also looks at the challenges and the dilemma of publishing in English and of translating works that would otherwise be lost. The language of “opportunity” has suddenly become India’s default option.
Mohan’s portrayal of semantic crosspollination between English and Indian languages is impressive. She paints a piquant picture of the British Raj with its “Pukka Sahibs” and “Chutney Marys.” Words like “pyjama”, “juggernaut”, “pundit”, “jungle”, “zamindar”, “maidan” were all products of the British Raj. If one must find fault, it is with her tendency to present too many details about individuals whose role in the book is incidental. What might be revelatory for the reader is just how intrinsic the English language is to our present and future. The author traces how linguistic obstacles permeate even interactions with technology when she writes of the Uber driver who could not fathom her location because he could not decipher the word “Presidency”.
Mohan’s work is crucial to understanding the art of communication and how it is imperative to Indian identity. This book should be enjoyed by every Indian curious to know how and why our English is “like this only.”