In India, my father asks me to slow down the car at the sight of a speed breaker and not a speed bump. I love the pasta Kareena Aunty makes, not the one Aunty Kareena makes. In India, when you pester someone, they’ll ask you to “not eat their head.” Your boss doesn’t pressure you to work extra hours, he “sits on your head.” In India, we speak English a little differently.
When I planned to move to New York City for an English language-centric course, the first thing I typed on my notes app was “score well on IELTS/TOEFL” which was instantly followed by a question in my head: Why? Why am I supposed to prove my proficiency in the language that I grew up studying and using myself? When the country I belong to is the second-largest English-speaking nation. English is India’s as much as it is anyone else’s.
The language, vocabulary, and accents in the standardized tests are reflective of American, British, or Australian varieties of English—not Indian—which makes us need to assimilate ourselves to it. In other words, is this a remnant of colonialism? I believe pushing the challenges of linguistic purism and language standardization and embracing the diversity of Indian English can lead to a richer linguistic landscape.
As an international student studying journalism in New York City, Indian English is something that personally obstructs my original way of thought as I manifest it into a written piece that needs to fit the conventions of journalistic writing. I’m often corrected by my professors. It has probably been either because they were genuinely puzzled, or because they thought that the forms I was using might distract readers from the content of my work. It’s the most common everyday words that I often mistake for standard English like Brinjal (eggplant), prepone (ahead of time), etc.
Indian English, like British, American, and Australian, is a variety of language with its own unique words, phrases, phonological features, and accent. The way I see it is—imagine the English language as a human eating a plate full of saucy spaghetti with their hands, instead of using silverware. That’s Indian English right there. Many people would label the act of eating with hands as uncivilized, but I would simply call it non-westernized. Indian English should not be considered incorrect or any lesser than other varieties of English that we’ve designated as “standard.”
Melissa Monroe, professor of liberal studies at The New School (who has previously taught English and linguistics at Stanford University and Fordham), clarifies how no linguist would hold the view of treating Indian English as a dialect while they don’t consider Australian or American English dialects. “American English, British English, and Indian English are all major varieties of English, each with its sub-varieties,” she explains. “They differ in many respects, and each has its own “Standard’ form, which is used most often in writing to eliminate elements of the less common varieties that might be confusing to readers. A writer is always writing for an audience, and needs to be aware of what features of their own variety might be unfamiliar to speakers of other varieties. If they don’t offer explanations or paraphrases in these cases, their work may be misunderstood or disparaged by people who don’t know any better, including all sorts of ‘experts’ in their own fields who believe that the variety they speak is the ‘right’ one.”
“The Professor,” a poem by Nissim Ezekiel, is a great example of Indian English. This poem satirizes the way Indians talk in English. One of the major themes of the poetry is the usage of Indian English conveyed through hilarious Indianisms—the flavor Indian cultural attitudes lend to the English language. This is evident in the way the professor uses the present continuous tense, which should be the standard. For instance, he says “I’m going out rarely” when he could have said, “I’m not going out very often.” The professor often omits parts of speech. He says “I’m not against it” instead of “I’m not sure about it” or “Every family has black sheep” instead of “Every family has a black sheep.” Ezekiel is a master at spotting these peculiarities in Indian English and applies them effortlessly to his poetry. It is not about grammar but the flavor Indian cultural attitudes lend to the English language.
Although English has long had a local character in India, historically it has been seen as a foreign language because of its origin. In recent decades, however, there has been an increasing claim that English has been successfully Indianised. For example, the International Journal on Studies in English Language and Literature claims that English is “an Indian language.” Furthermore, “The caste of English” argues that the English language is already deeply embedded in Indian society: “As long as we live as Indians, the English language will be with us, and amongst us, not as a guest or a friend, but as a member of our family, our caste, our faith, our sect, and our tradition.”
English arrived in India as a product of colonialism. Initially, the British came looking for trade opportunities. Subsequently, through alliances, wars, and treaties, the British gained control of various regions. Educational efforts began with the establishment of individual schools and eventually progressed to the actual implementation of formal policies. Over 150 years, it became necessary to spread and develop the English language in a territory whose population spoke hundreds of languages and whose formal history goes back at least 2,000 years. English is an associate official language of India and has an estimated 125 million speakers in the country. In fact, English is the predominant lingua franca in India (connecting all the different language speakers). Especially since India doesn’t have a recognized first language.
Interestingly, while the British indirectly provided us with an opportunity to borrow the English language, we did not let them go empty-handed. There are more than 900 words in the Oxford English dictionary that originated in India and are now spoken across the UK and other English-speaking countries. Such as loot, cot, shampoo, jungle, pajamas, candy, bungalow, mango, and pepper. Many of these words were borrowed directly from Indian people by British soldiers in the 19th century. Borrowing and lending words that happen because of cultural contact between two communities is a fascinating phenomenon and reminds us how everything is connected somewhere but how it is still so distinct and distant.
Unlike India, some colonized countries (Haiti, Jamaica, Dutch South Africa) have fought for the legitimacy of their varieties (which have diverged far more than Indian English has from the colonial language) as Standard varieties, which are now used in schools and government, rather than remaining “second-class” varieties, still considered “corruptions” of the colonial language. Am I arguing that Indian English should be legitimized? Yes and no. It shouldn’t be treated any less of a variation than the other varieties of English and if making the version legit helps, why not? Making the variety legitimate would be treating it as a standard form. S. N. Sridhar, “Indian English” professor at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, in his work “Varieties of English” justifies how monumental Indian English is; he explores “the diversity of the English language today and discusses methods of categorization, description of features, use, and status of contemporary varieties of English around the world.”
A report published in 2022 by Oxford University Press states, “According to Sridhar, however, the variety of Indian English spoken is most crucially shaped by a speaker’s mother tongue and any additional (local) languages known. In fact, the latter directly impacts a range of linguistic aspects, including “pronunciation and accent, as well as lexical choice and grammatical characteristics, and stylistic features.” Regardless of the linguistic differences, variance across Indian English forms is relatively limited.” The report also insinuates that “Indian English is one of the most spoken varieties of English and is considered to be the oldest non-native variety in the world.”
“Indian English was initially seen as a deviation from the standard form (British English), but is gradually being recognized as a vibrant and legitimate variety, integrated into the multilingual makeup of India,” Sridhar says.
When it comes to English teaching, there are two key issues that need to be addressed. First, “Indian English” is still seen as an illegitimate variety for the purposes of education. The “Prestige” varieties of English (British and American English) are seen as the “true” standards. This division creates a hierarchy within educational language policy. Secondly, there is a lack of clarity on how this language variety works for teaching purposes.
Evan Quarnstorm is a freelance writer with a specialty in travel, surfing, and the outdoors. He spent nearly three months in India and discreetly noticed Indian English. In his blog “Learning Indian English,” he writes, “I have been absorbing Indian English words, both consciously to increase my comprehension, and subconsciously by immersion and association.” While Evan questions a few American English words, he embraces Indian renditions. He writes that the word “washroom” is more rational than “restroom.” A few other words that he jots down include scooty, two-wheeler, gravy, bus stand, Volvo, etc. Quarnstorm also expresses his love for the Indian version by writing, “Language in India is fascinating to me. … And I am sure even when I return home, the remnants of Indian English will take some time to brush off.”
India has a way of accepting cultures outside its borders. Which is by adding its touch to everything and anything. And, it has successfully done it with the English language. Let me explain this with an example of food—India might offer cuisines from around the world but it Indianises it. Our Pizzas have chutneys and juicy paneer, and the marinaras in the pizza can be “tandoori” or how Domino’s India would advertise it, “it is hot, it is spicy, it is oh-so-Indian.” The McDonalds in India serve burgers inspired by the local flavors and spice levels. Similarly, the English language has a different personality of its own in India, shaped by Indians. It just simply exists differently. And, this is what makes this medium of communication an art. I read somewhere that Art is a larger term of a much larger culture of people around the world practicing it. True art is so dynamic that it changes from person to person. The juxtaposition of the two is not the most rational, but the fact that the English language is a mixture, an amalgamation of various cultures, a rich history, and a subjective usage, makes it beautiful.
PALAK GODARA is a fashion journalism student at Parsons school of Design, New York City. She loves the concept of magazines and confesses her bias towards glossy ones. When she is not relishing a Pret Pesto Caprese Baguette or walking 20,000 steps around the city, she is interning at Photobook Magazine as a writing intern. Palak, in the past, has written opinion essays for Public Seminar, book reviews in collaboration with Catapult Books, fashion trend pieces for Photobook Magazine and Parsons’ weekly digests. As a 21 year old writer living at the Mecca of publishing, she continues to learn, observe, grow, experience life and then eventually write about it, rewrite, edit and proofread. Check out her work here at https://palakgodara2.journoportfolio.com/. Find her on Instagram @_palakgodara.
