Living in 21st century urban India we encounter Hinglish at every juncture of our everyday life, be it through TV advertisements, daily soap operas or commercial Hindi films. Since languages cannot function in strict demarcated spaces, they are bound to interact with each other. And when two major languages do, more often than not, the interaction gives birth to a new hybrid which “cannibalistically” feeds on its parent languages. Hinglish, as a hybrid of Hindi and English is often considered as a much recent phenomenon but the evidence suggests otherwise. This began with the very immediate interaction of the two languages as and when they came to exist under the same geographical setting. Among the first such interactions is the one quoted by Harish Trivedi, the 1887 ghazal by Ayodhya Prasad Khatri:
“Rent Law ka gham karen ya Bill of Income Tax ka?
Kya karen apna nahin hai sense right now-a-days.
… Darkness chhaaya hua hai Hind men chaaro taraf
Naam ki bhi hai nahin baaqi na light now-a-days.” (2011, p. xii)
Another Hinglish instance was recorded in a 1909 complaint letter by Okhil Chandra Sen, written to the Railway officer of Sahibganj Division, West Bengal.
“Dear Sir,
I am arrive by passenger train Ahmedpur station and my belly is too much swelling with jackfruit. I am therefor went to privy. Just I doing the nuisance that guard making whistle blow for train to go off and I am running with lotah in one hand & dhoti in the next when I am fall over & expose all shocking to man & female women on platform. I am got leaved Ahmedpur station.
This too much bad, if passenger go to make dung that dam guard not wait train minutes for him. I am therefor pray your honour to make big fine on that guard for public sake. Otherwise I am making big report to papers.
Your’s faithfully servent,
Okhil Ch. Sen.”
These two instances showcase that the Hinglish phenomenon is much older than it is believed to be. But it was able to impact Hindi cinema only in the 1990s. Though the Indian cinema came into being in 1913 with Dadasaheb Phalke’s Raja Harishchandra, the wave of Hinglish cinema emerged only when globalization, privatization and liberalization hit the Indian subcontinent. Film makers keenly incorporated both Hindi and English to their scripts to reach a wider audience across the world. C. Dasgupta in ‘House Full, No Intermission’ observes that in the film Dr Kotnis Ki Amar Kahani “Shantaram himself played Kotnis and shot the film in Hindi and English in the hope of finding a market for it in the United States”.
Since cinema is one of the most dynamic forms that reflects a society, it might be useful to look at the course of Hinglish through its lens. In this paper I will attempt to trace the trajectory of Hinglish through mainstream Bollywood cinema which is the largest film producing industry in the world. My paper will stick to the specific influence it has on the targeted urban audience. Further I will try and explore the different connotations, stereotypes and apprehensions faced by Hinglish and how Bollywood has slowly shredded some of these to only to make way for some newer ones.
The earliest Hindi cinema was influenced by the Hind Swaraj and Hindi nationalist fervour which became one of the most important underlining themes in the films produced. This was directly influenced by the various national campaigns that fought to establish Hindi as the nijbhasha and rastrabhasha. Francesca Orsini termed this rise of Hindi nationalism as “Hindi Public Sphere” which is a “discursive and institutional space, a common language, set of procedural principles … activism and the awareness of a public “out there”.
From the time of silent cinema, films have assisted Hindi nationalism under the tag of Hindi cinema. C. Dasgupta observes:
“He [Dada Saheb Phalke] was the Hindu Melies determined to promote his religion through the special effects he keep inventing. All of the 100 he made were mythological, right up to 1937.”
Hence even after the introduction of sound in 1931, the dialogues remained true to its cause. Many film makers lost audience because of these language restrictions. But a change was recorded in 1950s. Films introduced few English words and phrases in a predominately Hindi script. And by 1991 with the introduction of economic liberalization in the Indian market, the face of cinema changed. Hinglish became the prominent language of mainstream films. With the coming of Hinglish cinema a wider audience was reached and unlike the earlier closed structure, the industry moved towards preserving “the rich diaglossia that Hindi nationalism tried to destroy”.
But this significant shift to Hinglish came with its own baggage. English, though minimally used, in the scripts of 1970s and 80s, was portrayed as a colonial language, a carrier of westernization, representative of values opposite to that of the Indian culture. So though the rigid Hindi nationalism paved way for a more liberal Hinglish, yet the stereotypical legacies English carried made it difficult to view it neutrally. English appeared to be the language of the rich and powerful, of foreign-returned sahib and memsahib, of villains, of Parsis, Christians and Anglo-Indians, and of comedians.
In the film Shree 420 (1955), all the exchanges between Raju (Raj Kapoor), Vidya (Nargis) and her educated father are in Hindi, whilst all the millionaires visiting a casino, to which Raju is taken to, drop random English word meaning to highlight their pretentious attitude. The rich educated women are constantly seen smoking cigarettes and talking in fake phoney anglicized accents. Dialogues like “Hello naughty boy!” “Certainly, how are you?” keep echoing in the background. Here, as in many of the 1950s movies, English is seen as a language used of the insensitive rich. They live in their own elite westernized worlds, far from the real life problems of the working class. Rita Kothari in her essay English Aajkal points out that during this period English was seen as the language of “divisions, creating wedges between people, families, and nations”, hence fuelling the stereotypes that often made permanent imprints on the minds of the viewers by superimposing the divisive nature of a specific character to the universal characteristic of the language in general. Hence most English speaking characters were associated with shallowness in turn making the language shallow.
In the late 1980s English came to be linked with villains and their female sidekicks. The blockbuster hit Mr. India’s villain, Mogambo even had the getup inspired by a British general’s uniform. Dialogues like “Hail Mogambo!” “Jis din vo formula mil gaya, jiske istimal krne se aadami dikhai nahi de, invisible ho jaye…” fills the film’s text. But it should be noted that no high sounding English words were used. Even the little English scattered here and there was explained in Hindi, like the dialogue mentioned above explains the term “invisible”. Hence, there was no hindrance in grasping the final meaning.
The villains and their sidekick girlfriends were even given English names like Robert, Mike, Lion, Michel and Mona Darling. Dialogues like “Robert, smart boy!” “Bloody imposter” were commonly used. These villains and vamps were dressed in western clothes, spoke with an accent, were addicted to smoking and drinking, hence they were everything that the “Indian” heroes and heroines were not. The language the character spoke became his identity and the character became the identity of the language spoken.
But English was not only restricted to characters with serious backdrop, the comedians were given English words and phrases too. Comedy was evoked at the mispronunciation or jumbling or interchanging of similar sounding words. And sometimes high sounding words were thrown around to make the character look ridiculous. But this ridicule too was rooted in the famous conception of how English speakers were themselves oblivious of the high frivolous words but just used it for the sake of ‘appearing intelligent’. This kind of parody can be seen in the famous scene of Namak Halal where the character Arjun Singh, played by Amitabh Bachchan, shows his English speaking skills to his well educated, villainous employer by narrating a cricket commentary which he himself doesn’t comprehend.
“Arre babuji aisi English aawe that I can leave angrez behind. You see sir, I can talk English, I can walk English, I can laugh English, because English is a very phanny (funny) language.”
This mixing of Hindi and English could also be seen in the songs. Some songs were specifically made to ridicule the English language and in turn the character who speaks it. One of such example is the song “Twinkle Twinkle” in the movie Purab Aur Paschim (1970). The setting is of the song is in rural India with two puppets dancing to the song. One is of English speaking memsahib (Preeti) and the other of desi rural Indian boy (Bharat). The song is about the memsahib teaching the boy to sing English carols but he reduces it to an Indian Punjabi version. The song opens with the dialogues between the two puppets as follows:
Boy: Oh Memji
Girl: Yes, my dear..
Boy: Gaana sunau?
Girl: English gaana!
Boy: Oh, mujhe angrezi nahi aati!
Girl: Hum sikhata.. Bolo.. Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are!
Boy: (in fast running tone) Twinkle twinkle little istaar how I wonder what you are!
Girl: Aise nahi, gaa kr, English tune mein, hum sikhata hai… (Song begins)
This song not only lampoons the English language but also the English manners that Preeti has adopted while living in London. She speaks English, wears short dresses, has blond hair, drinks and smokes and so conclusively has completely lost touch with her roots. The language became symbolic of the character and character of the language. The short exchange as mentioned above highlights that she cannot even speak proper syntactic Hindi sentences. This seems to justify the parody song, because people like Preeti need be humiliated in order to make them realise their superficiality and awaken their love for the nation.
This scenario of pitching of Hindi and English against each other changed in the 1990s as the films and audience became more tolerant towards such mixing. Hinglish became a means of a more tolerant coexisting environment. It came to be seen as colouring and branding of a foreign language as Indian. As Kothari notes that such “mixing English and Indian languages came to represent a peculiarly Indian way of being urban” where the dichotomies between the two languages were left behind.
This blend is visible from the titles of the 90s films itself. Films like Bandit Queen (1994), Border (1997), Gupt: The Hidden Truth (1997), Yes Boss (1997), Vaastav: The Reality (1999) hit the theatres. It is believed that the reason Hinglish was able to make such a huge impact in the 90s was because of the introduction of cable TVs with pop music channels like Channel V and MTV. Mahesh Bhatt in Voices from Indian Cinema I shares that originally these channels telecasted their programmes only in English but due to a poor response from outside of metro cities they had it changed to Hinglish. “Once they did that, their penetration into the Indian market went from under 10 per cent to over 60 percent.” (Bhatt, 179)
Also, one of the crucial reasons as to why Hinglish was able to make a dent in the 1990s was because it captured the tension of new open-economic society. India’s new economic policies nurtured new aspirations of the middle class and gave them hope of an easier vertical movement on the socio-economic ladder. All of this was aptly captured by the use of Hinglish in cinema. Films like Rangeela which were made in the initial period of 1991 policy change capture the mood perfectly. The protagonist, Milli, wants to achieve more in life and refuses to be tied down to her poor family background. This desire of wanting more and struggling to reach steps higher on the economic ladder can also be seen in much recent films like Rocket Singh: Salesman of the Year (2009) and Band Baaja Baarat (2010). Here English becomes the language of aspiration. In the movie Phas Gaye Re Obama (2010) small town people join local English coaching classes in the hope of making to America one day. Here America and thus English is seen as the key to success and blissful life. But the parody lies in the fact that these classes are just a sham, selling false hopes to its students. In one of such classes the teacher scolds students as:
“Teacher enter. No notice? Full insulting? You mothers fathers manners, this? (Student: Sir, baat aisi hai…) Speak in English. This English coaching. No local language. (Student: Actually, talk was…) Full stop. (Student: Sorry, sir) Sorry ka baby. You together thinking English speaking like a rice plate eating? No. Never. Huh. Not. English speaking not a children play. English speaking like an Undertaker play. Taj Mahal create. Again time. Careful. Again time this behaviour so touch to my fingerprint you cheek. So big cheek. You cheek. Red-red cheek. Understand?”
Hence in the 2000s English becomes the language of prestige and a key to a life of success and prosperity.
From the 1990s to the 2000s Hinglish came a long way; it was now the language of youth. Hence mainstream commercial films produced in Bollywood, were in Hinglish. In today’s time English has become a part of everyday life. Even Hindi oriented newspaper like Navbharat Times has its front page news in Hinglish (even the name Navbharat Times is in Hinglish). Headlines like “Hotels ka service charge tip hai, dein ya nahi grahako ki marzi” (Service charge in hotels is a tip, it is customers choice to pay or not) “Supreme sawal, PAN ke liye Aadhar zaruri kyun” (Supreme question, why Aadhar is important for PAN) fill such Hindi newspapers every day. This is reflected in cinema too. One of the most powerful youth oriented film like Pink (2016) has its most crucial dialogues in Hinglish.
“No. No, your honour. Na sirf ek shabadh nahi, apne aap mein ek poora vakaya hai, your honour. Isse kisi tark, sapashtikaran, explanation ya vyakhaya ki zaroorat nahi hoti. Na ka matlab na hi hota hai. My client said no, your honour. And these boys must realise no ka matlab no hota hai, usse bolne wali ladki koi parichit ho, friend ho, girlfriend ho, koi sex worker ho ya aapki apni biwi hi kyun na ho, no means no. And when someone says so, you stop.”
(No. No, your honour. No is not only a word but a complete sentence in itself, your honour. It does not require any argument, reasoning, explanation or conjecture. No means no. My client said no, your honour. And these boys must realise no means no, whether the speaker is an acquaintance, friend, girlfriend, sex worker or even your own wife, no means no. And when someone says so, you stop.)
Hinglish, though still carrying some of the past baggage along, yet has taken on a more neutral communicative role than what it had in the early 1950s.
Despite all it is important to look at the larger picture. Languages cannot survive in strict compartmentalised spaces, like fluids they are bound to interact and intermix into one another. The only way a language can grow and be relevant is by adapting the changes of the changing times. Hence this “chutnefying” is a much wider and older phenomenon. All major languages undergo this process to survive. As Gulzar in an interview with Rita Kothari also points out that, “mixing happens between our Indian languages also. You should look at the picture in its entirety, instead of viewing it as a phenomenon concerning Hindi and English alone.” He further explains with an example: “When you say, “Tumhein dekhkar dil nihaal ho gaya”, where does ‘nihaal’ come from? From Punjabi of course!” This mixing of other languages other than Hindi and English is often overlooked or even unrealised, because even the Hindi spoken is not khari (pure) Hindi but Hindustani, a mixture of various Indian languages. For example a film title like Dear Zindagi (2016) does not derive its roots from Hinglish rather it a mixture of Urdu and English. Hence in any society all languages interact with each other at one point or other. Only question remains is whether it will be analysed by a consciously studied phenomenon like Hinglish or unconsciously ignored like the mixing of Indian languages.
Though mainstream Bollywood uses Hinglish as the language of communication in most of its films yet it still remains a language restricted to urban areas. Bollywood chooses to represent only a Hinglish speaking class as the epitome of modernity not only because that is how people in the metropolitan cities (their main target viewership) interact but also because it means connecting to a larger audience for higher economic gains.
Though Hinglish is widely restricted to an urban sector of the society, yet it is definitely here to stay. With the expanse of English as the lingua franca of India, Hinglish is the new Indianized version of the language. Like any other dynamic growing language it has adapted to its surrounding which will surely help it prosper.
Work Cited
Dasgupta, C. (2002) ‘House Full, No Intermission’, in A. Vasudev, L. Padgaonkar & R.
Doraiswamy (eds), Being & Becoming: The Cinemas of Asia. Delhi: Macmillan.
Kishore, Vikrant., Sarwal, Amit., Patra, Parichay. Bollywood and its Other(s): Towards New
Configurations. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014.
Kothari, Rita., Snell, Rupert. Chutneyfying English: The Phenomenon of Hinglish. Mumbai:
Penguin Random House, 2011. Print.
Namak Halal. Dir. Prakash Mehra. Perf. Amitabh Bachchan, Shashi Kapoor and Waheeda
Rehman. Shemaroo, 1982. Film.
Phas Gaye Re Obama. Dir. Subhash Kapoor. Perf. Neha Dhupia, Rajat Kapoor and Sanjay
Mishra. Warner Bros Pictures (India) Pvt Ltd, 2010. Film.
Pink. Dir. Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury. Perf. Amitabh Bachchan and Taapsee Pannu. NH
Studioz, 2016. Film.
Purab Aur Paschim. Dir. Manoj Kumar. Perf. Manoj Kumar, Saira Banu, Ashok Kumar and
Pran. Ultra Distributors, 1970. Film.
Shree 420. Dir. Raj Kapoor. Perf. Raj Kapoor, Nargis and Nadira. R.K. Studios, 1955. Film.