There’s a familiar noise that has been a significant part of my everyday routine while working from home. Sitting in my spot by the window, with my eyes fixated on the screen, I can almost imagine the afternoon atmosphere of our neighborhood just by consciously tuning into its cacophonies: kids shrieking, their sounds echoing as they chase each other; engines puffing their breaths roughly on the road; the heavy sound of trains; and scattered voices—some fading into the background, while others resonate across our street, subconsciously trying to outdo one another.
With all this commotion, it seems there’s one noise that has bothered me more than it comforts me. Just before daylight patiently fades away, there’s loud music played pretentiously almost every day—its beats pounding against the speakers, almost unbearable to listen to. At those times, I wish they would play music that lulls the soft seduction of the gloaming twilight, soothing the atmosphere. But instead, they play songs that bang awkwardly in the middle of our bustling neighborhood. I’d be fine if they didn’t turn up the volume to such extremes, but they do it every time, without considering how their music affects others.
Just like last Friday.
I had to listen to another queue of songs that made me sigh with frustration. How could they not resist their impatience and just let each song play until its last melody? I could still feel how exhausting it was just by listening, and I wanted to lift myself up and vent my annoyance. All I wanted at those moments was for something to help push away my sleepy thoughts so I could focus on my work.
But, luckily and oddly enough, I wasn’t in my usual stormy mood that day. I felt slightly at ease since I was already taking my time until my last shift. That’s why, I guess, I found myself singing along with their playlist in my head.
Until, suddenly, a loud Nosi Balasi blared through my ears.
Nosi Balasi was the song from my childhood that I often sang at our karaoke. This song actually made me feel ambitious, falsely convincing me that I was angsty just by singing its chorus with such conviction. When I finally had to pause to catch my breath, preparing to belt out a strong "Nosi Nosi Balasi," I felt so powerful for my age. That’s the effect this song had on me as I was growing up. Perhaps that’s why I never really paid much attention to its lyrics; all that mattered in those moments was how the song made me feel. With Nosi Balasi, I could still feel how strangely tasteful it was to articulate each syllable, as if it were some foreign incantation.
For most of my life, I almost thought that line was a Latin phrase because of its bewitching pronunciation—until sometime in high school when I finally paid close attention to its meaning. That’s when I realized that the lyrics were simply inverted, and it dawned on me randomly.
Nosi = Sino / Balasi = Ba Sila
So, it was that simple. I had the same thought occupying my mind yesterday. While I was on my last work quota, I found myself wondering what could possibly be the reason behind reversing the line Sino Ba Sila. This led my thoughts to expand as I crazily tapped my keyboard, my eyes glued to the screen.
Why are Filipinos so actively invested in slang like this?
Nosi Balasi is just one of many examples of what we call Tadbalik, which is the reverse form of the Tagalog word baliktad. This kind of Pinoy slang apparently started long before the song was even released. The habit of reversing words had actually been used by Filipino revolutionaries to hide their real identities. This can be traced back to the use of pseudonyms by Filipino writers and poets. One easy example is Marcelo H. Del Pilar, who used Plaridel as his pseudonym—a jumbled-up version of his surname.
Even I couldn’t believe that Tadbalik had been in use as early as the 19th century. And if we dig deeper into the deliberate usage of this slang in Nosi Balasi, perhaps it’s not just for its phonetic impact. Whether consciously or not, there could be a subconscious reason behind reversing the words in the chorus.
Nosi Balasi
By SAMPAGUITA
'Wag mong pansinin ang naninira sa 'yo
Basta't alam mo lang tama ang
ginagawa mo
'Wag mong isipin 'wag mong
dibdibin
Kung papatulan mo'y lalo ka lang
aasarin
Nosi, nosi ba lasi
Sino, sino ba sila
Nosi, nosi ba lasi
Sino, sino ba sila
Ituloy mo lang gawin ang gusto mo
Walang mangyayari kung sila'y
papansinin mo
Talagang ganyan 'wag mo lang
patulan
Wala lang magawa kaya sila'y
nagkakaganyan
Nosi, nosi ba lasi
Sino, sino ba sila
Nosi, nosi ba lasi
Sino, sino ba sila
This song was released in 1989, yet it still stands the test of time. Its long-standing presence in every Filipino household is enough validation that it remains one of the best songs, continuing to thrive despite the rise of new generations. I tried researching and looking for any supporting information about the background of this song, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything online.
The first verse goes like this:
'Wag mong pansinin ang naninira sa 'yo
Basta't alam mo lang tama ang ginagawa mo
'Wag mong isipin 'wag mong dibdibin
Kung papatulan mo'y lalo ka lang aasarin
To translate, this part means that you shouldn’t mind people who are trying to tear you down as long as you know you're doing the right thing. Don’t think about it or brood over it. If you retaliate, you'll just be picked on more.
This leads to the awaited chorus, where the Tagalog slang Sino Ba Sila is repeated twice, alternating with its original form. Since this word reversal is used as a disguise for someone’s identity, in this song, it serves a different effect.
To disguise means to alter one's appearance in order to conceal their identity. This could also suggest a desire for anonymity, as it seems there’s an effort to remove anything outstanding or familiar in order to remain unknown. In this generation, anonymity is widely used on many social media platforms, especially by those who want to voice their opinions but are afraid of being canceled. However, this has unfortunately gone beyond its original purpose and is often overused and misused by people targeting others. Since it is difficult to uncover someone’s true identity, many feel emboldened to attack others through their posts, which is ironically cowardly. But if we look at it from a different perspective, these anonymous individuals don’t have an identity in that space, and therefore, they are not important. Meanwhile, those who follow you and whom you follow have their names and pictures displayed, reminding you that there are still people you know who are not afraid to show their true selves. While they may seem unimportant, they actually are.
So, I guess "Nosi Nosi Balasi" is reversed to imply that those people whom we question with Sino Ba Sila (Who are they?) are not important. The act of asking who they are is enough to show that we don't know them, probably because they are hiding their true identity. The fact that this act of disguise is used to attack one's reputation, rather than for a creative or revolutionary purpose like our heroes did, is so disrespectful to them. Our history is fascinating, and so is our language. Using it with purpose means carrying it with responsibility. Our language is continuously evolving, which means we must keep up with and adapt to its changes.
There's no harm in change. Just like the song says, as long as you know you are right, then forget their existence, because nothing will happen if you keep focusing your attention in their direction. And whenever you want to fight back, just think backward, and perhaps you might want to consider asking them this in slang: Nosi Nosi Balasi?