FLUENTLY UNFLUENT: THE INDIAN ENGLISH STORY

A Legacy Beyond Language

English in India is more than just a language — it’s a colonial legacy, a class marker, and a daily dilemma. This essay explores how Indians use, adapt, struggle with, and increasingly, own this complex tongue.

THE CLASSROOM COMPLEX – FLUENCY MEANT PRESTIGE

Born in post-colonial India, many of us grew up with English as both a necessity and a status symbol. We admired those who spoke it fluently, and somewhere along the way, began measuring our own confidence by our command of it. I still remember how, in school, a classmate was nicknamed "Oxford" simply because he spoke English without a pause. No one ever asked what he said, only how.

WINDOW TO THE WORLD – LEARNING IT THE HARDWAY TO SUCCEED

For most Indians, English is the window to aspiration, success, and global recognition. Yet, it is also a language inherited from colonial masters, wrapped in layers of complexity, cultural displacement, and subtle inferiority. Unlike native English speakers who learn it with the ease of familiarity and cultural fit, Indians learn it through a curriculum, corrections, and a constant subconscious translation from their mother tongues.

LOST IN TRANSLATION – OUR NATIVE TONGUES DICTATE THE LOGIC

That subconscious translation creates its own chaos. We’ve all seen sentences that start with "Myself Ramesh..." or the awkward overuse of words like "prepone" or "do the needful" — phrases that sound uniquely Indian but cause raised eyebrows overseas. They make perfect sense to us because they follow the logic of our native languages. And yet, they don't belong to standard English.

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT – CULTURALLY DIRECT

One of the striking aspects of Indian English is the contrast in expression styles. Indians, shaped by a socially expressive and hierarchical culture, tend to use strong, assertive language. It is not uncommon to hear phrases like "I strongly oppose" or "This is absolutely wrong" in debates or essays. There is comfort in certainty and a cultural preference for firm positions. A friend once submitted an essay abroad where he ended every paragraph with a forceful conclusion. His professor commented: "This reads like a courtroom, not a conversation."

THE DIPLOMACY DIVIDE – POLITICALLY CORRECT

Contrast this with the Anglo-Saxon style of communication, which is diplomatic by design. In those societies, being direct is often perceived as impolite. Hence, ideas are framed with caution: "I am inclined to think...", "There may be some merit in...", "It would seem that..." These are not mere linguistic flourishes but reflect a worldview that values nuance, emotional restraint, and political correctness.

INTENSITY MEETS SUBTLETY – MAYBE MEAN YES

In India, we are emotionally upfront. We praise strongly. We criticize strongly. When we speak English, we carry that intensity. But English, especially in its British form, prefers an understatement. The result? We often come across as either too aggressive or too meek. Neither suits us, but both reflect our struggle to find balance.

CAUGHT BETWEEN CULTURES -VARYING LOGICS

This divergence creates friction when Indians try to write or speak in "proper" English. The structure of thought, the flow of ideas, and the tone expected in English communication often clash with how we think and express in our native languages. That’s why many Indians, even after years of formal education, struggle to write a simple, flowing essay on non-technical subjects. Not because they lack intelligence, but because their minds are caught between two cultural logics.

WHERE WE SHINE – WHERE WE HAVE GREATER OPPORTUNITY TO OUTCLASS

Interestingly, we excel when the rules are clear and absolute. Indian children have famously dominated spelling bees in the United States. Why? Because spelling has no grey zones. There is no need for diplomatic language or cultural calibration. You either spell the word right or you don't. It's pure logic, pure memory, and pure mastery. And in that space, we thrive.

LETTERS AND LIMITATIONS – SCREW UP NUANCED SOUNDS

This also explains why many Indians prefer to write their native languages in the Roman script. It’s not a love for English letters but a matter of convenience. The keyboards, the speed, the familiarity. Yet, in doing so, we often sacrifice the sound richness and phonetic accuracy our native scripts offer. Roman script, with just 26 letters, cannot do justice to the nuanced sounds of Indian languages. As someone who types effortlessly in Hindi using Roman letters, I still feel the disconnect — a kind of compromise that modernity demands.

THE FEAR OF ENGLISH – LIMITS RESPECTABILITY

And while we freely play with Hindi or Tamil words in our speech, we hesitate to do the same with English. Perhaps it's a subconscious colonial hangover. Perhaps it’s the fear of being wrong. Even today, many Indians hold native English speakers in subtle awe. Not as openly as before, but enough to second-guess their own fluency.

A native English speaker once told me Indians use "would have been" too much. And maybe we do. But it also reflects how we hedge, not to be impolite, but to get it right. We want our English to be not just correct, but respectable. And that’s the true post-colonial burden — to be fluent, but always a little afraid.

CONCLUSION - FINDING OUR VOICE

Still, times are changing. Indian English is no longer a borrowed coat. It is becoming its own style — full of hybrid expressions, desi metaphors, and unapologetic confidence. We are slowly making English our own, with humour, punch, and yes, even a touch of rebellion.

So yes, we may be "fluently unfluent," but in that paradox lies the evolution of a language — and a nation unlearning its awe, one confident sentence at a time.