If language is a
constantly flowing river, then the words spoken in Assam have always flowed
with two strong currents, namely, heritage and change. In the 1990s, a
Guwahati kid’s day hummed with “jolpan” and “suburi,” “STD/PCO
booth” and “pen friend”. Today, the same city shrieks with “reels”, “streaks”
and “DMs". And meanwhile, “Rongali Bihu” becomes “Bihu vibe” in Instagram
captions!
This is the story of
how vocabulary, and with it, worldviews, shifted for Assamese kids from the 90s
to today.
In the 90s, a
vocabulary of nearness existed. The 90s lexicon was tactile, clear and local.
It smelt of wet earth after a “boroxun” (downpour), tasted of “til
pitha”, "kaata nimki" and “laru,” and rang with
words passed around by cousins and neighbours. The daily life of
fossilized specimen like yours truly was filled up with words like
“aita” (grandmother), “koka” (grandfather), “aajori”
(leisure), “godhuli” (twilight), "jopona" (bamboo
fence), “ketia ahibi?” (when will you come?), “tumar ki khobor?”
(how are you?), etc. Our “chatrooms” were verandahs where cousins and friends
huddled during "boroxun" drenched evenings , telling each
other stories of ghosts found on bamboo trees and railway crossings. Festivals
implied “Bohag Bihu", “Magh Bihu", “husori",
"mahalaya", “jetuka", “gamosa", “sador-mekhela",
etc. There were limited words for playtime and technology.
"Hetaali", “ghorial-paani", “luka-suri",
"dark-room", “xerox,” “doordarshan,” “chitrahaar/rangoli,”
“VCR,” “walkman,” “trunk call" and "telephone" encompassed
almost everything. And the evergreen warning from Deuta who was a
father and not a friend - “TV iman deri sale sokur power barhi jabo!”
(If you watch too much TV, your eyesight will worsen!)
As far as schools and
social interactions were concerned, “head sir", “copy” (notebook),
“tiffin", “moral science", “essay competition", "siyaahi",
“pen friend”, "postcard", "greetings-card" and "abeli
ekeloge saah khuwa" sufficed. A typical 90s conversation at Pan Bazar
was real-time, with words like "adda", "charminar/Wills'
filter", "saah-singra", "matinee show" and
"dighol benir suwalijoni" filling the air. In short, words
invited us to places and there were people we could touch - “namghar”,
"pothaar", “pukhuri”, "baideo", "khura-khuri",
“amoi-tawoi”, etc. Our “Google” was either an elder cousin, a nosy
neighbour, or an “Pehi” with a sharp tongue and a sharper memory. Information
traveled in stories, letters, and the neighborhood grapevine, and the
vocabulary was anchored in proximity.
Now everyone is
accustomed to a vocabulary of elsewhere, and everywhere! Today’s Assamese youth
toggles between Assamese, Hindi, and "internet" English with
the same thumb used to flick through reels. Life is now digitalized with “reels",
“shorts", “DM", “DP,", “streaks", “spam",
“unfollow", “ghosted", “seen-zoned", “low-key",
“aesthetic", “FOMO", “IRL", and the compulsory footnote -
"don’t forget to like, share, subscribe".
One is not considered
"to belong" if he/she is not well-acquainted with gaming and
net-speak - “OP", “GG", “noob", “AFK", “sus",
“nerf", “clutch", “bot", “NPC", etc. There's also the
pop-culture shorthand which includes innocent words like “stan",
“ship", “canon", “cringe", “vibe", and “era".
Now, it's another story that neither Wren and Martin nor Oxford can help you
interpret the "modern" meanings of these words!
Ed-tech and career
goals are now incomplete without “mock test", “gate pass",
“coaching", "dummy school", “portfolio", “internship",
"presentation" and "con-call". And then there's the
local remix! “Bihu vibe on", “jolpan pe brunch", "Naamghar
fest", “Borbow's aesthetic ghila-pitha", etc. are some
such remixed samples. This vocabulary is elastic and borderless. It compresses
emotion into emojis, adds speed with acronyms, and stitches Assamese culture to
global platforms.
Assam’s new superpower
is "switching" languages at "bijuli" (lightening)
speed. Assamese kids today blend languages rather than switching them. In a
Nalbari classroom, in a Silchar café, in a Guwahati boutique or in a
Jorhat coaching center, we hear cocktails of Assamese-English-Hindi. For
example, “Sir, ajir test mock ne real?”, “Eta vibe ase Bihu
husorit, reel bonau niki?”, “Bachelorette party miss korilu bey, major
missing!”, etc. This isn’t confusion but it is a performance. A little like
husori itself where everyone adds their beat, but somehow it works.
And this code-switching
is not laziness because for today's kids, it’s literacy. It signals identity
(local roots), mobility (national fluency) and reach (global memes). The 90s
prized correctness, while today prizes fitness; the best word for
the moment, regardless of origin.
Sometimes I wonder what
drove the shift. As I see my Gen Alpha offsprings, I realize that it all began
when screens replaced streets. Where 90s kids learned “kut-kut” and
“cricket” from friends in alleys, today’s kids learn “GG” and “clutch” from
streamers. Vocabulary follows the arena of play. With the increasing influence
of English-medium and the mushrooming coaching centers aided the
expansion of English-medium exam ecosystems, academic words like “mock,”
“syllabus coverage,” and “portfolio” gradually edged into daily conversations.
Also, OTT, K-pop, IPL
fandom, and tech-savvy Assamese creators made local speech internet-ready. “Naam”
and “borgeet” now sit comfortably next to “lineup” and “collab". Parallelly,
the smartphone compressed the world into our pockets. Alien words rushed in,
and now “DM", “streaks", “unbox", “trending",
“algorithm" and "Pp" are familiar entities.
So, I wonder what we
gained and what we risk losing. Without an iota of doubt, today’s kids
can narrate a Uruka night with global idioms. Their speech is quick,
witty and meme-aware. A single “Magh Bihu vlog” can ferry Assamese words like “dheki",
"bhela-ghor", “tekeli pitha" and “sunga"
to Tokyo, Cairo, Mumbai, Queenstown and Manila. Creativity has reached
new heights with hybrid slangs and punchy lines; sample this one, “Bohag
Bihu = peak vibe, no cap".
On the flip side, the
roots are loosening. When “husori” becomes only “content",
rituals risk becoming props. There is a definite shrinkage of
vocabulary at home. Words like “khar", "luthuri",
“joha", “jiyori", "kaaniya", “okamila”
or “pukhuri” can fade if they don’t surface in everyday talk. Also,
there's increasing listening loss - acronyms speed up speech but can bog
down nuance. “GG” cannot carry the same warmth as “bhal khelila” (“you
played well”).
So, how do we carry on
from here? I feel that the answer is not to scold kids back into the 90s, but
to equip them adequately to carry both worlds, by creating biliterate,
bi-cultural and brilliant future generations. Assam can model a future where
heritage and hashtags reinforce each other.
Can the local words be
made viral? Or will it be okay to narrate a story with one old word a day at
the dining table? Schools can hold events like “Assamese Word of the Week” contests
or organize short skits mixing Assamese "fokora-jujona"
with modern plots. In playbooks, creators can add subtitles in Assamese
and explain dialect gems (Goalpariya, Kamrupi, Jorhatiya or Barak Valley
flavors). The river of language flows on, wider and faster, carrying old words
into new mouths, and new words back home from afar.
Language in Assam has
not lost its soul. Rather, it has gained a stage. Today, language
changes flavour like tea, depending on how you brew it. Our task is
simple yet urgent - keep feeding that stage with the taste of “akhoi aru
hurum", the rhythm of “husori" and the warmth of “Aita-Koka".
Let the kids keep their “OP” and “GG.” Just make sure they never forget how to
say “Nomoskar! ahisu dei", and mean it.
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