Vijay Hashia
vijayhashia@hotmail.com
Why do English speakers “bite the bullet,” when they are not anywhere near a battlefield or cannot with calcium teeth? Why must one “spill the beans” when the beans were never in a container to begin with? And why is someone who reveals secrets called a “whistle-blower?” Whistles, as far as we know, inform referees of fouls, not of frauds.
Idioms are strange creatures. They defy logic, mock grammar, and laugh at literal interpretation. Yet, we continue to use them as if they were the most natural form of communication, although anyone learning the language might suspect that native speakers routinely prank them.
Every language manufactures its own brand of drivel. And curiously, this drivel makes perfect sense to insiders while leaving outsiders scratching their heads, or, as a French person might say, “breaking their sugar,” which is their idiom for expressing frustration.
An idiom is essentially a shortcut: a bundle of meaning carried by a phrase whose individual words refuse to explain anything. To someone unfamiliar with the idiom, it is like being handed an IKEA manual with no pictures, utterly useless.
Take the Spanish expression “Me estas tomando el pelo?” Literally, it means, “Are you pulling my hair, or kidding me?” Why hair? Why pulling? Who knows? Perhaps ancient Spaniards engaged in recreational tugging when mocked.
If a Japanese speaker says, “My cheeks have fallen,” what she really means is that she’s embarrassed, not facially disassembled. A German might say, “Ich verstehe nur Bahnhof, ” “I understand only train station,” indicating total confusion.
Idioms are cultural handshakes, they signal revealing who belongs and who doesn’t. Tell an American, “I’ll take a rain check,” and they’ll know you’re postponing your plan. Tell the same to a visitor from Thailand, and they might look anxiously at the sky.
In Kashmiri, calling a friendship “Hapath Yaraz” literally means “a bear’s friendship,” referring to a foolish ally who causes more harm than help. “ Kukras Kuni Zang,” literally “ the chicken has only one leg,” refers to person who stubbornly refused to change his mind.
And in Dogri, “ Jithe di khoti, uthey khadoti,” literally “ where the donkey is, there it remains,” is said of someone who is lazy or stubborn. “Bapu ne mari ni katari, put bne de shikari” literally, “The father did not wield the sword, but the son became a hunter,” describes a son who is far more ambitious than his father.
“The Punjabi expression ‘The buffalo has gone into the water’ means ‘the situation is spoiled,’ though it never clarifies what the buffalo was doing on land in the first place. In Bengali, calling someone a ‘watermelon under the arm’ means they are showing off. The origin? Nobody knows, but imagining someone walking proudly with a watermelon tucked under their arm is amusing enough to justify its survival.”
Idioms, in short, function like secret passwords. They let insiders signal belonging and keep outsiders guessing, as cultural shibboleths have always done. Many idioms originate in history, folklore, superstition, or most commonly linguistic accidents that became permanent.
Some idioms arise from mistranslation. In the 18th century, British traders in China misunderstood the phrase “add oil” (meaning “keep going” or “put in more effort”) and assumed it referred to cooking. It later made its way into Hong Kong English and is now internationally recognized.
Others come from metaphors that lost relevance. The English idiom “hold your horses” made sense when horses were the primary engine of transport. Today, it persists even though most people have never held a horse in their life.
Idioms reflect how cultures view the world and reveal collective personality. Italians warn: “Not all doughnuts come with a hole,” meaning life doesn’t always work out. Russians expect disaster, saying: “I’m not hanging noodles on your ears,” meaning “I’m telling the truth.” Chinese speakers assure sincerity by saying: “My heart is speaking,” a poetic alternative to the dull English “Honestly…”
Hindi-speaking emotions vary idiomatically. A Hindi speaker might say, ‘My mind is eating halwa,’ to convey delight, or ‘Mera sar chakkar kha raha hai’ (‘my head is eating circles’) to signify confusion.”
Everywhere one looks, languages pack small explosions of absurdity. These phrases delight natives and confound everyone else. But above all, idioms show how humans bond.
We invent drivel not because we lack logic but because we crave community. Idioms create intimacy. You don’t merely understand a language when you learn an idiom, you understand its people. And when a newcomer finally decodes these puzzling expressions, they are no longer outsiders. They have crossed the boundary from literal meaning into cultural meaning.
Or, as a Greek speaker would shrug and say, “It’s all Greek to me.” Even when it isn’t.
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