Why Foreigners’ Broken Hindi Is ‘Cute’ but Indian Accent Is Mocked
Riya Kumari | Feb 20, 2025, 15:06 IST
So, let’s talk about the elephant in the Zoom call: the Indian accent. You know, the one that magically transforms a PhD holder into an extra from a sitcom’s bad “tech support” joke? The accent that somehow makes even the most brilliant insights sound, to some, like they should come with subtitles?
There’s something unsettling about the way people react to an Indian accent. Not the obvious reactions—the teasing, the tired call center jokes, the exaggerated impressions—but the subtler ones. The slight shift in expression, the change in tone, the unspoken assumption that what’s being said must be explained more clearly because of how it sounds. It isn’t about comprehension. It never was. Accents are judged not by their intelligibility but by the weight of the people who carry them. Some accents enter a room with authority; others are expected to stand outside until called upon. A British accent is respected, even when it’s incomprehensible. A French one is charming, even when it’s broken. But an Indian accent? It must prove itself. Again and again.
This isn’t a debate about clarity—it’s about perception. English, despite its claim of global inclusivity, has an unspoken caste system. A system that has little to do with grammar and everything to do with who has historically held power. When an accent comes from a place that once ruled, it is sophisticated. When it comes from a place that was ruled, it is comic relief.
Why does an Indian scientist’s English need to be “neutral” to be respected, but an American tourist’s Hindi—no matter how butchered—is instantly met with admiration? Why does a Western accent allow for mistakes, while an Indian one must be precise to be considered fluent? The playing field was never level; it was drawn with borders that favor one side.
The Indian accent carries centuries of history, and history, as we know, lingers in ways we don’t always admit. Colonialism did not just take resources—it dictated which voices would be heard. English was never just a language; it was a passcode. To have an Indian accent in English is to speak the language of the gatekeepers but not in their voice. And for that, the gate is never fully open.
This is why Indians, even today, instinctively shift their pronunciation in certain rooms. Why the tone bends, why the syllables smooth out, why the effort to “sound right” often outweighs the effort to be right. The world has trained us to believe that respect is not just about what you say but how it is said—and by whom.
But here’s what history doesn’t always account for: the moment the ruled stop seeking permission. The Indian accent has already entered boardrooms, newsrooms, and global platforms—not by asking to be accepted, but by refusing to be ignored. It carries literature, science, cinema, technology, and philosophy. It builds businesses, wins elections, and tells stories that the world listens to—even if, at first, it pretends not to understand.
To speak with an Indian accent is to carry forward something far greater than just a way of pronouncing words. It is to speak despite the weight of history. To reclaim space in a language that was once imposed. To remind the world that intelligence was never in the accent—it was always in the ideas.
1. The Hierarchy of Language
Learn
( Image credit : Pexels )
This isn’t a debate about clarity—it’s about perception. English, despite its claim of global inclusivity, has an unspoken caste system. A system that has little to do with grammar and everything to do with who has historically held power. When an accent comes from a place that once ruled, it is sophisticated. When it comes from a place that was ruled, it is comic relief.
Why does an Indian scientist’s English need to be “neutral” to be respected, but an American tourist’s Hindi—no matter how butchered—is instantly met with admiration? Why does a Western accent allow for mistakes, while an Indian one must be precise to be considered fluent? The playing field was never level; it was drawn with borders that favor one side.
2. The Weight of an Accent
British
( Image credit : Pexels )
The Indian accent carries centuries of history, and history, as we know, lingers in ways we don’t always admit. Colonialism did not just take resources—it dictated which voices would be heard. English was never just a language; it was a passcode. To have an Indian accent in English is to speak the language of the gatekeepers but not in their voice. And for that, the gate is never fully open.
This is why Indians, even today, instinctively shift their pronunciation in certain rooms. Why the tone bends, why the syllables smooth out, why the effort to “sound right” often outweighs the effort to be right. The world has trained us to believe that respect is not just about what you say but how it is said—and by whom.
3. The Subtle Act of Resistance
Mic
( Image credit : Pexels )
But here’s what history doesn’t always account for: the moment the ruled stop seeking permission. The Indian accent has already entered boardrooms, newsrooms, and global platforms—not by asking to be accepted, but by refusing to be ignored. It carries literature, science, cinema, technology, and philosophy. It builds businesses, wins elections, and tells stories that the world listens to—even if, at first, it pretends not to understand.
To speak with an Indian accent is to carry forward something far greater than just a way of pronouncing words. It is to speak despite the weight of history. To reclaim space in a language that was once imposed. To remind the world that intelligence was never in the accent—it was always in the ideas.