CHENNAI : Have you ever heard the term chutnification? Coined by Salman Rushdie, in the book Midnight’s Children, Indians have long used a metaphorical blender, grinding up words — present, past and nonsense — and using the essence to create new ones with a personal tinge — aka chutnefying. Humans create words, phrases, codes and much more, with families, chosen or blood-bound, friends, and colleagues, which gives them agency to construct systems of intimate language. In this whirring blender, we require a blob of comfort, a pool of vocabulary, and a dash of humour. Terms and conditions applied: this blender spins out evolving words only at places we feel and call home.
Vocabulary mirrors our experiences and words are tangible thoughts that ferry us through our daily lives. Mother tongues are political, a mere word denoting caste, class, or location. Regional languages lay at the centre of debates and are often the subject of struggle and freedom.
Beyond this, while the Indian sub-continent has recorded 398 languages, several words and phrases escape easy classification. Language captures the soul of communities. In Chennai, some words may not enter the pages of hefty dictionaries but fill our daily lives — from kedi (known as shady but has its roots in the criminal category ‘Known Dacoi’), chumma to yappa. There are peculiar words used by many Malayalis including soaping, which means when someone tries to sweet-talk you, or in Hindi, chaddi-buddy refers to friends you’ve known since you were in underpants.
On International Mother Language Day — which aims to promote linguistic and cultural diversity and multilingualism — we document invented languages, and lingo created by merging different bashais, and words in mother tongues beyond textbook definitions.
Slangs, colloquialisms
Language is constantly evolving, and words we use are a dead giveaway to the cities we grew up in, and the kind of homes we come from. What happens when two languages collide, and become a new kind of lingo or neologism? Do mother tongues not involve the nonsense words, shared utterances and loving nicknames we create?
Writer Nitika Krishna’s daily vocabulary is sprinkled with a fusion of Tamil, Kannada, and English slang. Her list includes ‘chumma don’t put scene da macha’, ‘oof’, the common ‘sim-simply’ and ‘sum-sumne’. As she says, “Memories are aplenty as these slangs and words have been around me since I was little. Growing up in a melting pot like Bengaluru has allowed me to appreciate the many linguistic flavours it profers. All these words invoke a sense of unparalled nostalgia in me,” she says.
No Tamil or Malayali household escapes from the fy-phenomenon. Nitika’s family interchangeably uses ‘thookam’ and ‘thaachi’ for sleep. “While the first does not get bludgeoned by the “ing”, the second sometimes becomes ‘thaachiying’. There’s ‘kaachifying’ the paal. ‘Ootifying’ food to someone,” she says. As for Kochi-native Rekha Joly, her go-to words include ‘konjify’, extreme love towards someone, almost like you are a baby.
In Puducherry, Anishiya Premi M’s grammar, like many in the Union Territory, is peppered with French, bearing years of colonial rule while subverting their dominance on language by Tamilifying the word. “In our town, when middle-aged men meet someone familiar on the road, they call out ‘missiye’, raising a hand in the air. That’s a mispronounced French word, monsieur meaning gentlemen or sir,” she says. If something is deemed ugly, their adjective would not be nor yuck or chee, but ‘koshom’, which is a variation of the French word, meaning pig, she adds.
Inventing language, inventory of words
Across history, writers have experimented with language to expand the boundaries of words and how we see worlds. From George Orwell’s chilling Newspeak in 1984 to George RR Martin’s Dothraki in A Song of Fire and Ice, new lexicons have liberated us from the shackles of strict regimes or simply created a wave of new writing. In the Book of Nonsense, British writer Edward Lear’s limericks were filled with ‘nonsense’ utterances from words including runcible, dolomphious, and borascible. Inventing new syntax is not confined to the minds of erudites but this creative bug bites everybody; after all, vocabulary is dynamic and incredibly arbitrary.
Philosopher René Descartes once wrote, “I think therefore I am”, here, we may tweak it slightly and say, “I create, therefore I am.” For graphic designer Nidhin, their mother and they constructed a language, rearranging syllables, becoming a language only two of them share and understand. “For example, chappathi becomes ‘chathappi’, panchasara becomes ‘champasara’, kadala curry becomes ‘lakada curry’, etc. Everyone else is clueless as to what these words are meant to be or think they are gibberish. I’ve had much more intimate and closer relations with many other people over the years, but this language never crossed from the space between me and my mother to anyone else,” Nidhin adds.
In Philip Victor’s house in Kerala, made-up words stem from spaces in the domestic sphere. For instance, on the off-chance that nature’s call has not yet arrived, a common query on his father’s side of the family would be: “chittappan vanno? ithuvare vanille?” (Uncle hasn’t come yet?). As for the bathroom, it was referred to as the ‘Appisthaan’. “When my brother and I were kids, we would spend a lot of time in the bathroom, reading comic books like Balarama and Baalabhoomi. Every time I ask my mom “Where has appa or chettan gone?” she’d say with subtle anger, “Where else could he be, he has gone to ‘Appisthaan’.” Another word that made the rounds in Philip’s house was ‘ammathadiyee’. “Whenever my dad gets up, from a difficult position, he says the word ‘ammathadiyee’ due to the exertion of force to stand up. This word can be looked at as the combination ‘amma’ and ‘thadi’ which means fat. As a child, I used to keep wondering why he was referring to my mother’s fat whenever he was struggling to get up. Later, I learned ‘ammathadi’ also means thaay thadi. Here, thadi means the best quality wood that is used for the foundational structure of houses, because it needs to be strong and supportive like a mother.”
Words transcend time and their meanings shapeshift through generations, leaving only a sliver of their etymologies. For instance, abracadabra has entered the vocabulary of magicians and seeped into colloquial usage, yet its roots can be traced to a mystical word used as a charm to ward off illness, according to the Oxford Dictionary. Throughout history, phrases like black dog, a blue funk, in the dumps or slump have been bywords for depression, and continue to be modified. Often, language isn’t enough and we rely on nonsense words or neologisms to attempt to replicate the emotions flitting through our heads or searing our hearts. And for those yearning to define and find the idea of home or identity, look no further than language. As poet Czesław Miłosz wrote, “Language is the only homeland.”
Making sense of nonsense
Tamil
Simpaandi: A person who simps (Suriya)
Lord labakku daas: What a big fellow you are (Varun)
Assault matter: Not a big deal (Varun)
Peter: Word to denote someone who speaks in English too much (Archita)
Nadu centre: Central centre (Geevee)
But-aana: But (Geevee)
Sigappured: More than red. Example: “Amman Kovil ponen na orey sigappurend ah irunduchu” (Geevee)
Takknunu: Suddenly happened in a blink (Anishya)
Inventory
Pattachi: Originates from a person named Pattachi who would say no when someone is offering food but go on to eat still (Anushree)
Gaba-Gabayi: Extremely hungry (Anushree)
Jigi-Jigi: Gaudy, fancy (Anusree)
Impreekandi: A name for tiny things (Arsha)
Malayalam
Chaarify: When you want the door to be left ajar (Sathyavak)
Scene contra: Situation becomes unfavourable (Anisha)
Kola maas: Ultimate showstopper (Anisha)
Shashi aayi: When someone’s pride is punctured (Anisha)
Thakkuddu: A term of endearment for a loved one, mostly used for children (Ancy)
Paappam: Food (Diya)
Vaivi: The last bit of food you keep aside for the sheer pleasure of keeping it on your tongue for a longer time (Rekha)
Kannada
Kobbu fellow: Someone who talks big but falls short when it comes to delivery (Naaz Ghani)
Kacha pucha: Dirty (Naaz)
Rajkumar: Someone who acts too smart (Naaz)
Feeling bisi bele bath: Feeling all over the place (Supriya)
- Archita Raghu, Anusree PV