Indian words in the English language

Title

Creator

Uppal, Naranjan Singh

Language

English

Source

Panorama XIV (5) May 1962

Rights

In Copyright - Educational Use Permitted

Fulltext

INDIAN WORDS IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE NARANJAN SINGH UPPAL English has borrowed, with out any fuss or ado, many words from the various In dian languages. Having ac quired, through usage, rights of full citizenship, they no longer strike a jarring note, dovetailing flawlessly into the body of the language. This process of borrowing has been continuous ever since the seventeenth centu ry, when the English made their first direct contact with India. Territorial conquest and the development of trade were accompanied by philolo gical acquisitions. “I once took the trouble”, said Prime Minister Nehru, “to collect the Hindustani words in the English language THOUGHTS ON THE . . . speeches, by mere demonstra tions of concern for the unfor tunate and the underprivi leged. Let us not be misled by the flattery of friends, for as has been said, our friends may at times prove to be our worst enemies. No nation can go far with men of petty minds. The pet tiness of men in public affairs and in other areas of society threatens to prevent the dev elopment of a strong civic spirit among a people. Petty poltical motives are poor guides even for decisions in the political field itself. But they are worse guides in those fields that should lie complete ly outside the scope of politics. One of these is education. Po litical interference in this field will have the effect of further worsening the present mediocre record of most of our schools. Political deci sions affecting our colleges and universities are bound to depress their academic stand ards. The consequences of such acts constitute a serious May 1962 53 but could not complete the task. But I was surprised to find such a large number of; Hindustani words current in English.” Words from other Indian languages, especially Bengali, Kanarese, Marathi, Gujarati, Malayalam, Tamil and Telegu are also well re presented in the English vo cabulary. According to Lord Mount batten, last British Viceroy of India, “the British mode of life, customs, speech and thought have been profound ly influenced by those of In dia — more profoundly than often has been realised.” The Oxford English dic tionary contains hundreds of THOUGHTS ON THE . . . obstacle to the development of future national leaders who have to be prepared in our In stitutions for higher educa tion. These must enjoy a high degree of freedom if they are to remain centers for the dif fusion and advancement of learning. Then there is another con sideration that we should take into account in a discussio of our nation’s crisis. No country today can live isolated from the rest of the world. In my recent travels in different countries in Southeast Asia, I have been surprised to dis cover that our country has atwords of Indian origin and many thousands of deriva tives. These Indian words can be devided into three main categories: naturals, de nizens and casuals. Naturals are those which have become fully naturalized English words. Denizens include those which have been adopted in to English usage with some changes in form, inflexion or pronunciation. Casuals are those words which are not in habitual use but which, for special or temporary purposes, found their way into the Eng lish vocabulary. The reasons for adopting Indian words in English were varied. Many of them de tracted the attention of many of their people. Their eyes seem to be focussed on us on more than a few occasions. They notice our political movements; they take note of our economic activities; they talk about our educational ac complishments; they read about our social and cultural changes. They may be mere ly prompted by idle curiosity rather than moved by admira tion. But whether it is one or the othert the fact is that their eyes are on us. Incidents of graft and corruption taking place among us are subjects (Continued on vage 56) 54 PANORAMA noted objects and actions for which English names could not be found easily. Others were chosen because they were picturesque and added local colour. An affectation of familiarity with Indian languages was a further con tributory factor. Another reason was the tendency of early English tra ders and explorers to trans form Indian words into Eng lish ones phonetically simil ar but with a different con notation. An illustration of this is the name John Com pany— the popular name for the East India Company — which, on the face of it, sounds thoroughly English. But the British historian Stanley Lane-Poole main tained that “John Company was originally Jahan Kumpany (Company of the World), the name given by the na tives of India to the United East India Company.” The vernacular phrase was ex pressive and the early En glish traders soon anglicised it. Similarly, punch, the fami liar English decoction, is an anglicised version of an In dian drink brewed during the 17th Century. This was made from five ingredients, includ ing spirits, sugar and spices, and was, therefore, called panch (five). Then there is the English expression quite the cheese, used in referring to some thing which is xSf good quality or comes up to one’s expec tations. Cheese here has no thing to do with the dairy product, but is the English version of the Persian and Hindustani chiz (thing). This is well borne out by the com mon Hindustani expression koi chiz hai (quite some thing), as, for instance, when it is used to refer to a girl with a comely figure. Similarly, the English phrase do not give a damn is said to have no connection with the blasphemous term but has been traced to daam, a copper coin which was worth about a fortieth of a rupee. In the course of translitera tion into English, several In dian words underwent phone tic changes. For example, solar topee has its origin in the Hindi shola meaning pith. Early English residents al tered shola into solar (stem ming from the Latin sol: sun) so that the expression should suggest, in sound and spelling, a sun helmet. Chit is derived from the Hindi chitty (a let ter or short note containing some message or news), and shampoo from the Hindi champna (to massage, to press). May 1962 55 Eminent English men of letters spiced their writing with Indian words. Thomas Moore introduced his readers to the vina (an Indian string instrument), Edmund Burke, to zenana (in Hindi: the women’s quarters) and to the Urdu begum (a lady of high rank). Shelley used the Ta mil pariah (of low caste) and THOUGHTS ON THE . . . of comment in their news papers. Irregularities in our elections become topics of conversation among their men of affairs. They listen to our claim for our country as a show window of democracy in Asia. While I do not feel certain that they entertain any sincere belief in it, I am convinced that they watch us with critical eyes but with a sympathetic spirit knowing that we are their neighbors and their fellow Southeast Asians. If we could show a record of excellent growth and of good government in this new independent democracy, they could point to us with pride as a demonstration of what a Southeast Asian coun try could do with its freedom. Here then is a responsibility thrust upon us. There is no way to evade it. Whether we like it or not, we are now an integral part of a fast shrinkthe Hindi champak (a species of magnolia), Carlyle, the words jungle (Hindi and Ma rathi: Jangal) and thug (Hin di and Marathi thag: cheat, swindler). Thomas Hood spoke of kerseymeres (trousers made of fine woollen cloth: a cor ruption of Cassimere — or Cashmere — associated with (Continued from page 54) ing world. As we contemplate the pre sent crisis in our nation’s his tory and as we think of its problems and difficulties, we may well remember and heed these words of that great man, Dr. Jose P. Laurel: “Age and experience keep counselling me that, when all is said and done, it is only a sincere and realistic devotion to the high est interests of one’s nation which gives one both courage and patience to wait for the deferred verdict of subsequent events and developments. Many a time, one indeed may be as one ‘crying in the wild erness,’ but the frustrations and even abuse become bear able when one faithfully fol lows one’s unalloyed convic tions about the national wel fare, or better yet the teach ings and counsel of the na tion’s heroes and unselfish leaders of the past.” 56 Panorama Kersey, a type of cloth said to have originated in the place of that name in Suf folk), Lytton, of shampoo and vakeel (Urdu for an agent or representative), Dickens, of loot (from the Hindi lut) and veranda. In Longfellow we find juggernaut (from jagannath: the Lord of the World, in Hin di), in Ruskin, bungalow (Hindi bangla, belonging to Bengal) and in Walter Scott, cummerbund (the Urdu kamar-band: loin-band) and howdah (haudah), a litter carried by elephants. Thackeray used Indian words for naming some of his characters. For instance, Mr. Chutney (Hindi chatni), General Curry (Tamil kari), Mulligatawney (Tamil milagu-tannir: pepper-water) and Bangles (Hindi bangri: a co loured glass bracelet). At other periods, English men moving about the coun try enlarged their vocabulary with words relating to the per sons and things they encoun tered during their travels. To this we owe coolie (from kuli, koli, an aboriginal tribe of Cujarat), dacoit (from the Hindi dakait: to plunder), bandicoot (a corruption of the Telegu pandi-kokku :■ pig-rat), pug, (the footprint of a beast) from the Hindi pag (footprint), and the slang term phut (to go phut) from phatna (in Hindi: to burst). There is hardly an aspect of English life which has not been influenced by Indian words. In military parlance we have khaki (from the Ur du: dusty) and puttee (from the Hindi patti: a hand band age). In sports, gymkhana (from the Hindustani gendkhana) and polo (from Bplti, an Indus Valley dialect: polo, the ball used in the game). On the culinary front we find, in addition to chutney, curry and mulligatawney, tod dy (from the Hindi tari, Hind. tar: palm-tree) and mango (from the Malay manga and the Tamil man-kay). Cloths and materials are re presented by calico (from the name of the Indian city Cali cut), chintz (from the Hindi chint) and tussore (from the Hindi and Urdu tasar: shut tle). Among other trade goods are copra (Malayalam koppara, Hindi khopra: coconut), coir (from the Malayalam kayar: cord), betel (probably from the Portuguese, which adapted the word from the Malayalam vettila) and teak (also through the Portuguese, an adaptation of the Malaya lam tekka). Representatives of the local fauna include the mongoose (from the Marathi (Continued on page 92) May 1962 57 THE COLLEGE . . . (Continued from page 80) purnia: But above all, he must be an educational lead er. If he cannot, because of his other responsibilities, something’s got to give. The solution of “a Damon-and-Pythias relationship to some trusted provost, dean of fa culty, or assistant” is, accor ding to Dr. Stoke, “rare and fortuitous.” He insists that “the real solution of the prob lem must wait upon more fundamental institutional evo lution.” But can we afford to wait that long? Will Dr. Dodd’s study point to a quick er way out? The college pres ident cannot, like Pooh-bah, continue to function much longer as Lord High Every thing Else. There were no H-bombs in Titipu. INDIAN WORDS . . . (Continued from page 57) mangus) and the cheetah (from the Hindi chita). A vast army of English words has also been admitted into the Indian languages. Spoken Telegu, for instance, is estimated to contain no less than 3,000. This enrichment of vocabulary and literature has, therefore, been a two-way traffic. ELECTRONIC . . . (Continued from page 82) successful until then to make so much money in other fields of its activity that the citi zen will be able to mail his corrspondence, which will be electronically sorted, for a postage of still no more than twenty pfennigs. “They tell me Boobleigh has a childlike faith in his wife.” “Yes, it’s wonderful. Why, he even goes so far as to take her word for it when she says there is plenty of gas in their car” — Judge. ♦ * * Husband (to wife, over phone) : Good news, dear. I’m pretty well played out, tramping all over town, but I’ve found an apartment at last. Wife (ecstatically): Oh, Horace, you darling! Do hurry home and tell me all about it. “There’s no great hurry. We don’t move in until 1982. The present tenants have a two years’ lease.” — Life. 92 Pang

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53-57,92

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