You say tomato, I say tamatar

I get a call from an Indian friend, and my accent becomes distinctly Indian. The moment I turn off the phone and speak to a colleague here in London, my accent becomes more British.

If I was on a psychoanalyst’s couch, I’d be told that I have a desperate need to fit in. Hmmm, well I do want to belong. And it’s surely preferable to sticking out like a sore thumb. And I definitely want to be taken seriously at work.

Let’s face it. The way you speak determines what people think of you. Simple as that. You may have the combined brain power of Einstein and Plato. But if you open your mouth and sound like Muthuswamy Iyer fresh off the boat from Chennai – it’s going to be very difficult to get a good start.

It’s unfair. Of course it is. As Muthuswamy Iyer, with a few college degrees under your belt and an unmatched knowledge of the world – you probably are a lot more capable than say  John Smith from Surrey. But if you get judged by how you speak – and you do most often – guess who wins and who loses?

It’s not all bad with an Indian accent. I remember a trip to Paris many moons ago – where my Indian accent received instant approval as exotic. Whereas my English fellow-traveller and his British accent got a cold shoulder and sniffing disapproval. I thought that made a refreshing change. 

It’s not something that only happens in Europe either. I’ve lost count of the number of Bollywood films that poke fun at the south Indian accent. Or the underlying hurtfulness of  ‘idli, dosa’ jokes that most south Indians growing up in cosmopolitan Mumbai are subjected to.

A strong South Indian accent in north India or a strong North Indian accent in the south – neither of those are happy prospects. An American or British accent among your Indian friends is not cool either. Everyone thinks you’re trying to sound posh, even if you’re just asking for a cup of tea.

Maybe this instant judgement based on accents comes from an inherent laziness in all of us.  Think about it. If we can listen to someone and slot them into convenient little pigeon holes, we don’t need to bother to really get to know them.

So the next time my Indian friend laughs at my ‘British’ accent – well baby, I’m just trying to survive here.

And that’s what it’s about, innit mate?