A for Astrology, J for Jugaad… The vocabulary of India

(NOTE: The article was published in the INDIA TODAY edition dated August 20, 2007)

Just how united are we as a nation? Not much, as any national survey will tell you—except when it comes to cricket and cinema—but there is an alphabet soup of oddities, personalities and characteristics that are common to all Indians, things that identify us all as one race, one people even if we speak in a few thousand different tongues. Here they are in alphabetical order.

A is for Astrology, an all-India obsession. Marriages, births, deaths, jobs, examinations, elections, selections are all governed by our unrestrained belief in the legion of astrologers who decide the fate of millions of lives every day. Never mind if they get it wrong, our faith in the position of the stars remains as unshaken as a bureaucrat’s job.

B is for another kind of star, Bachchan, living proof of the efficacy of anti-ageing products. The Big B has captured the national psyche like no one else in Hindi cinema. The entire country prayed for his recovery after a life-threatening incident and he has returned the favour by praying at every major temple in the country ever since, possibly explaining his nation-wide appeal and God-like status. B is also for Baksheesh, the palm grease that is the required lubricant for getting ahead in life. It also helps raise the living standards of millions of cops, politicians, contractors and bureaucrats. It also is for Black Label, without which your social status in India is zero.

C is for Chaat, the ubiquitous spicy roadside snack and the great Indian leveller. Everybody, CEO to commoner, gathers round their friendly neighbourhood chatwallah in culinary camaraderie, proving that golgappas are more binding than most other symbols of patriotism. Also for Cricket, the only sport that has a national following except following a series of defeats or defeat in a series, as is evidenced by the sight of products actually being endorsed by non-cricketers. Also stands for Cow, that animal held in such reverence. The original sacred cow, it explains why there are more bovines on our roads than cars.

D for Dosa, that crispy south Indian specialty that has acquired an all-India fan following and rivals any other cuisine in popularity and availability. In the process, it has made vegetarianism a palatable alternative. D is also for Dhaba, the highway eatery that serves such robust fare, even if some dishes may taste like they are cooked in axle grease.

E for Effluent, the stuff that is discharged into our rivers with unceasing regularity, making them among the most polluted in the world. Also for Eh!, that crude exclamation which means nothing but is used by all Indians as a substitute for ‘what’ or ‘whatever’? It may sound more like an abuse than a query, yet it continues to dominate our conversations from Kashmir to Kanyakumari.

F for Fireworks, the kind that made Sivakasi famous and have turned most Indians into closet arsonists. We set them off on every possible occasion, from winning elections, to marriages and (male) births, cricket victories to festivals. Fire, of course, is a potent Vedic symbol which explains our agnostic fixation with the big bang or, for that matter, anything going up in smoke.

G for Gold, the stuff that every Indian covets and hoards like, well, gold. Indians are the biggest buyers of gold in the world since an individual’s personal wealth is determined not by money in the bank or under the bed, but the gold they have stashed away. The glitter will never fade.

Also for Graffiti, the “Bunty Loves Bubli” type inside a heart, which is scrawled across our historical monuments and heritage buildings. Defacing public property is a national time pass for lovers who confirm the adage that like love, ignorance is bliss.

H for Hinglish, that hybrid of Hindi which is not just peculiar, but peculiar to India. Hinglish translates phrases directly from Hindi, like “slowly-slowly”, or words like “pre-pone” or the classic “full and fed up”. India is the only country where people “air-dash” to their destination. As they say, we are like that only. H is also for the Headshake, another uniquely Indian practice which entails shaking one’s head from side to side when the headshaker is actually conveying a ‘yes’, a habit that causes considerable bewilderment and confusion when in conversation with foreigners.

I for Indian-Chinese, that culinary bastardisation that adapts Chinese cuisine to Indian tastebuds by adding Indian spices and curry. From Bangalore to Bhatinda and Barabanki, millions of “Chinese” restaurants with Indian or Nepali cooks churn out a unique variation of Chinese dishes. Mao may have said, “Let a thousand cauliflowers bloomâ€æ” although he never dreamt that they would be used to create dishes called Chowmein or Chicken Manchurian, which no Chinese worth his ajinomoto would touch with a chopstick.

J for Jugaad, or quick-fix improvisation, in which any kind of machinery or motor part can be made to work by using any material that comes to hand, including chewing gum. In politics, used to describe an artful compromise or as precursor to toppling an elected government. Also stands for Joint Family, which is not a hippie commune but the extended Indian family all clustered under one roof to save money on rent, food and electricity bills.

K for Kulhar Chai, the kind that comes in earthenware cups and has a unique flavour. It’s something that all Indian travellers are addicted to, apart from it being bio-degradable.

L for Lassi, the incredibly refreshing drink made by blending yoghurt with water, salt and spices or other flavours until it looks like shaving foam. In Punjab, it is drunk in such copious quantities that some shops even churn it in a washing machine!

M for Mythology, which governs millions of lives even today. It forms the bedrock of Indian culture and religion but it does often create a schism between belief and scientific reality: examples being the milk supposedly drunk by idols of Ganesh which created mass hysteria and, more recently, the Ramar Sethu episode which entails the belief in a God-made bridge between India and Sri Lanka. Of course, there are no greater myths than the ones floated by politicians and their sycophants, but the less said about that the better.

N for Noise, something we specialise in. We love making a noise, whether it is honking horns, shouting across the room at colleagues, playing loud music in houses or cars, or yelling at our servants. Indian cricket fans are the noisiest in the world, no matter where the venue. We live to be heard. In fact, for many of us, our lives are a scream.

O is for Overloading. Hit any highway and trucks, tractors or trolleys groan under a weight they were not designed to carry. It’s the same with our buses and trains, with passengers happily perched on the roof. Of course, they may be happy because they are travelling for free, but overloading remains a popular national pastime: just look at the size of our state and Central cabinets.

P for PCOs, those ubiquitous booths that connect India like nothing else. Also for Pakistan, that pesky neighbour which truly unites India in times of heightened tension or war, as in an Indo-Pak cricket match.

Q for, well, Queue. Maybe it’s the herd instinct in all of us, but whether it’s for school admissions, ration cards, restaurants or film tickets, Indians are forced to form queues, of a sort. Safety in numbers could be one reason but even in the corridors of power, there will be endless queues of people waiting to see everyone from the minister to his PA and an even longer one to see the clerk who carries the files from one office to another. In fact, Indians require so many clearances for things that should be theirs by right, that a majority spend half their waking lives standing in the most unruly queues.

R for Railways, that behemoth transport system, among the largest such systems in the world, which ferries some 15 million passengers every day to each nook and corner of this vast country. No other system caters to such a large segment of India’s unwashed, teeming masses, all with their bedding rolls and bottles of home-made pickle, where caste, creed and community are all united in an epic journey. No other place offers a microcosm of India under one roof as the heaving innards of a second class compartment does.

S for Signage, another uniquely Indian spectacle which often defies language, grammar and punctuation. On the highway, trucks will flaunt the universal message “Ok Tata, Horn Please”, which makes some convoluted logic but only to the painters. Autorickshaws have taken it a step further with their own brand of philosophy, mostly to do with unrequited love, while shops have perfected the art of literal translation, as in the tailor shop which has a sign saying: “Suiting, Shirting and Panting”. S is also for Sari, that innovative female garment which can hide—or expose—a multitude of sins, while it also stands for Shrines, those roadside appendages that appear as if by magic, with a small covered area, a gold-coloured garland and no ownership, but where every passerby will stop to pay obeisance. Finally, S is for Spitting, another habit that is as filthy as it is unhygienic but is done with such impunity by many, and with such alarming frequency that it’s a wonder the country is not knee-deep in paan-stained gunk.

T for Tiffin Boxes, those aluminium containers, some a few storeys high, which carry lunch for millions of working Indians and schoolchildren. The tiffin carrier has lasted from the days of the Raj and still survives unscathed, despite the onslaught from more contemporary receptacles. In most parts of India, the sight of dhoti-clad workers dodging traffic and skipping over potholes clutching their precious tiffin boxes is as common as it is comical. Yet, nowhere is it more a part of the city landscape than in Mumbai, where the famous dabbawallahs ferry millions of them across the city, come rain or shine, with such precise timing and efficiency that it is now the subject of a Harvard study. Tis also for Tendulkar, the little big man whose performance on a given day can rattle the Sensex and cause a million argumentative Indians to go into a collective frenzy of analysis and debate, even depression.

U for Unpunctuality, another annoying but common Indian habit. Why Indians wear watches is anybody’s guess since they can never arrive anywhere in time. Official functions start well after the appointed hour because some VIP woke up late and left schoolchildren standing in the sun for hours; appointments and meetings are shifted and rescheduled with gay abandon; and in keeping with that trend, even trains arrive and depart well past their scheduled time. Easily the most common symptom of this contagious disease is dinners or cocktails. Arriving late for a party is a sign that you have a busy social life, even if you have come straight from your own house. To arrive on time is to commit the gravest of social sins, leading to immediate elimination from invitation lists.

V for Vedic, the ancient Hindu philosophy that still governs the lives of millions of Indians. The Vedas are an integral part of all religious or auspicious functions, carrying a religious sanctity that overrides any piece of official paper. Vis also for Verification, a process inherited from the British and still extant, wherein your entire life, from birth to death, is spent explaining who you are, where you were born, what caste you are, what is your father’s name, your occupation, residence, family and marital status and innumerable other minor and meaningless details that officious policemen and clerks will then spend their entire lives verifying. V also stands for Virgin, a physical condition that is so coveted and desirous, especially before marriage, that newspaper matrimonials frequently feature the phrase “virgin widow”.

W for Wedding, that great Indian tamasha that cannot be matched for scale, size, extravagance and expenditure anywhere else in the world. Lasting for days, sometimes an entire week, Indian weddings have become a bizarre mix of social statement, financial worth, one-upmanship and showmanship, where the real purpose of the occasion, the marriage of a young couple, somehow recedes into the background and the solemn marriage vows are drowned in the din of the bhangra beat. The ultimate irony: instead of gifts for the bride and groom, the ultimate status symbol is the gift that comes along with the gold-leafed wedding invitation. For Indians, inveterate status-seekers, marriages are truly heaven-sent.

X for Xerox Centre, as ubiquitous as PCOs and ATMs. ‘Xerox centre’ also happens to be a nomenclature peculiar to India. Every shop or booth that offers photocopying facilities calls itself a ‘Xerox centre’, even though Xerox is a registered brand name and the photocopying machine being used could be of an entirely different make. Though Xerox is now universally used as a term to mean a copy, Xerox centres are not, except in India.

Y stands for Yoga, that ancient Indian practice that combines spirituality, discipline and good health, among other desirables. In recent years, it has gone global with a vengeance and in India made a remarkable comeback, with yoga classes and television channels growing in number and popularity. It has made superstars of yoga teachers like Baba Ramdev while other experts have acquired celebrity status in the West. It’s all a question of positioning.

Z for Zero, the number invented by an Indian mathematician, and it also stands for Zero Tolerance, something increasingly witnessed among Indians, especially in the cases of road rage reported almost every day. Zero tolerance is also increasingly to do with the Indian voter, who keeps dumping one government for another (except in the two Communist states), with little to show for his/her efforts except rickety coalitions, which is where this article, appropriately, began.

(The article was published in the INDIA TODAY edition dated August 20, 2007)

Subscribe to India Today Magazine