Mission 2014: Word Porn

Mission 2014: Word Porn

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Dude 1: Yo Bro! U C Brian’s new Phablet? WTF rite? Absol derp move. I mean srsly, I wanna vom. Look @ dat piece of shit! Wat a douche bag.

Dude 2: Whateves.

Dude 1: Obvs, wat cn u expect 4m a hippie? He cudn’t last more dan a min w/out squeein bout it on Twit. YOLO it seems, my ass.

Dude 2: Totes.

Dude 1: BTW, nice jorts in ur DP. I was lik OMG wen I saw it. Epic. Sm1’s getting better @ selfies? *insert nudge wink emoji*

Dude 2: Tnx.

Dude I: Newez. Hav a food baby ‘cuz of mama’s del lunch. Gotta slp. Byes.

Dude 2: b4n.

If you managed to comprehend the above conversation without squinting, squirming or even remotely barfing, you’re either an inordinately fanatical juvenile who literally (and I mean LITERALLY) communicates thus on a daily basis, or you’re a parent to an inordinately fanatical juvenile who literally (and I mean LITERALLY) communicates thus on a daily basis.

I recently set out on a mission to learn at least two new words every day. I’m sure nerd, geek, dork, dweeb and spod are some of the words that come to your mind right now. Yes, frankly I would have thought so myself and would have made it my life’s mission to ridicule the person who proclaimed something like that, had it been a few years ago; a few years ago when you could read an article on the internet without having to check onlineslagdictionary.com every few minutes; a few years ago when you could have a decent conversation with someone in English and not Hinglish, Tanglish or a mind-numbing combination of the above; a few years ago when reading books was an addiction and not a hobby. Before nostalgia takes centre stage, I think now would be ideal to tell you why I dared to take up such a challenge.

After I left the confines of my school 7 years back, I’ve had the ‘privilege’ of experiencing the Chennai life for most parts afterwards. You need to understand here that I was educated in Vellore in a Christian institution, where it was sacrilege to even casually talk to someone in Tamil while in the school premises. It didn’t help that that was when I was introduced to Star World and BBC News. This process eventually reached a stage where I was more fluent in English than in Tamil and I gagged more than once trying to pronounce words like ‘Shashtyabdhapoorthi,’ ‘Ekkaduthangal‘ and “Apithakuchalambal.”

For 13 years, I blissfully soaked in British English, often frequented by Shakespeare and Alfred Tennyson. Then I walked into Singara Chennai and I was exposed to a life where talking in English warranted derision. I was branded as ‘Peterrr’ which is slang for “someone who often displays his/her English linguistic skills, much to the displeasure of others around.” My colleagues stared at me uncouthly the moment I began to express myself in a language even mildly resembling English. Any defense from my side meant that I was iconoclastic. Slowly, I accustomed myself to this pathetic state of affairs and I restricted my English speaking desires strictly to my school friends. Life moved on.

A year or so back, when I was texting a friend of mine, I suddenly realised that not a single word in that text was in English; unless of course you consider ‘Machi’ or ‘Babe’ as English. When I tried to remember the last time I had a conversation in English, I got a mishmash of a headache and a mild heartache – I couldn’t remember when. Revolted, abashed, ashamed and mortified don’t even begin to describe how I felt. I mean, would you forgive someone in India if he says he doesn’t like cricket? Same feelings.

Ever since then, I’ve made a sincere effort to revive the lost art of communicating in one of the most fascinating languages one might possibly come across and I must admit that it’s been a success. Till a few months back. In this process of trying to be English language’s Erin Brockovitch, I began to notice the sheer volume of slangs being used of late, most of which are eventually incorporated in the Oxford Dictionary for reasons beyond my comprehension. I am embarrassed to admit that even I use a significant number of ‘LOLs’ and ‘Obvs’ to the extent that it can be termed as suffocating. And thus began my mission to learn genuine new words, even if it meant liking a page called “Word Porn” on Facebook.

Unlike a few decades back, today, anyone can understand and express what they feel in English. Or rather, in what they think is English. But the fact remains that we underrate and belittle the power of this language and its potential in representing precisely who we are, with little or no effort from our side. We live in a global village today and I believe what differentiates between good, better and exemplary is our ability to express something in a casual yet classy comportment. For this to have an impact, it has to be effortless. For it to be effortless, it has to be a part of us. That can happen only if we put in that extra effort and go beyond believing that internet reading is sufficient to hone our vocabulary.

I am aware that this isn’t one of my usual merry-go-rounds in the sarcasm genre but it is something that I feel and care deeply about. Nothing has changed about me. I still believe in Murphy’s Law and I cry myself to sleep every night because chocolate might soon be a thing of the past. Nevertheless, put down your tablets or smartphones or whatever the hell they are called these days and read a good book once in a while. The pleasure you derive from that is inexplicable. If you're still not convinced, would it help if I say from experience, never underestimate the seductive power of a decent vocabulary?