English, you snob!

The BBC is currently broadcasting a fascinating TV programme entitled ‘Worlds of English’. It deals with English as it is used in different parts of the world and, since there is considerable dialogue with local inhabitants, we are treated to unique insights concerning the evolution and use of hybrid English – Hinglish, Chinglish, Singlish, and so on. (Yes, I’ve watched just three episodes, so far!)

English was carried to the colonies and taught to the ‘natives’ who promptly adapted it to their own requirements. If they could understand each other, where lay the problem? English language teachers were horrified and sought to instill the use of propah English by drilling hapless students in grammar and vocabulary. The knowledge and ability to use correct English was the standard by which one’s erudition was judged! No more. As one savvy Singaporean put it, ‘We use Singlish to communicate with our friends and within our peer group. It’s a fun language – unstructured and accommodating. And we know when and how to use Standard English as well.’ He was affronted that Singlish was treated as pidgin. Singlish is used to communicate, therefore it is a language. How right?!

This brings me to the reason for my topic today:

I belong to a generation that was rigorously schooled in the King’s (Queen’s?) English. As part of this education, it was considered de rigueur for us to flavour our writing with the bon mot, phrases and expressions culled from Latin, French, and German. Such usage was indicative of a higher standard of language, such as exhibited by the best British Universities! So we mugged up the words and phrases: carpe diem, Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes, bête noire, la dolce vita, savoir faire, doppelganger (go figure!) and made sure that we used them within the texts we produced. We wanted to appear au fait with the language, and how! (And what is wrong with saying ‘conversant’ anyway? The Lord knows that the English language has enough synonyms to fit any bill).

My current reading brought this home. A series of essays on the work of other authors, the text is peppered with mutatis mutandis, contemptus mundi, propria persona, Zeitgeist – you get the drift. What makes it deliciously ironical is that these phrases are culled from the ‘classic’ languages, the languages of nations that were inimical to the British – at one time or the other in history, Britain was at war with France, Germany and Rome.

Yet, when it comes to the language of the colonies, the injection of local words and phrases is considered a corruption.

Why does it cause so much jhanjat (such a furore) if we choose to ghoosao (try and infiltrate) a few choice phrases of our own? Particularly those phrases which, thanks to juicy idiom, defy translation?!

And, to use such an idiom, even though out of context, why must the English be kebab me haddi? (‘play spoilsports’ would be an accurate translation, but it conveys none of the spicy flavour!)

PS: A note of caution. In the words of my favourite grammarian, David Crystal, one must first know the rules in order to know how to bend them. A strong grounding in Standard English is required for representation at the global level. One cannot carry over Hinglish and expect to be appreciated!