Dear ‘Purists’, Hindi Is Not Being Diluted, It Is Just Evolving

Can we please stop advocating ‘pure’ Hindi language and lamenting its ‘contamination’?

Assimilation of other languages into Hindi is not contamination. (Photo: The Quint)

The Hindi Pakhwada 2016 is underway and not unlike any other year, stoic proponents of the ‘pure’ Hindi language are lamenting the influx of foreign words or words that are not derived from either Hindi or Sanskrit. Though it would be inaccurate to say that this lament of the language purists is merely for show, it’s high time well-wishers of Hindi understood a thing or two.

Firstly, like the Ganga River, Hindi language too picks up local colour and character as its several tributaries flow, branching out into streams, constantly evolving as they assimilate local dialects – Urdu, Farsi and even English – into their own flow.

This assimilation is not contamination, but is precisely what makes the Hindi language so rich, and its scope immense.

Secondly, as literacy spreads through the 11 states that comprise the vast Hindi belt, voters express their desire to understand politics and economic policy in their own language. In times like these, Hindi’s various local dialects come to the rescue, with their easy assimilation of foreign terms. This is particularly evident in regional media.

It’s not a new phenomenon for Hindi to make phrases or words of other languages its own. In fact, it can be traced back to 150 years ago when Bharatendu Harishchandra counted 12 kinds of Hindi in an essay, including bureaucratic Hindi, ‘Hinglish’ and the Hindi of Railways.

Dakhini Hindi poetry has been flourishing for over a century through the works of those like Wali Muhammad Wali.

तेरी भंवां कूं देख के कैते हैं आशिकां/है शाह जिसके नाम चढी है कमान आज | (The bow of your raised eyebrow, my love/ Has made a king of its recipient)

A student practicing writing Hindi. (Photo: iStock)

A Look at Hindi’s Journey Through Space and Time

It would therefore do good at this point to take a historical detour and trace Hindi’s journey through place and time.

After the Devanagari script was standardised at Agra’s Fort William College, a new modern Sanskritised version of Hindi was born.

Pioneering Hindi writers like Bharatendu Harishchandra, Balmukund Gupta and Pratap Narayan Mishra set out in 1860 to search for a Hindi that would be more flexible – one that would be accessible to ordinary people – as opposed to just the scholars of Kashi.  

They were in search of a kind of Hindi that not only contained regional linguistic idiosyncrasies but elements of the Urdu and Farsi from Angrez Bahadur’s reign, as well as the English language.

Until the end of the 19th century, this Hindi made up much of the official syllabus of government schools. It also offered a livelihood to authors of school textbooks, as well as the general publishing industry.

A teacher taking classes at a Hindi-medium school. (Photo: iStock)

Hindi Should Be a Language Free of Arbitrary Rules

Modern day advocates of ‘pure’ Hindi would do well to remember that in Bharatendu’s time, Farsi words like ‘chacha’ (uncle), ‘chahak’ (chitter) as well as Portugese terms like ‘neelaam’ (auction), ‘nazar’ (sight) were already a part of Hindi vocabulary, not to mention the indigenous forms of English words like ‘lalten’ (lantern), ‘aspatal’ (hospital).

The same principle also applies to print media, that evolves not in isolation, but within the shaping force of culture.

Whether politics, economic policy, sports, health or social issues, any reporting worth its salt requires the kind of quick wit and linguistic flexibility that only a language free of arbitrary, stringent rules can provide.

This is the language of the streets and the people, not one that has been straitjacketed into submission by a privileged few. If lovers of the Hindi language truly desire excellence, they must allow the language to take it’s natural course and grow.

Hindi Is Not a Divine Cash Cow

Begrudging excellent Hindi literature, finding faults with the nomination if a writer is rewarded, anonymous defamatory attacks on the writer, withholding royalty for Hindi publications – these are things done by people who claim to love the language, not outsiders.

How then do we expect to be taken seriously by not just readers but investors, publishers and translators? Hindi is not a divine cash cow that will shower untold wealth and fame on us. Our equation with it has been all wrong.  

Writing in Hindi is the only way of achieving self-expression in our own language. Why then do we pretend to be doing Hindi a service?

Shakespeare did not write because he wanted to ‘serve’ English. For the same reason, it is misguided to demand a message for the country or its youth from Hindi writers.

Whatever the writer wants to say is evident in his writing. Instead of looking for the message there, why do we put the writer on the same platform as corrupt politicians and publicity-hungry babus?

Lovingly tended by our ancestors, the ‘intelligentsia’ of today have not spent a great deal of time or effort on maintaining and improving the Hindi language.

This is why they loudly blame the English language and other influences for its degradation. We haven’t been able to prevent it from becoming an instrument in the hands of unsavoury political elements, bent on using it for purposes of exclusion and oppression.  

But if the hold of the elite is slowly eroding from other areas of our life, why should Hindi remain an exception?

The ‘intelligentsia’ of today have not spent a great deal of time or effort on maintaining and improving the Hindi language. (Photo: iStock)

Hindi might appear stubborn and impertinent to us on social media but its youthful energy, usefulness and its refusal to lend itself to fake politeness make it extremely democratic.

The increasing pervasiveness of Hindi, whether in literature, film, social media, business or the market, has expanded the choices available to its followers, which is something to be wholeheartedly celebrated.

Hindi, ever expanding, ever evolving, is showing its democratic dimensions to us, introducing us to its many layers. How can we turn away from this glimpse of a whole magnificent world?

(Mrinal Pande is a senior journalist and writer. She has edited several Hindi texts and journals. The views expressed in this article are the author’s own.)

(This story was first published on 26 September 2016 and has been reposted from The Quint’s archives to mark the day Hindi was adopted as the official language of India.)