When you hear a college student telling a friend, in a resigned voice, “Sab mohmaya hai (all is illusion),” it is but natural to worry whether he or she is prematurely ageing. But such an apprehension would go in vain. He or she is actually just trying to cheer up a fellow student who has got poor marks in an exam. The friend knows this too. The phrase, here, no more means what it used to mean in its original form. A niche language coined by a group of college students has transformed it. The semantics of the phrase have been ripped apart, and it has been attached to a different meaning. The new meaning of the phrase, though it apparently sounds random, is actually a jibe at the philosophy behind the original meaning. A clever play with words, and rather subversive, one would think. But what is interesting is that the coinage is most likely to be spontaneous rather than knowing. And the college students who have developed this personal lingo are most unlikely to be aware of the semiotic nuances of their creation.

College-goers of all generations impulsively develop a special lingo for communication among people of the same age group, or, sometimes, of the same institution. Of course, this is different for each generation, or, for that matter, for each college. But certain things are common in these quaint coinages. For example, the tendency to distort the meaning of a word or a phrase: sometimes the meaning is reversed. The phrase, “Kono kotha hobe na (there should be no discussion on this)” is used to mean an issue that deserves a lot of discussion. Sometimes, the meaning is altered in a more complex way that brings out layers of hidden connotations (the word “designer” is used by the students of National Institute of Fashion Technology in Salt Lake to mean something disastrous). The ironies of such coinages, as well as the psychological shades they expose, are quite intriguing.

Deeper investigation may reveal other tendencies too. College lingo is noticeably inclined to creating phonetic thrills to make mundane words more exciting. The word “chillax” can be taken as a case in point. It merges the words “chill” and “relax”. The first, conventionally, is a synonym for “very cold”, but has been used by young people to mean “relax” for quite some time now. But “chillax” is a newer coinage. It is curious that two words with similar meanings were joined to make it. Perhaps because they ‘sound cool’ together, or, in more ordinary terms, as they create a phonetic sensation when tied with each other. In this case, the physical pleasure of pronouncing the word is more important than the meaning.

On the other hand, the word “ghyama” is an example of the metamorphosis of college lingo. “Ghyam” was usually a term used by the earlier generation of college-goers to mean arrogance. The present generation has added an ‘a’ to the word and uses it to mean something or someone impressive. Another such instance is the word “pagla”, which the previous generation used literally (to mean “mad”), but the next generation uses to mean “outstanding”. What do these changes signify? It is hard to be specific. But on the surface certain indications exist: maybe someone who was considered pompous at one time is now seen as noteworthy. And the ‘mad’ boy/girl has now become the extraordinary one.

College lingo is similar to formal language only in the fact that it is decidedly dominated by the male psyche. “Behenji” is a popular term used across the country to describe a woman who does not follow the recognized rules of fashion. Again, “jhinku” or “item” are words to describe women whose looks attract male attention. But no corresponding terms are available to slot men into similar categories. Or even if they are, those terms are not popular enough.

Campus-speak often shows socio-political trends of the times. For instance, a few words in contemporary college lingo relate to explosives. Students across campuses use “gola”, a colloquial word that refers to explosion, to express their appreciation for something brilliant. The word “bomm (bomb)” has a similar usage — it conveys excitement over someone or something immensely attractive. It is quite an irony that these words, which would relate to severe violence in their original forms, are used by students to communicate thrill or enthusiasm.

The trend that distinguishes the college lingo of the present generation from that of the earlier ones is a conspicuous penchant for abbreviations. Young people today love squeezing phrases into words, even letters. So “can’t agree more” becomes CAM and “no offence meant” changes to NOM. There is a hoard of these, mostly used in writing text messages. You could construct an entire sentence with abbreviations, and it could arouse the suspicion of the police by being mistaken for coded communication among terrorists. To crack the code, all you need is a few young people from urban colleges across the metro cities of India. These people — even if they come from different cities, speak different languages and have different cultural backgrounds — seem to understand the abbreviated codes perfectly, with no known formal listing available anywhere.

Campus lingo is, in a way, a code language. What could prompt college students to build a different set of semantics for known words? The most obvious reason seems to be that they want to be understood only by their friends and fellow students, and not by the rest of the world. And why would they want that? Most apparently because they would be saying things they don’t want elders, or ‘others’, to know. But a keen observer may discover certain other propensities as well. Sometimes these college groups speak in their ‘in-house’ lingo among ‘outsiders’ even if they are not talking about something controversial. It seems that they do it out of a childish whim, a desire to shock or confuse the elderly and derive a strange satisfaction from it. The urge is not completely logical and neither is it wholly conscious. It is discernible, nevertheless. As Jim Morrison said, “Each generation wants new symbols, new people, new names.” What is more significant, at least as far as word-making is concerned, is that “they want to divorce themselves from their predecessors”. This desire has left its mark on campus language. Words and their speakers here take pleasure in being unintelligible.

Speaking of this inclination, I wonder whether writing this article was prudent after all. My younger brother and his mates, all college-goers, will probably be mad at me for prying into their private world and spoiling the fun. Indeed, no amount of research or thought can explain the whims and fancies of young minds. But if one is to understand the ‘future of India’, a good way to start is by learning its language.