Forget the political toadyism and pretty much all the prattle-prattle around the gender-neutral honorific—ji. I have grown up in the heart of Lucknow, punctuating almost everyone’s name with the suffix out of sheer politeness, as the adab is accorded to everyone there still—from commoners like us to premium figures. Like Shukla ji ki chaat, Sharma ji ki chai, Gupta ji ke dahi vade... and now Yogi ji and Modi ji. More than the memes, it kind of brings in the ch’i, an underlying hush of respect.
Contemporary grooming sessions shape up tonal inflexions, but it is the addition of ji that makes all the difference. Ask in an inquiring tone to build a polite query, adhere to the Punjabi way of speaking by latching to coin haan ji, or simply double up in that rather annoying habit as ji ji to echo the affirmative.
That’s what we do, repeat the same word to strangle and emphasise: in “little details”, “big big houses”... Anyway, back to the ji. It is subtle affixation that makes your point sound louder than bombs, but scathing enough to slide in the right connotation. I remember while gunning for each other’s jugular, fighting, we three sisters used to accuse each other wildly, with furious eyes but mouthing ji with our respective names to establish rancid annoyance too. Even the local tailor was then addressed as Master ji, our teachers as Guru ji. That was fine. Then sidled up the saccharine Saheb ji and Sir ji—catchphrases of utmost servility—and spun commercial catchwords for a cellular major, then and now.
Nowadays people slap on ji as a colloquial embrace around almost every act of buffoonery, and more: Baba ji ka thullu, Aao ji, Jao ji. The Hindi sitcom Bhabi Ji Ghar Par Hai! too spun a moolah-take on the oft-used Bhabi ji. I remember cracking up when actor Akshay Kumar referred to the singer as Snoop Dogg ji in an interview promoting one of his movies. The same template just doesn’t work for firangs a la Joe ji, Putin ji...
Undeniably, adding ji brings in a sense of respect, endearment, and singles out the listener for sure. I always suspected the superfix happened with surnames including Madhavji, Chatterji, Bannerji... as a phonetic elevator. Pounding it to pulp made jee sound rather demonic a la the cruel chompers in JEE (tests). Snooping and a bit of dexterous sleuthing reveal the term ji stands rooted in the Sanskrit word jivatu, the source of all life. In Telugu, it means flowers, in Chinese (in keeping with the tranquil Indo-China relationship) gleaming spear, and look no further, ji is a popular name and surname in Korea (Ji Chang-wook, anyone?)
In my mind, ji is a beautiful tool, if used skillfully, bereft of sycophancy. It can smoothen ruffled feathers, pat egos and breathe life into rusty relationships, curing situations in a second when flavoured with a smile. Aapka khayal, ji?
me@shilpimadan.com