Sea of Poppies

by Amitav Ghosh

  bobachee-connah/bawarchee-khana (*The Glossary): ‘On this latter term I am at odds with every authority who has given the matter any thought: whereas they derive it from Hind. khana, “place” or “room”, it is my intuition that it comes from the Bengali element kona/cona, meaning corner. This seems self-evident to me, for if the meaning of bobachee-connah were indeed “cook-room”, then surely the proper locution would be “bobbachy-camra”. That this variant does sometimes occur, is to me the exception that proves the rule. Similarly goozle-coonuh/goozul-khana appears to me to be often wrongly rendered as “bathing-room”: when applied to a place where a bathtub is kept, it must surely mean “bathing-corner”. But so far as other connah/khana compounds are concerned, I will concede that it is often used in the sense of room: e.g. karkhana, jel-khana, babkhana and the like.’

  +bobbery/bobbery-bob: ‘This word for “commotion”, so much used in southern China, was nothing but an adaptation of our common baap-rébaap.’ The Oracle’s translation of this as ‘oh my father!’ is surely a rendition rather of the equally common baap-ré, for the full expression would be rather: ‘father oh father!’ An alternative derivation, from the Cantonese pa-pi – a noise – is, as the Barney-Book rightly observes, extremely doubtful.

  bolia/bauleah/baulia (*The Glossary): ‘One of Bengal’s lighter river-craft, usually equipped with a small cabin.’

  bora (*The Glossary): ‘A large manyoared boat, commonly used in Bengal for the transportation of cargo.’

  bowla (*The Glossary): ‘These were, as I recall, portmanteaux or trunks, which were made to order by a few of our most skilled moochies.’

  bowry/bowly (*The Barney-Book): ‘In Hind. this generally referred to step-wells known as baolis. But after its passage into English it often came to be applied to pavilions that stood upon the banks of waterways large and small. Every nullah and nuddee could boast of a few. It was sometimes used interchangeably with chabutra/chabutter.’

  boya (*Roebuck): ‘Laskari for “buoy”.’

  +buck: ‘A good example of the subtle shifts of meaning that occur when words leap between languages. For in Hind. this expression conveys more a sense of idle chatter than of the boastfulness that attaches to it in English (no doubt because of the purported demeanour of that animal for the name of which it is a homonym). The extended form buckwash (from Hind. bakwás – “prattle”, “idle talk” or “nonsense”) has a sense similar to the cant expression “hogwash”.’

  budgrook (*The Glossary): ‘A Portuguese coin of low denomination, the circulation of which is said to be restricted to Goa.’

  +budmash/badmash: ‘Like budzat and hurremzad a term which causes more grief to lexicographers than to anyone to whom it was ever addressed as a term of abuse. What purpose is served by breaking it into its constituent Arabic and Persian elements when the whole forms a neat equivalent of the English “rascal”?’ Neel was undoubtedly right to choose budmash over the now defunct budzat as fortune’s favourite.

  budzat/badzat (*The Glossary): See budmash.

  +buggalow/bagala: ‘A species of Arab dhow that was once a common sight on the Hooghly.’

  bulkat (*The Glossary): ‘As I recall, the name for a certain kind of large boat from the Telegu country.’

  bullumteer (*The Glossary): ‘An adaptation of the English “volunteer”, used generally for sepoys who served overseas.’

  buncus (*The Glossary): ‘Malay cheroots that were greatly prized by some.’

  +bunder/bandar: See +bandar.

  +bunder-boat: See +bandar.

  +bundook/bunduk: This common Arabic-derived word was much dictionarized even in Neel’s day, usually being glossed as ‘musket’ or ‘rifle’, and it is in this form that it takes its place in the Oracle. This belies Neel’s predictions, for this was another instance in which he accepted a questionable derivation from Barrère & Leland, who trace the Arabic original back to the the German name for Venice, ‘Venedig’. The implication is that bundook was introduced into Arabic by German mercenaries of the Venetian Republic, and was first used in the sense of ‘crossbow’. Neel was mistaken in his belief that the word would revert to its original sense, except that it would come to be applied to the fine chandeliers and other articles of Venetian manufacture that were then much in vogue among wealthy Bengalis.

  bungal (*Roebuck): ‘This word refers to the nautical “speaking-trumpet” – the instrument of amplification which permits ships at sea to communicate. Curiously, the usual Laskari pronunciation of it is byugal – which would seem to suggest that they discern in this object some mysterious kinship with the bugle’.

  bunow/ bunnow/ banao (*The Glossary): ‘This is, as Sir Henry rightly observes, one of the rare Hind. verbs to be adapted into English. But even after it had made the crossing it retained something of its original sense, which was more “to build” than “to make” – for one could certainly never say, as above, “bunow the crossing”.’

  +burkmundauze/barkandaz: ‘A term that was useful mainly for its imprecision, for it could, when necessary, be applied to any of that great paltan of paiks, piyadas, latheeals, kassidars, silahdars and other armed guards, retainers and sentries who once thronged our streets. The gatekeepers and watchmen whose duties kept them stationary formed a slightly different kind of paltan, composed of chowkidars, durwauns and the like.’

  +burra/bara: ‘I am convinced that this is another word that has entered English through a nautical route, burra/bara being the common Laskari term for the tallest of a ship’s masts – the main.’ See also dol.

  Burrampooter (*The Glossary): ‘This is merely the anglice, blessedly shortlived, of “Brahmaputra”.’

  +bustee/basti: ‘In my childhood we used this word only to mean “neighbourhood” or “settlement”, with no pejorative implication attached. The English derivative, on the other hand, was used to mean “Black Town” or “native area”, being applied only to the areas where Bengalis lived. Strange to think that it was in this derogatory guise that it was passed back to Hind. and Bengali, and is now commonly used in the sense of “slum”.’

  butcha/bacha (*The Barney Book): ‘A word for “child” that will undoubtedly migrate through the open windows of the nursery.’ Neel was wrong about this.

  buy-em-dear: See bayadère.

  buzz: See shoke.

  +caftan/qaftan: See choga.

  caksen/coxen (*Roebuck): ‘It is puzzling that Roebuck lists this as the Laskari word for “coxswain”, since the pronunciation of it is indistinguishable from the English.’

  caleefa/khalifa (*The Glossary): See bobbachy.

  +calico: ‘Some dictionaries award this word a Malayali lineage, since this kind of cotton cloth was said to be a product of the Malabar coast. This is utter buckwash, for the word calico self-evidently comes from “Calicut”, which is a place name introduced by Europeans: were the word derived from the town’s Malayalam name the cloth would be known, surely, as “kozhikodo”.’

  calputtee (*Roebuck): ‘The Laskari for “caulker”, this was a mystery who found little employment on Indian vessels, which were generally rabbeted rather than caulked.’

  carcanna/karcanna (*The Glossary): Already in Neel’s lifetime this long-pedigreed English word (from Hind. kar-khana, ‘work-place’ or ‘work-shop’) was slowly yielding to the term ‘factory’ – a lexical scandal in Neel’s ears, which were still accustomed to hearing that word used to designate the residence of a ‘factor’ or ‘agent’. But it was not for nostalgic reasons alone that he mourned the passing of carcanna/karcanna: he foresaw that its wreckage would also carry into oblivion many of those who had once worked in these places of manufacture – for example the factory-clerks known as carcoons. It was in mourning the fate of this word that the unknown wordy-wallah penned his comments on logocide.

  carcoon (*The Glossary and *The Barney-Book): See above.

  chabee (*The Glossary): In an uncharacteristic display of restraint, Neel refused to enter into the controversy over whether the Por
tuguese word for ‘key’ had set sail for England from Portugal or Hind.

  + chabutra / chabutter: See bowly / bowry.

  + chaprasi / chuprassy: See dufter / daftar.

  +charpoy: As noted earlier (see bandar), Neel was of the opinion that words, unlike human beings, are less likely to survive the rigors of migration if they travel as couples: in any pair of synonyms one is sure to perish. How, then, was he to account for the journey of those eminently successful synonyms, charpoy and cot (both of which, un-beknownst to him, were to receive the Oracle’s imprimatur)? Neel was clearly annoyed by this anomaly – (‘Has Blatty no words for the comforts of the bed, that it must steal so wilfully from us?’) – but he did not fail to recognize the threat that was posed to his pet theory by these paired words. ‘English, no less than the languages of Hind., has many reasons to be grateful to the lascars, and the gift of the word cot (from Hind. khât) is not the least of them. There can be little doubt that this word entered the English language through a nautical route: it is my conviction that khat was the first Laskari word for “hammock” and that jhula/jhoola only came into use when the original was confiscated by their malums (vide the Admiral’s definition of cot: “a wooden bed-frame, suspended from the beams of a ship for the officers, between decks”). These cots were clearly more comfortable than ordinary hammocks, for they were soon passed down to ships’ infirmaries, for the benefit of the sick and the wounded. This, by extension, is the sense in which the word was swept into the main current of the English language, being adopted first as a name for the swinging cribs of the nursery. We see thus that contrary to appearances, cot and charpoy are no more synonyms than are “cradle” and “bedstead”. Nor indeed are they synonyms even in Hind., for I am convinced that charpai was originally applied to all four-legged pieces of furniture (in the precise sense of the Hind. char-pai, “four-legged”) in order to distinguish them from such objects as had only three legs (tin-pai or tipai – from which, as Sir Henry rightly observes, descended those small tables known as teapoys in English). The confusing term sea-poy, however, is merely a variant spelling of sepoy and has nothing whatsoever to do with legs or seasickness. The ghost of this peculiar misconception is yet to be laid, however, as is evident from a story I was recently told about a young lieutenant who came to be separated from his troops while boarding a ship. It is said that after crying out in alarm – “I’ve lost my sea-poys!” – he was taken further aback at being handed a balty and some smelling salts.’

  charter: ‘Although the Oracle makes no mention of it, I am convinced that this verb was often used in the same sense as the Hind. verb chatna, from which English received the resplendent chutney, “good to lick” (not to be confused with chatty/chatta, which lascars were accustomed to apply to earthen vessels). The cant term charterhouse is frequently applied to houses of ill-repute.’

  chatty/chatta (*the Admiral, *Roe-buck): See charter.

  +chawbuck/chábuk: ‘This word, so much more expressive than “whip”, was almost as much a weapon as the object it designated. That it should be among the few Hind. words that found a verbal use in English is scarcely a matter of surprise, considering how often it fell from the sahibs’ lips. When so used, the proper form for the past participle is chawbuck’t. The derived form chawbuckswar, “whip-rider”, was considered a great compliment among hard-driving horsemen.’

  chawbuckswar (*The Glossary): See above.

  +cheese: Neel was no visionary in predicting the eventual incorporation of this derivative of Hind. chiz, ‘thing’, into the Oracle, for the use of it in such sentences as ‘this cheroot is the real cheese’ was common enough in his day. However, its role in such locutions as ‘the Burra Cheese’ would undoubtedly have come as a surprise.

  chicken/chikan (*The Barney-Book): ‘The closely-worked embroidery of Oudh; from which the cant expression “chicken-worked”, frequently used to describe those who had perforce to live with a bawhawder ma’am-sahib.’

  +chin-chin (*The Barney-Book): ‘Greetings (from which chin-chin-joss: “worship”).’

  chin-chin-joss (*The Glossary): See chin-chin.

  chingers (*The Barney-Book): ‘Curious that Barrère & Leland imagine this word to have entered the English language through the gypsy dialect. It was quite commonly used in bobachee-connahs, for choolas had always to be lit with chingers (from Hind. chingare). I have even heard it used in the sentence “The chingers flew”.’

  Chin-kalan (*The Glossary): ‘Strange as it seems today, this was indeed the name by which lascars were accustomed to speak of the port of Canton.’

  chints/chinti (*The Glossary, *The Barney-Book): ‘This word for ants and insects was doomed by its resemblance to the more common chintz (painted kozhikodoes)’.

  +chit/chitty: ‘A most curious word, for despite the fact that it comes from the Hind. chitthi, ‘letter,’ it was never applied to any missive entrusted to the dawk. It had always to be delivered by hand, never by post, and preferably by a chuprassy, never by a dawk-wallah or hurkaru.’

  chitchky (*The Glossary): Neel was convinced that this descendant of the Bengali word chhechki had a brilliant future as a migrant, predicting that it would even be ennobled as a verb, since English had no equivalent term for this technique of cooking. Searching vainly for a palatable meal in the East End, he once wrote: ‘Why do none of these lascars ever think of setting up inns and hostelries where they can serve chitckied cabbage with slivered whiting to Londoners? Would they not profit from the great goll-maul that would thus be created?’ He would have been greatly saddened to see this elegant word replaced by the clumsy locution ‘stir-fried’.

  +chittack: A measure of weight, equivalent to one ounce, seventeen penny-weights, twelve grains troy.

  +chobdar: ‘To have one was a great sign of prestige, since a mace-bearer was a rare luxury. I still remember how the poor Raja of Mukhpora, even when facing ruin, could not bear to let his chobdar go.’

  +choga (see banyan): Neel was pessimistic about the future of this word, which he believed would be overwhelmed by its Turkish rival, caftan.

  + chokey / choker / choakee / choky / chowki: ‘If an exchange of words be-tokens a joining of experience, then it would appear that prisons are the principal hinge between the people of Hind. and Blatty. For if the English gave us their “jail” in its now ubiquitous forms, jel, jel-khana, jel-bot and the like, we for our part have been by no means miserly in our own gifts. Thus as early as the sixteenth century the Hind. chowki was already on its way across the sea, eventually to effect its entry into English as those very old words chokey, choker, choky, and even sometimes chowki. The parent of these words is of course the Hind. chowk, which refers to a square or open place in the centre of a village or town: this was where cells and other places of confinement were customarily located, being presided over by a kotwal and policed by a paltan of darogas and chowkidars. But chokey appears to have gained in grimness as it traveled, for its Hind. avatar is not the equal of its English equivalent in the conjuring of dread: a function that devolves rather to qaid and qaidi – two words which started their travels at almost the same time as chokey, and went on to gain admittance under such guises as quod, quoddie, and quodded, the last having the sense of “jailed”.’

  +chokra/chuckeroo: ‘Another instance in which Hind. and English usages subtly diverge, for a chhokra in former refers to a youth, a lad, a stripling, while chokra/chuckeroo points rather to a rung in the ladder of employment, which, no matter whether in a household, a military encampment, or a ship’s crew, was usually the lowest, and thus commonly (but by no means always) held by the young. In the Raskhali Rajbari it would have been considered strange indeed to speak of a middle-aged khidmatgar as a chhokra. But such an usage would not appear unusual in English. It is interesting in this regard to compare chokra/ chuckeroo with its synonyms launder/ launda, which were never used in mixed company, for reason perhaps, of baring a little too much of their manhood.’ See also lascar.

  +choola/chu
la: ‘Another of those words in which the experience of migration has wrought a subtle shift of personality. In sahiby bobachee-connahs the word usually referred to an oven, whereas in Hind. it was used for a stove with an open fire (from which, the Laskari chuldan for “galley”). Often these stoves were portable, the combustibles being loaded into a clay or metal balde. It is this perhaps that has misled some pundits into thinking that the Laskari dish, “galinha balde,” or “balti chicken”, was named after a certain kind of stove. One does not need to have observed the preparation of this dish to know that this is pure buckwash, for if it were indeed thus named, then surely its name would have been “choola chicken”.’

  choomer (*The Barney-Book): ‘In English the use of the Hind. loan word for “kiss”, chumma, was used always in the sense of “peck on the cheek”, and was never applied to deeper amatory explorations. The misleading term “kiss-miss” does not refer to the mystery of the choomer. As many a furtive classy has discovered, the whispering of this word in the city’s disreputable gullies will lead not to a charterhouse, but to a handful of raisins.’