Parliament has many traditions. Addressing the Chair as if he were a college roommate is not one of them.
So when the Chair had to interrupt proceedings to ask an honourable member to withdraw the word ‘yaar’, it was not linguistic policing, but a necessary reminder of where familiarity is meant to stop and institutional authority is supposed to begin.
The Lok Sabha chairman is not your buddy. He is the embodiment of the House at that moment. Reduce him to a ‘yaar,’ and you reduce the institution to a chai tapri.
The Chair, Krishna Prasad Tenneti, a TDP MP, did not cite Shakespeare or Sanskrit. He simply asked, politely and repeatedly, for the word to be taken back. This, apparently, was too much to ask.
From decorum to dialogue delivery
The argument that followed was revealing. What is wrong with saying ‘yaar’, a Congress MP shouted. Nothing, of course, if you are haggling with an auto driver or consoling a friend after a bad IPL auction. Everything, if you are addressing the presiding officer of the Lok Sabha.
Parliamentary language has always drawn a line between passion and familiarity. Members may shout, accuse, thump desks, and occasionally tear papers with theatrical flourish. But even in the middle of a din, they address the Chair with a measure of formal distance. That distance is not elitism. It is an insulation for the institution. Once familiarity creeps in, respect leaks out.
Din over an unpublished article
The irony is that the uproar was not about ‘yaar’ at all. It was about an unpublished memoir, an authenticated article, and the India-China border, a subject serious enough to demand sobriety. Instead, the House descended into an argument over whether Parliament is a debating chamber or a boys’ hostel common room.
As the leader of the opposition, Rahul Gandhi, attempted to press his point, the floor became crowded with interruptions, counter-interruptions, and finally, conversational shortcuts. When logic fails, language loosens. ‘Yaar’ was not a slip of the tongue but a symptom.
This is not the first time
Indian parliamentary history is littered with words that had to be withdrawn, expunged, or buried without ceremony. Members have been asked to take back ‘liar’, ‘hypocrite’, ‘anti-national’, and even colourful rural metaphors that do not travel well to the record.
There have been flying papers, snatched microphones, and once upon a time, a shoe that nearly made history. Yet, even at their angriest, most MPs remembered one thing: the Chair is addressed, not engaged.
Sanctity is not optional
The Chair’s reminder was not about ego. It was about setting a line that must not blur. If MPs cannot distinguish between a friend and a function, what exactly are they modelling for public life?
The rot, as always, travels downwards. If Parliament speaks casually to authority, the street will speak crudely. If institutions are treated like pals, they will soon be treated like punchbags. There is a reason the Chair sits elevated. It is not for better camera angles.
Familiarity breeds contempt
The request was simple. Take back the word, not the argument, not the dissent, just the word. That even this became contentious tells us how casually seriousness is worn these days.
‘Yaar’ may be perfectly acceptable in private conversation, but in the Lok Sabha it serves as a reminder that when proximity replaces protocol, respect is usually the first casualty, and institutions, once reduced to familiarity, rarely recover their authority without paying a price.
The devolving standards of decorum and politeness has been happening steadily over the years. It is also a reflection of the society we live in. The social media and instant messaging apps have created a new breed of language both in written and spoken form.
For instance in India every senior person has to have the suffix ‘Sir’. If your driver calls you by the first name it can be a sacrilege. But overseas this is quite common.
So even in Parliament perhaps we need to bring in a little more informality without diluting the authority or the power of the Chair
When people defy decorum and indulge in anarchy, be it in words or deeds , it is a sure sign that there is something pathological wrong in their thought process .
Lack of refinement speaks loud when we fail to discern between people as per their social standing .
My pals can be my yaar but certainly not my Guru, father or anyone who i respect not for their role in my life but for social standing
The chair commands respect in the same way as Modiji ‘s arch enemies bayed for his blood when he called Bankim Chandra Chhattopadhay dada and not Bankim Babu .
Dada is an acceptable term in bengal but yaar isn’t so .
colonial mindsets need to change. earlier, in govt departments, the letters would being with “I beg to submit”!! We have got over that now. Thanks to Email lot of such references have disappeared, having said that there has to be a decorum and respect to the chair of the Parliament. But we have elected such people who have no regard to any norms except their own. It is a shame to see the way these people behave. No one should be a friend or buddy in parliament, it needs to be a professional relationship and hence certain decorum is mandatory.