By Khalid Hasan Had George Orwell spent time in India rather than Burma, he would surely have produced a classic essay on English as she is written and spoken in these parts.
In his famous essay, Politics and the English Language, which everyone who writes or speaks English must read for everlasting enlightenment, Orwell urged the reader to send "worn out and useless" phrases or "verbal refuse" to where they belonged, namely "the dustbin." He cited examples, among which he listed phrases such as Achilles' heel, hotbed, melting pot, acid test and veritable inferno.
In tribute to the master, I would like to add to his list, each item added being a runaway Pakistani (and indeed Indian) favourite.
If I am able to persuade even five men or women, good and true, to come no closer than a mile of these phrases, I am sure it will bring a smile to the lips of George Orwell, who is surely in heaven drinking a just rightly-made cup of tea.
(May I also recommend his brief primer on how to make a good cup of tea.) Now the list of zombie phrases, the English language's living dead, who are alive and kicking in Pakistan: add insult to injury, all and sundry, snail's pace, axe to grind, beat a dead horse, befitting manner, bite the bullet, bite the dust, blessing in disguise, bone of contention, bored to tears, brains and brawn, broad daylight, brown study, brook no delay, brute force, burn the midnight oil, by hook or by crook, chalk out (plans), coveted honour, crucial need, dire warning, each and every, easier said than done, eschew, espouse a cause, every nook and cranny, exemplary courage, exhort, fishing in troubled waters, flying colours, food for thought, foregone conclusion, foreseeable future, glorious past, golden opportunity, grind to a halt, goes without saying, guiding spirit, head over heels, hour of need, Herculean strength, in real fact, in respect of, in the nick of time, insofar as, last but not least (which always appears as last but not the least), by leaps and bounds, leave no stone unturned, miscreant, more than meets the eye, mouth watering, naked aggression, nip in the bud, out of the blue, Pandora's box, pillar of strength, pioneer spirit, pioneering role, pluck up courage, rule of thumb, scribe (for writer or reporter), seriously consider, strongly condemn, selfless commitment, shining example, sincere tribute, sour grapes, strict adherence, sworn enemy, spouse, lion's share, ball in the court of.
., fact of the matter, question as to whether, thick as thieves, thick of battle, tireless efforts, tower of strength, utmost importance, war footing, win kudos, with respect to, Yeoman service and so on and so forth (which, by the way, is also a clich‚).
Before I move further, let me reproduce George Orwell's seven rules (I almost said golden): (i) Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
(ii) Never use a long word where a short one will do.
(iii) If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
(iv) Never use the passive where you can use the active.
(v) Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
(vi) Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.
The maestro wrote, "I have not here been considering the literary use of language, but merely language as an instrument for expressing and not for concealing or preventing thought...
If you simplify your English, you are freed from the worst follies of orthodoxy...
Political language...is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.
One cannot change this all in a moment, but one can at least change one's own habits, and from time to time one can even, if one jeers loudly enough, send some worn-out and useless phrase - some jackboot, or other lump of verbal refuse - into the dustbin, where it belongs." My friend Mohammad Rafiq once said that every piece of English writing in Pakistan reads like every other piece.
To that I add that phrases and idioms long dead are used without thinking.
It is automatic writing, something executed while sleep-walking.
It gives no delight, causes no surprise, does not make the reader sit up and almost never brings a smile to his the lips.
It is heavy, laborious and boring.
As if all that was not enough to slay the English language, the dime a dozen (I admit it is a clich‚) TV channels have executed the coup de grace .
In a single swoop, they have achieved the impossible: murdered both English and Urdu.
Not one among those whose mugs we see and whose voices we suffer is a Zia Mohyeddin, that perfect speaker of both English and Urdu.
The language they speak is an illegitimate amalgam of bad English and even poorer Urdu.
It is clear that they are innocent of both.
I hold our newspapers equally guilty.
On January 4, 2001, on the eve of a South Asian summit in Kathmandu, a report printed in an English language newspaper (not the Daily Times) said that the Nepalese government had "officially sought pardon on arrest and release of a Pakistani diplomat in baseless case of possessing fake currency." The diplomat, the report said, "reached home after performing duty in the embassy.
However, staff members of the Pakistan's Embassy foiled the well drawn plan under which India media had been informed well before the raid on the residence of Pakistani diplomat .
When the diplomat was on his way back to home on his scooter after performing duties in the Embassy," he was asked by two policemen to stop.
"When he complied the orders and go down of his scooter, they whisked him to the police station.
On this Siraj [that being the fellow's name] started arguing and resisting his arrest but they did not hear him.
In the police station, an inspector asked the police cops to get removed his jacket.
On this a police constable claimed recovering fake Nepalese currency and fake dollars from one the pockets of his jacket." Siraj was then marched home by the police "where his spouse on noticing police informed wife of a private assistant of the Pakistani ambassador about arrival of police.
The wife of the private assistant phoned to Pakistan Embassy and apprised the staff of the incident.
On this staff members of the Pakistan Embassy who were locked in preparatory work for the summit meeting immediately rushed to Siraj house where they demanded release of their colleague but police adopted hegemonic approach." This was six years ago.
I am sure Siraj is now an ambassador, and I expect to see him posted to Washington next.
As for the reporter, I better say nothing.
He may have become an editor.
*(Khalid Hasan is a senior Pakistani journalist-columnist hailing from Jammu and Kashmir based in Washington).
-(Courtesy: The Friday Times)