Yours Shortly

                                                         

Since childhood, I’ve had an inexplicable fascination with acronyms and abbreviations. I vividly remember one day in school, when I stood up from my desk to ask the English teacher what the ‘diff’ was between two concepts she had painstakingly explained. The answer? A firm tug on my ear.

My family has always been exasperated by my tendency to chop off syllables and words, especially redundant ones. For instance, I find it completely unnecessary to use the word "day" in the names of the days of the week. More often than not, I find myself telling my daughter, "Let’s do it on 'Sat,'" or, "We’re going out for dinner on 'Wed.'" Even in Indian languages, we add "var" after the day—like ‘Somvar’ (Monday) or ‘Ravivar’ (Sunday). To me, it should just be ‘Som’ or ‘Ravi.’ Interestingly, Bahasa Indonesia, with its efficiency, doesn’t even bother with this redundancy. Monday is simply ‘Senin,’ and Friday is ‘Jumat.’

At the same time, I’ve always harbored the belief that vowels are mostly superfluous. Why not skip them? I’ve even signed my name as “Sndp.” When I attended business school, I learned that once an abbreviation is introduced, it’s acceptable to use it throughout. What really boggles my mind is when acronyms pop up without any prior explanation.

Armed Forces around the world are notorious for their obsession with acronyms—often without the courtesy of explaining them. Diplomacy is another prime offender. Modern diplomacy practically floats on an alphabet soup, or rather on a sea of acronyms. Just try keeping up. NAFTA gave way to USMCA, but why not call it ‘CAMUS,’ in a nod to the existential philosopher? BRICS, on the other hand, rolls off the tongue with ease. I once heard the Kazakh Ambassador in New Delhi suggest that adding Kazakhstan to the group would make it grammatically solid, transforming ‘BRICS’ into ‘BRICKS.’ Now that’s a really strong organisation. 

However, nothing I’ve encountered in the world of abbreviations prepared me for Indonesia. The abbreviation game here is a super fine art. As Bahasa Indonesia uses the Latin alphabet it has helped in the amplification of this art form. In India and maybe in other countries as well, only initials are used to form abbreviations. Indonesians have taken the short form to stratospheric levels, both in terms of creativity and extent of use. They take select syllables from words to create easily pronounceable forms. Such use is not restricted to slang but forms part of the daily acceptable lexicon.

Even before arriving in Indonesia, I kept hearing the word ‘Kemlu.’ I quickly deduced it was the Indonesian equivalent of our MEA (Ministry of External Affairs). But here's the twist. So, ‘Kementerian Luar Negeri’ becomes ‘Kemlu,’ not ‘KLN’—which would be a mouthful for Bahasa speakers. Similarly, the External Affairs Minister (EAM) in India is ‘Menlu’ in Indonesia, short for ‘Menteri Luar Negeri.’

The tendency to shorten words is all pervasive, extending to all realms of public life and is a continuous process. Recently, the Government of Indonesia announced the creation of a national sovereign wealth fund called Danantara. Hardly anyone will know that it is the abbreviated form of Daya ( Ability or Strength) Anagata (Future) Nusantara (Archipelago). Apparently it is not even a modern phenomenon. While visiting the Prambanan Temple in Yogyakarta, built during the 9th century CE, I learned that the name derives from ‘Param’ (high or many) and Brahman, signifying a temple with many priests. 

Referring to the political world, while in India, BJP is just an abbreviation, Indonesia’s ruling party is ‘Gerindra,’ short for ‘Gerakan Indonesia Raya,’ and most people wouldn’t even recognize the full form. The abbreviated name has become the identity. Even Indonesia’s oldest political party, ‘Golkar,’ is a shortcut from ‘Golongan Karya.’ The Indonesian Army Special Forces are known as ‘Kopassus’ (Komando Pasukan Khusus). The 1974 riots in Jakarta during the visit of the Japanese Prime Minister Kakuei Tanaka are imprinted in collective Indonesian memory as ‘Malari’, short for Malapetaka Lima Belas Januari  or the fifteenth of January Disaster. 

The enthusiasm for abbreviations extends to people’s names, too. President Joko Widodo is affectionately known as ‘Jokowi,’ and a senior minister, Zulfikli Hasan, is simply called ‘Zulhas.’ I briefly entertained the idea of making ‘SanCha’ my own shorthand for Sandeep Chakravorty, but I promptly abandoned it when my Bahasa teacher warned me that ‘Sanca’ is the local term for python. 

On my first official trip outside Jakarta to Semarang for the EAS Economic Ministers Meeting in September 2023, I kept hearing the word ‘Dubes.’ I soon realized it was the shorthand for ‘Duta Besar,’ which means Ambassador. In Indonesia, it’s perfectly normal to refer to an Ambassador as ‘Dubes,’ and I was so inspired that I printed it on my visiting card.

The proliferation of abbreviations is common in daily lives. A drive-thru is cleverly termed ‘Lantatur’ (Layanan Tanpa Turun), which means ‘service without getting out of the car.’ Even names of places are not exempted. Take ‘Jagorawi,’ for example, a popular highway break spot and golf course. The name is a mashup of Jakarta, Bogor, and Ciawi. The omnipresent Community Health Center is abbreviated to ‘PusKesMas,’ from ‘Pusat Kesehatan Masyarakat’ (Center for Public Health). What is Perpenka? It is the convenient abbreviation of Perkumpulan Pensiunan Karyawan Kereta Api or Association of Retired Railway Employees.

There are no stops for the abbreviation juggernaut. The traffic lights? ‘Lamer’ (from ‘Lampu Merah,’ or red light). And in Javanese, they’re called ‘Bangjo,’ derived from ‘Abang’ (red) and ‘Hijo’ (green).

By the time my first year in Jakarta came to a close, I was greeted with ‘Nataru’ (a fusion of ‘Natal’ and ‘Tahun Baru,’ meaning Christmas and New Year). "Happy Nataru!" is a perfectly acceptable greeting here. A popular word to describe the Iftar meals during Ramadan is BukBer deriving from Buka Puasa Bersama, the puasa being conveniently dropped. Cell phones are ‘HaPay,’ from H.P., short for ‘Hand Phone,’ and birthdays are celebrated with a hearty ‘HUT’ (Hari Ulang Tahun). The shortening saw even made short stories - Cerita Pendek -  become ‘Cerpen’. If I did my Bahasa assignment correctly, my teacher would say - Mantul- meaning excellent, extracted from Mantap meaning very good and Betul, which stand for correct or right.

Nothing and nobody is left untouched in this passion and obsession for creating the short form. ‘Bapak’, equivalent to what we know as Shri or Mr. becomes ‘Pak’ and pronounced lazily as only ‘Pa’. ‘Mbak’ which stands for Miss is correctly pronounced as ‘mBA’. 

Vendors selling street food from carts are called ‘Kaki Lima,’ which means ‘Five Legs’—referring to the four wheels of the cart and the vendor who dangles a leg from the side. Coffee shops are ‘WarKop’ (Warung Kopi), and internet cafes are ‘Warnet’ (Warung Internet). The most creative branding comes from ‘WarTeg,’ which refers to a Warung established by a resident of Tegal.

When it comes to food sold in the Warongs, the contrivance is deliciously flavourful. A popular snack from Bandung is called ‘Cuanki,’ short for ‘Cari Uang Jalan Kaki’—meaning ‘making money while walking around’ (perfectly fitting for a vendor). It is actually a dim sum made of cassava and filled with fish or meat. But the name comes not from the food or the ingredients but from the vendors. Then there’s ‘Batagor’ (Bakso Tahu Goreng), fried meatballs with tofu, and ‘NasGor,’ the ever-popular Nasi Goreng, the fried rice of Indonesia. 

And don’t forget ‘Combro,’ a delightful treat made from fermented cassava filled with spicy or sweet oncom. Oncom is a soya byproduct. Now what is ‘Combro’? ‘Combro’ derives from ‘Comro’ or ‘Oncom di jero’ meaning there is oncom inside. Somehow ‘Oncom di jero’ became Comro and metamorphosed to Combro. As there are two types of Combro, one has spicy oncom filling. The second one has sweet brown sugar fillings. This ‘Combro’ is also sometimes known as ‘Misro’ or ‘Amis di Jero (Amis is sweet in Sundanese language). Then there is ‘Dicocol Enak’ or ‘Colenak’, a local delicacy made from fermented cassava that is grilled and served with a brown sugar and coconut sauce. Even the mundane Mung Bean Porridge acquires prestige by becoming ‘BurJo’ from ‘Bubur Kacang Ijo’. Here, even ‘Ijo’ has been shortened from ‘Hijau’ or ‘Hijo’ meaning green.

The short form of messaging doesn’t stop anywhere. Private messages are abbreviated to ‘Japri’ (Jawab Pribadi), and if you’re not into any political party, you’re ‘Golput’ (Golongan Putih). Online is ‘Daring’ (Dalam Jaringan), and offline is ‘Luring’ (Luar Jaringan).

While this tendency to abbreviate is pervasive across generations, it’s particularly rampant among the youth. I learned this when I asked our cook, the elderly Ibu Nani, if ‘Maksi’ (short for Makan Siang, or lunch) was ready. She looked completely puzzled, until Siti, her much younger and in the know colleague, burst into laughter and explained the shorthand to her.

Emboldened, I’ve come up with my own abbreviated velvety smooth short word for dinner: ‘Makmal’— for Makan Malam. I hope it catches on and becomes my contribution to the Indonesian lexicon!

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