Most languages evolve like rivers: they flow, meander, absorb tributaries (loanwords), and change course naturally over centuries based on how people actually speak. English, for example, is a glorious mess of Germanic roots, French invasions, and global appropriations. But Modern Standard Hindi is different. Its trajectory in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was less like a winding river and more like a deliberate canal project.
While the spoken language of North India (Hindustani) was a seamless blend of Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic, and Turkic influences, the version of Hindi taught in schools today—Manak Hindi or Standard Hindi—was, in many ways, “retro-engineered.” It was a conscious linguistic project designed to distill a distinct identity by reaching back thousands of years to Sanskrit.
The Fork in the Road: Khari Boli
To understand how this engineering happened, we have to look at the raw material: Khari Boli. This was the dialect spoken around Delhi and Western Uttar Pradesh. By the 1800s, this dialect served as the backbone for two developing linguistic registers:
- Urdu: Written in the Perso-Arabic script, heavily borrowing higher vocabulary from Persian and Arabic.
- Hindi: Written in the Devanagari script, looking toward Sanskrit for its higher vocabulary.
For centuries, the line between these two was blurry. A market trader would settle a deal using words from both sources without thinking twice. However, during the colonial era, language became a proxy for religious and national identity. To establish Hindi as a separate, prestigious national language distinct from the Urdu dominated by the courts, scholars decided they needed to “purify” the vocabulary. They didn’t look forward to new inventions; they looked backward to the Vedas.
The Mechanism of Revival: Tatsama vs. Tadbhav
The primary tool for this linguistic reconstruction was the concept of the Tatsama. In Indo-Aryan linguistics, words are generally categorized into three main buckets:
- Tadbhav (“Born from that”): These are words that originated in Sanskrit but evolved and changed phonetically over thousands of years to become easier to pronounce.
Example: The Sanskrit Hasta (hand) became the Prakrit Hata, which ultimately became the Hindi Haath. - Videshaj (“Born abroad”): Loanwords from Persian, Arabic, Portuguese, or English.
Example: Since there was no everyday word for “lawyer”, Hindi speakers adopted Vakeel (Arabic/Urdu). - Tatsama (“Same as that”): These are the “engineered” words. These are terms lifted directly from classical Sanskrit textual sources and dropped into modern Hindi without phonetic modification.
Example: Re-introducing Hast into formal writing to sound more dignified than Haath.
The 19th-century movement, led by figures like Bhartendu Harishchandra (often called the father of modern Hindi literature) and later the Nagari Pracharini Sabha, aggressively favored Tatsamas. They aimed to replace common Videshaj words, which were seen as having “foreign” influence, with Sanskrit equivalents.
The Search and Replace Operation
This wasn’t just about adding new words for modern technology; it was often about replacing existing, commonly understood vocabulary. If the street word for “book” was the Arabic-derived Kitaab, the formal Hindi word became the Sanskrit Pustak. If the common word for “world” was the Persian-derived Duniya, the literary demand was for Sansaar or Vishwa.
This process created a fascinating linguistic stratum. It meant that everyday Hindi speakers had a “low” variety for home (mixed with Persian/Arabic words) and a “high” variety for school and news (Sanskritized).
Engineering a Vocabulary: Case Studies
Let’s look at how this retro-engineering changed the lexicon. The goal was often to find a root in texts like the Ramcharitmanas or the Rigveda and repurpose it for modern concepts.
1. Politics and Administration
When India became independent, it needed a formal administrative language. The Perso-Arabic terms used by the Mughal courts (and subsequently the British) were deeply ingrained. Words like Adalat (Court) or Kanoon (Law) were known by everyone.
However, the new Standard Hindi opted for heavy Sanskritisation:
- The Prime Minister became Pradhan Mantri (Chief of Ministers/Counselors).
- The President became Rashtrapati (Lord of the Nation).
- Foreign Affairs became Videsh Mantralaya.
These words were intelligible because of their roots, but they marked a sharp departure from the lingua franca of the time.
2. Science and Academia
Perhaps the most difficult challenge was scientific terminology. How do you say “photosynthesis” or “gravity” in independent India? Rather than adopting the English terms (as Japanese often does), Hindi scholars constructed new compound words using Sanskrit mechanics.
Gravity became Gurutvakarshan. This is a compound of Gurutva (heaviness/mass) and Akarshan (attraction). It perfectly describes the physics, but it is a mouthful compared to the organic evolution of language. Consequently, while these words exist in textbooks, most Hindi speakers today will simply use the English word “Gravity” in conversation. This highlights the gap between “engineered” Hindi and “natural” Hindi.
The Impact on Learners and Linguistics
For a student of language, this history explains the phenomenon of Diglossia in Hindi. Diglossia occurs when a community uses two distinct varieties of the same language.
If you learn Hindi solely from Bollywood movies, you are learning a version heavily spiced with Urdu (Persian/Arabic roots). You learn that “love” is Mohabbat or Ishq. But if you then open a Hindi newspaper or listen to a formal speech, you will encounter Prem or Anurag. You might hear a politician described not as mashhoor (famous – Arabic root) but as vikhyat (famous – Sanskrit root).
This retro-engineering has created a spectrum:
- Urdu: High Perso-Arabic content.
- Hindustani: The colloquial middle ground (Bollywood, street markets).
- Shuddh (Pure) Hindi: High Sanskrit (Tatsama) content.
Identity Through Etymology
Was this engineering successful? In terms of creating a standardized national identity, yes. It provided a linguistic bridge that connected Hindi to other Indo-Aryan languages like Bengali, Marathi, and Gujarati, which also draw heavily from Sanskrit. A Bengali speaker might struggle with the Persian word Siyasat (politics), but they will instantly understand the Hindi Rajneeti because the Sanskrit roots are shared.
However, it also created a language that can feel artificial to its own speakers. When Hindi news anchors speak, they often use a vocabulary that no one uses at the dinner table.
The story of modern Hindi is a reminder that language isn’t just a tool for communication—it’s a museum of history and a weapon of identity. By reaching back to the ancient past to engineer a modern future, Hindi scholars didn’t just clean up the language; they fundamentally altered its DNA, creating a fascinating linguistic duality that continues to challenge and delight learners today.