THE CLICHE AND INDO-ENGLISH FICTION

 

DR. QAISER ZOHA ALAM

 

            C. P. Snow coined the phrase “corridors of power” in his novel Homecomings. In the author’s note to his novel which he interestingly named Corridors of Power, Snow tells us that the catchy phrase was picked up and used by journalists and reviewers so many times that it turned into a cliche. When Snow was charged with using a cliche for a title, he retorted, “If a man hasn’t the right to His own cliche, who has?” Snow’s consolation was that at least he had used his own cliche. A cliche is “a hackneyed phrase or expression which a writer keeps ready stock set up in his mind and puts down automatically without troubling to find an original phrase of his own” (Wood, 1962. 47). The fact, however, remains that the phrases of this nature, as Wood, too, has emphasized, “should, as far as possible, be avoided” as “at one time they may have been forceful; now they are stale and ineffective”. Vallins (1960. 103)  talks of “the sterile lifelessness of a cliche.”

 

            What needs to be added here is that even native writers of English have not been able to avoid cliche altogether. This, for example, is a sentence from W. Somerset Maugham’s novel Cakes and Ale (p. 24): “When all’s said and done, that’s the only thing that counts.” The phrase has been used by Mulk Raj Anand in Two Leaves and A Bud (p. 91), by Khushwant Singh in Train to Pakistan; by Arun Joshi in The Strange Case of Billy Biswas (p. 50), The Apprentice (p. 80), and The Last Labyrinth (Pr. 202, 203) and by Uma Vasudev in The Song of Anasuya (p. 71). There is little doubt that it is not possible to shun the cliche completely. They come handy and readily to a writer and, as many believe, sometimes add flavour to a writing. Crystal and Davy think that the occasional cliche is a feature of the informality of a text (1969, 114). Fowler (1968. 9) feels that writers would be needlessly handicapped if they were never allowed to choose certain expressions – they are perhaps the fittest way of saying what needs to be said. Fowler quotes J. A. Spender: “The hardest worked cliche is better than the phrase that fails.”

 

            When Sheila says, in Arun Joshi’s The Foreigner (p.149), “Time is a great healer”, Sindi argues – “However deeply one might feel, it always boils down to a cliche, a proverb from high school grammar”. Joshi apparently confuses between a cliche and a proverb. A cliche can usually be traced to a definite author, while the latter is just as often anonymo (Pei, 1953. 144). Undoubtedly, however, many proverbs, due to gross overuse, have turned into cliches and in this study we do not intend to make any sharp distinction between them. It should also be borne in mind, at the same time, that the judge­ment whether a certain expression is a cliche or not is often a subjective one. While analysing R. K. Narayan’s “A House and Two Goats”, (1978) Rao quotes the phrase “live, flourish and die” and says “it is not as much of a cliche as it appears; there is an unsuspected, seemingly endless agony between flourish and die”. Pei (1953. 143) notes that the ancestry of the cliche “is nine times out of ten literary, even though it may have entered the universal spoken language”. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats and Kipling, etc., for example, have been fruitful sources of cliches for the English-speaking world.

 

            The point that I would like to make in this study is that Indian writers in English sometimes do not exert to find a novel or original phrase. Instead they prefer to make do with some prefabricated or conventional overused “Pat” expression. Singh (1977. 185) finds it not unusual to come across cliches in their writings. One possible explanation and the one that we would like to make forcefully here is that the presence of these cliches in their writings can be explained, to some extent, when we bear in mind the fact that English is not their first language. When we adopt L2 or a foreign language at the creative level we are perhaps more prone to confront such difficulties as we are often bookish and our vocabulary is anything but vast though, to assert once again, even the native speakers are faced with these obstacles. In fact, “some commentators on Indian English have noticed an excessive use of cliche.” (McCrum, Cran, MacNeil, 1986). Chitre (1978) observes that “diseased English (quick-frozen, ready to use English) is normal English in India and the official English, very widely used in India, is the deadliest form of diseased English. Nambiar (1978) also stresses that a characteristic feature of Indian English as presented by earlier British writers, is the presence of cliches: When Nergia Dala (1978) reviews Pramilla Bharat Singh’s The Reluctant Bride (Sterling) she finds it full of cliches (Times of India October 22, 1978).

 

            I would like to make my point particularly with the help of illustrations borrowed from the representative fictional writings of Indian writers in English (on the basis of random sampling).

 

            Though Raja Rao’s writings are relatively free from cliches we occasionally do get instances like “to tell you the truth” [Kanthapura, p. 20]. One comes across “to tell the truth” in Ved Mehta’s Delinquent Chacha [p. 110], Joshi’s, The Strange Case [p. 132], Uma Vasudev’s The Song of Anasuya [p. 3] and Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children [p. 114, p. 301]. Mulk Raj Anand’s writings are interspersed with cliche-like expressions, e. g., the conventional phrase “wonder of all wonders” [Coolie p. 31] and phrases “going to the dogs” [Coolie, p. 126; also in R. K. Narayan’s The Guide, p. 180] and “he had missed the bus” [Coolie, p. 262]; “waxing philosophical” Two Leaves and a Bud, p. 18; “waxed eloquent” in Narayan’s The Guide, p. 154 and “wax poetic” in Joshi’s The Strange Case,)” he­ felt like a fish out of water” [Two Leaves and a Bud, p. 26] “at a standstill” [Two Leaves, p. 29], “discretion is the better part of valour “ [Death of a Hero, Anand, p. 13], “under the thumb of his father” [Death of a Hero, p. 59], “hitch our wagon to the Maharaja’s fading star” [Death of a Hero, p. 74 ; also in My God Died Young, Sasthi Brata, p. 147]. Anand evi­dently uses various kinds of cliche. Cowasjee [1976, p. 59] quotes a passage from Anand’s Two Leaves and concludes that the passage is full of well-worn cliches.

 

            The same goes for R. K. Narayan whose favourite phrase is the Siamese twins “odds and ends [Swami and Friends, p. 32, p. 195; The Vendor of Sweets, p. 25, 119, 158]. “Odds and ends” appears to be Joshi’s pet expression, too, because he has used it both in The Foreigner (p. 162) and The Strange Case (p. 62). “Odds and ends” has also been used by Abbas in Maria (p. 47). Talking of Narayan’s Swami and Friends, it has “by any chance” (p. 44), “the servant beat a hasty retreat” (p.44) “ drove home the point” (p. 51), “half a mind” (p 88), “Right O” (p. 90), “more easily said than done” (p. 129) also in The Strange Case, Joshi, (p. 65, “in the pink of health” (p. 141), “nip this tendency in the bud” (p. 152), “stereotyped question” (p. 169) and “he is a gem” (p. 173) Swamy and Friends is Narayan’s first full-length work of fiction and that perhaps explains why it contains a fair sprinkling of cliches. Of the “big three”, Narayan perhaps uses more of such expressions and some of them have been used again and again. One of the possible reasons may be that simplicity is the hallmark of Narayan’s style. The following are some more examples from Narayan’s works:

 

            “To make a clean breast of it all” (p 109), “like a bolt from the blue” (p. 147), “cleared out” (p. 205) and “bag and baggage” (p. 205): The Guide. “cleared out” and “bag and baggage” have been used again in his The Bachelor of Arts (p 117.) “A fault-finding mood” ( p. 22), “a stone’s throw” ( p. 29 ), “where there was a will there was a way” (p. 112) and “out of sight out of mind” ( p. 144 ): The Bachelor of Arts. “Thus far and no further” (p. 144) and “for reasons best known to them” p. 153 also,) in The Sung of Anasuya, Uma Vasudev, (p. 35); A Tiger for Malgudi. “Best chum” (p. 6), “ravages of time” and “a whit lost” (p. 42); My Days. “stick to the point” (p. 27), “It goes without saying” (p. 61). “go straight to the point” (p. 139), “you have beaten about the bush” (p. 139), “unheard of” (p. 143), “go to hell” (p. 147) and “from time immemorial” (p. 164): The Vendor of Sweets. “serious blunder” (p. 57): The English Teacher.

 

            These are from Malgonkar’s books:

 

            “Rank and file of the spectators” (p. 9), “the stormy petrol” (p. 36), “putting the clock back” (p. 89), “all told” (p. 125), “beaten them to pulp” (p. 178) and “paled into insignificance” (p. 267): A Bend in the Ganges. “At breakneck speed” (p 16), “made good his escape” (p. 365), “call it a day” (p. 111) – Spy in Amber.

 

Kamala Markandaya:

 

            “In the twinkling of an eye” ( p. 25), “next to impossible” (p. 180): Nectar in a Sieve. “Umpteen babies” (p. 49), “umpteen servants” (p. 200 ), “all and sundry” (p 45), “at her wit’s end” (p. 76), “cat’ll be out of the bag” (p. 208), “she felt she was on fire” (p. 218), “cry over spilt milk” (p. 233) and “at the end of the tether”: Two Virgins (“near the end of the tether” in Joshis The Strange Case). “Needless to say” (p. 1, p. 14, p. 21, p. 43), “born and brought up” (p. 15), “few loose ends still to be tied” (p. 20) and “out of the question” (p. 21): Possession.

 

            A possible explanation as to why Raja Rao and Markandaya [though “needless to say” is her pet expression] use fewer stock phrases and formulae may be that both of them have been away from India for long.

 

Arun Joshi’s writings:

 

            “For no accountable reason” [p. 25], “much aplomb” [p. 36], “some big shot” [ p. 40], “to do the needful” [p. 65, p. 146], “the long and the short of the story” [p. 66], “way your tongue” [p. 114], “dirty linen” [p. 79], “head over heels” [p. 91], “gone haywire” [p.92], “cooked up this cock and bull story” [p. 204]: The Strange Case of Billy Biswas.

 

            “In an uncertain terms” [p. 25], “talk of the town” [p. 31 ], “something is better than nothing” [p. 42], “to cut a long story short” (p. 60, p. 107), “the pros and cons of a case” (p. 65). “in a nutshell” [p. 68], “axe to grind” [p. 71]. “out of the ordinary” [p. 110], “by hook or by crook” [p. 113] – an instance of Siamese twins, “rise to the occasion” [p. 117], “in due course” [p. 118] The Apprentice “Pain in the neck” [p. 113]: The Last Labyrinth.

 

            In Anita Desai’s books we get uses of this type only few and far between. In her Voices in the City, however, we get “ivory tower” [p. 201] and “lull before storm” [p. 226] etc. Bhabani Bhattacharya has used “played his cards well” [p. 28], “article of faith’ [p. 19], “first things first” (p. 34) “like a bombshell” (p. 34) and “life’ is a game of cards” (p. 79) in his So Many Hungers! And “the less said the better” (p. 39) in Shadow From Ladakh. In addition to a number of items of this nature, Khushwant Singh’s Train to Pakistan carries “crystal clear” and his I Shall Not Hear the Nightingale” who is to bell the cat” [p. 27]. Ahmed Ali’s Ocean of Night carries “build castles in the air” [p. 123]. Santha Rama Rau’s The Adventuress has “I’ll keep my fingers crossed” [p. 74] and “in love and war, all’s fair” [p. 168] and Sasthi Brata’s My God died Young “they’ll hit the bull’s eye.” We find “facts and figures” [p. 68], “took it for granted” [p 69]. “classkal joke” [p. 74] and “like deadwood” in Nayantara Sahgal’s Storm in Chandigarh and “best possible investments” [p. 98] and “throwing money down the drain” [p. 98] in Saros Cowasjee’s Goodbye to Elsa. “Suffice it to say” [p. 35] and “out of the blue” [p. 141] in Uma Vasudev’s The Song of Anasuya, “as luck would have it” [My Story, Kamala Das, p. 82], “nobodies” [The Girls from Overseas, Nergis Dalal, p. 24], “more often than not” [Beyond Punjab, Prakash Tandon, p. 71], “irregular hours” [p. 124] and “to top it all” in “The Mixed Metaphor” [in Keki Daruwala’s Sword and Abyss] are some more interesting examples from these writings. It may not be out of place to mention here that Chinua Achebe has used “as luck would have it” twice in his short story “Uncle Ben’s Choice”.

 

            Many similes found in these writings are indeed “mere cliches with very little life left in them” [Vallins, 1960, 44] e. g., “she is like a sister to me” [The Guide, Narayan, p. 78] “you are as a sister to me” [Kanthapnra, Raja Rao, p. 37], “she was still as stone” [The Strange Case Joshi, p. 62], “the cool words hit him like a blow” [ p. 5], “he was impetuous, like a boy” [p. 91] and “for sometime he would live like a king” [ p. 161 ] in Bhattacharya’s So Many Hungers! “his fingers were like ice” [p. 373], “I am going to stick here like a glue” [p. 350 ], “money was spent like water” [p. 21] in Malgonkar’s A Bend in the Ganges and “the room is an oven” in Desai’s Voices. The devotees in Narayan’s The Guide held Raju “as if he was a baby”. The touch of the hand was likened to a flame in Markandaya’s Two Virgins and Malgonkar’s A Bend in the Ganges. The so-called “stabilizers” like “as a matter of fact” (The Strange Case, p. 73) are not uncommon either. It goes without saying that they appear stock and trite and are in use on a large scale and often indiscriminately in India and generally have a first-to-hand quality about them. Perhaps they help the writers present the goings-on a little more realistically and spontaneously.

 

            Wood (1962, 47) has roughly classified the cliche into seven broad divisions. It is interesting to note that we get examples of all these types in the Indian writing in English.

 

i) Conventional phrases or expressions:

 

            “the evening of the life” (Storm in Chandigarh, p. 5)

            “by leaps and bounds” (Storm in Chandigarh, p. 61)

            “wheel of time” (Death of a Hero, Anand, p. 26)

            “jaws of death” (Death of a Hero, p. 84)

            “for all practical purposes” (Maria, Abbas, p. 45)

 

ii) The Conventional Adjective:

           

            “Golden promises” (Two Leaves and a Bud, Anand, p. 6)

 

iii) The Conventional Verb:

 

            “the engine screamed” (Coolie, p. 174); “he shepherd­ed them” (Storm in Chandigarh, p. 47); “the sentry barked” (A Bend in the Ganges, p. 182 ). The humanizing use of the verbs “hissing” and “stabbing” seems to be very common with them.

 

iv) The Conventional Adverb:

 

            “The fire was blazing fiercely” (Nectar in a Sieve, p. 56) “Sheepishly” is in very common use in these writings.

 

v) Circumlocution:

 

            “the edge of her tongue was like a pair of scissors” (i. e. ‘Talkative’) – (Untouchable, Anand)

 

            “We have only a loin-cloth width of land” (Kanthapura, Raja Rao, p. 179)

 

vi) Vogue words:

 

            “movie” – “a Bargman movie” (The Strange Case; p. 95); “fellow-travellers” (A Bend in the Ganges, p. 355), ‘jet’ – “jet of water” (Ocean of night, p. 62), “jets of white stream” (Voices, p. 5); “electricity” “electric current” – (Ocean of Night, p. 45), “electric shock” (Maria, Abbas, p. 43); “Valve” is another vogue word to be found in these writings again and again.

 

vii) Hackneyed and Pointless Similes:

 

            “My old servant had not understood the purpose of my wanderings but had remained at his post like a dutiful Casabianca” (The Foreigner, Joshi, p. 352)

 

            “They were all staring at him making him conscious of their fear and hatred, like characters in some dance drama” (A Bend in the Ganges, p. 132)

 

            “They just gazed at me, as I have noticed Indian village urchins gazing at a passing elephant in our villages” (“Bosanski Novi”, Kaa Naa Subramanyam)

 

            Indian writers in English have not been evidently very success­ful in avoiding these hardened set phrases or cliches. Ullmann (1966, p. 166) would like the writers to rejuvenate the set expressions and infuse new life into them. It would be perhaps not a tall claim that now and then our writers have been able to do so. It is satisfying to note that in these writings cliches on the surface do not always reflect deeper cliches of thought. The sincerity of most of them can hardly be doubted. May be the oral tradition and the actual speech habits, often replete with cliches, get reflected. The learners of English in India are taught during the formative period, idioms, phrases and sayings, etc., so seriously and diligently that they often become an inte­gral and essential part of their linguistic repertoire and keep making appearances in their speech and writing.

 

            As we know, an attempt has been made, often unconsciously, to remedy the situation, at least to some extent, by taking resort to Indianisms, With some reservations, we approve of many of them though, in any case they should not be overdone. Some of the verbs and phrases introduced by Mulk Raj Anand, for example, are perhaps instances of over-doing. If the writers go on taking liberties with the language in this manner the result may be ridiculous. Instead of saying “nip it in the bud”. Raja Rao, in a characteristically Indian way, has said “crush in the seed”. Money has been frequently used for comparisons. Also there are often hyperbolic numerical assertions – “The saying is worth a hundred thousand rupees” (Train to Pakistan, Khush­want Singh). Let us cite a few more examples from Indian fiction in English:

 

            “As long as he is there, no one can harm a single hair of my head.”

 

            “Where does your wealth reside, Babu Sahib? My poor home is in Jhelum district.”

 

            “Does my lap bite you?”

           

            “No one can stop anyone’s mouth.”

 

            “Have you not mother or sister in your home?”

 

            “drinking water out of the same pitcher.”

 

            “Don eat my head.”

 

            “bread of illegality.”

 

            “your good name.”

 

Back