Aiyoh, this is new!

Ratna Raman

THE evolutionary processes of languages imitate those of living species.  Languages in power control the swim of words, cannibalising words and expressions they come in contact with, rather like large fish that swallow smaller fish and phyto-planktons. The word most recently appropriated by the English language and made part of its vast collection is the Tamil expression  ‘aiyoh’. In fact, the ‘h’ at the end of aiyoh is silent. Arguably, word collectors at OED have given this ethnic Tamil word a French tweak.

Aiyoh has been an integral part of  spoken Tamil for a very long time. The exodus of the Tamil people from the southern state brought exotic foods from Tamil Nadu to the North  and provided countless instances of Tamil tongues grappling with hard sibilant sounds in the Hindi language.  Under little pressure to learn any of the languages of the South, resident North Indians delighted in imitating and caricaturing the sounds and  speech patterns of  communities from South India, clubbed together by the umbrella term, ‘Madrasis’.

From Bollywood, the expression ‘ai-yai-yo’  quickly  catapulted into street lingo that could be hurled as taunts,  while referring to  anyone from South India. Asha Bhosle and Mehmood in Do Phool (1973) stretched the word into song with ‘Muthukodi kawadi hara, aiyyo da-aiyyo, muthukodi kawadi hara’ as catchy gobbledygook (meaningless words). The comic pair sang of a love involving forbidden acts, while dressed in southern costumes against a coconut palm framed backdrop. Although it was a remake of a Tamil film, it  did little to add to the limited comic stereotyping of the word aiyyo. 

In fact, along with aiyyo, the expression ‘ingede po’ also formed part of the taunt lexicon. A week after my child was admitted in a preschool in the 1990s,  a teacher informed me that there was a  communication  problem,  because her ‘ingedepo’ was not understood by anyone else. 

Substantial opportunities for ‘linguistic chauvinisms’ (belief in the superiority of any particular language) continue to be available in India when traditional speakers of  any language shift to a new geographical address. ‘Aiyyo’, once used by perfect strangers on Delhi’s streets has now been replaced by newer ‘catch phrases’ ( in this case, associated with specific communities) that are churned out at regular intervals in the  underbellies of   burgeoning (proliferating) cities.

 The ‘ululation’ (wail, howl)  ‘ai-yai-yo’ is used to voice strong emotions of grief, anxiety, horror or shock. ‘Ai-yai-yo…I never expected this,’ could indicate a badly made meal, severe ill-health, natural or man-made mishaps, substandard material, unpredictable weather and  political  or personal instability.

Conventional speakers of Tamil often begin an entire range of conversations while using the versatile aiyyo, which has a broad-spectrum  application and is used to express  disgust, pain, weariness, reluctance, protest and even comic resignation.   

How will sentences sound in English when begun with ‘aiyoh’? ‘Aiyoh, why doesn’t anyone answer when the doorbell rings?’ (weariness); ‘Aiyoh…amma, I’ve twisted my ankle (pain); ‘Aiyoh…appa, how did this mishap  occur?’ (alarm); ‘Aiyoh, if no one else wants it, I am stuck with it’(resignation).

There may never be an ‘aiyoh’ moment for users of English. However, speakers of Tamil can now unabashedly bring out their ‘aiyohs’.