Sunday ka Funda

"Nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know."

— Pema Chodron

There are some words with religious connotations that go way beyond a particular faith. They become exclamations, pauses; they hold a meaning specific only to an individual. "Good heavens", "Hey Bhagwan", "Ya Allah", "Jesus" can hardly be confined to theology, especially if you hear them ever so often in casual conversation.

I was at a store the other day and the salesperson, upon being ticked off, immediately, and it appeared unthinkingly, let out a "Hai Allah". I did not know her faith, but I am aware of a couple of Hindu friends who use the term, just as Bhagwan, Jesus are used to pepper conversation. They have become like punctuation marks.

The resonance of "Om" is real. It might seem like autosuggestion, but when you meditate the hum in the pit of the stomach that finally reaches the temples can be heady.

My relationship with "Bismillah" is different. I don't use it often, and when I do it indicates a beginning. From the religious perspective it is uttered before every surah. The letters 786 denote the numeric value. I recall how, nervous before an exam way back in school, a relative told me to scrawl the letters on the answer sheet before starting. I tsk-tskd. On reaching the hall and faced with the ominous blank paper, I used my finger to draw out the letters. I do not remember what subject it was and the outcome, but this small act has stayed in memory. Because it became mine. A personal take. And a secret.

These days songs use such words, and they neither glorify nor demean them. They merely link the chain of events, from one to another. That's what life is about. The new. Afresh. Bismillah:

Sign Qua Non!

As with any written word, I am intrigued by signatures. My own has caused banks and other institutions much confusion simply because I 'forget' a turn or twist there, or am in such a hurry to put my stamp on paper that the pen overtakes, leaving behind unwanted slashes and mysteriously-placed dots.

Yesterday, while doing the needful, as the bureaucratic term goes, I decided to first give it a dry run. The back of a used envelope served as my zone of experiment. My work looked quite tidy, which surprised me, and fairly aesthetic, which did not!

So, how does it say anything conclusively about me? It is quite possible that my aesthetic sensibilities have become more compact. But, outside of the confines of a signature, I can appreciate the scattered, expansive, and bohemian as much as the minimalist. It could be in art, music, theatre, literature, or even everyday living by way of clothes and food.

Does a signature reveal or deceive, as in put you off the scent, to prevent forgery, to guard oneself?

The ‘messy’ signature of Jack Lew was in the news recently. President Barack Obama has nominated him as US secretary of treasury. If confirmed, his signature will be on every new dollar bill.

A report said, "Obama later added that Jack has assured him that he is going to work to make at least one letter legible in order not to debase the currency..."

While the "series of spirals" do look unusual, how would it debase the currency? Does anyone even look at it closely? In fact, its idiosyncrasy could well make it recognisable and prevent against fakes. The President did joke that had he seen this, he might have decided against the nomination.

I am told that some companies check on signatures when they hire people. Apparently, it is a good enough gauge of personality. Even if it is, individuals in a work environment need not be identical to 'who' they are as opposed to 'what' they are. Situations throw up challenges that test one's mettle and occasionally force one to go against type.

Not being an expert, and clueless about him, I'd still take a go at Mr Lew's signature in the spirit of fun.

To begin with, it looks like a pair of his own glasses reflected on a glass-topped table. He gives the impression of being gregarious, but soon clams up. Is ready to extend himself if there is a defined goal.

He seems to like eggs, curvy women, and perhaps Woody Allen films. He reads Harry Potter when no one's looking.

And chances are that he'd like seeing the Olympic rings in a laughing mirror than at a stadium.

Is this about Lew or about me? Or, a perception of a perception? I guess, it's time to sign off...

Is English an island?

How English is English?  Will we ever know why an editor deleted several words of foreign origin from the Oxford English Dictionary? Was he a racist? Or a purist? In the socio-historical context, both these words have been used interchangeably a few times. Nazism and apartheid do believe they uphold purity of a race.

How does language fare as far as this is concerned?

There is a touch of espionage in the manner in which OED’s editor Robert Burchfield went about the process of erasing. Sarah Ogilvie, a former OED editor, writes in her book 'Words of the World' that he started a rumour that the earlier editors were resistant to outside influences. Her research revealed quite the opposite:

"I observed a pattern, that actually it was the earlier editors who were dealing with words in a really enlightened way. They certainly weren't these Anglocentric, judging kind of editors – they were very sensitive to cultural differences and they seemed to be putting in a lot of foreign words and a lot of words from different varieties of English, which must have been amazing for that day when colonial varieties of English were just emerging.”

I’d like to interject here. Foreign words are not the same as different varieties of English. A foreign word may or may not be used in an English context, but has been absorbed into it. Therefore, these are not “loan words”; they are borrowed, or more appropriately, absorbed words. Do they make the English language richer?

As someone from a country that was once colonised, but who has benefited from an education where English was the primary language, I used to try and stick to Anglo-Saxon words when writing, unless they were snatches of conversations. I did make a departure in my columns when I used Hindi headlines occasionally. The bold typeface in 24-point would stare defiantly at the reader. It may sound strange, if not cheesy, but the titles usually come to me first when I mull over the topic I am to write about. I discovered that it connects. Of course, overdoing it would not work.

I still avoid using common Latin and French phrases, but where would our courts be without suo moto and how would we explain that something is the raison d’être? We can indeed go on with several examples. The question here is: how malleable should language be? Let us not forget that it is not merely a literary tool.

When the OED was in its liberal phase, Ogilvie quotes a reviewer who wrote: “There is no surer or more fatal sign of the decay of a language than in the interpolation of barbarous terms and foreign words.”

Can we talk about these two in the same breath? Barbarous, says the OED, means “coarse and unrefined” in the context of language. It could include slang and curse words; they might be seen to degenerate the language. Do foreign words do the same? Is not slang based on specific colloquialisms? Swear words too, which Ogilvie states were in fact introduced by Burchfield, may have varied ethnic roots.  If they are not included in a dictionary, it could well mean they are not seen as polite or do not fit into the politically-correct paradigm. Are they, then, reliable? I discovered that William Gladstone had written a letter to The Times and found this word that we use so regularly as “vile”. Reliable is American. Ain’t that groovy?

Burchfield deleted 17 per cent of the words included by his predecessors and they were all of foreign origin. However, from the reports, they don’t seem to be particularly ripe for plucking out. Is it where they came from rather than what they are that bothered him? If he was so convinced, then why did he lie that those words were removed earlier?

Ogilvie said: 

"The only way I can explain him doing it is that, in the scholarly word of linguistics, the 1970s was when the first work on varieties of English started to come about. Maybe he wanted to be seen as part of all that."

It is interesting that while he had problems accepting other words, he led a dichotomous existence that stood up for those words because it was trendy to do so.

Can we not say the same about ourselves? We often use words that are ‘in’, even if we might not have any sympathy or understanding of their origins or what they mean to the societies they come from. Such words are demonised in the course of their literary and political usage. The N word is not uttered, but does it end apartheid towards Blacks? Why has every war become a jihad, when a jihad in its purest sense is not even an external war? Is fatwa really understood for what it is– an opinion passed as an edict by a group/leader that does not have universal sanction and is not binding upon all? Should languages where these words originate from object at their misuse? Even nirvana is employed casually, as though each time a person sits in the lotus yoga position s/he has attained the ultimate freedom from the Self.

However, the English language would be poorer if foreign words did not embellish it, particularly in symbolic form. Some might wish to pronounce a fatwa against them, but for those who strive to better themselves it is time for linguistic jihad. We may or may not produce a magnum opus but, to use a couple of Americanisms, wouldn’t it be fab if it turned out to be awesome? 

(c) Farzana Versey

Sunday ka Funda

"The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them."

- Stephen King

Listen and lose yourself in other words, as I am doing now...

No farting please, we’re Pakistani

A person sitting in Karachi will now be unable to send a text message telling his friend not to be so ‘cocky’ about his entry through the ‘back door’ for a ‘bakwaas’ post. And the woman will have to rein in her articulation about an innocent ‘period’, although she can go ahead with the comma, but dare not tamper with the ‘tampon’.

Pakistan’s Telecommunications Authority has decided that certain words cannot be used anymore for SMSes. No, even if your car is crashing because of a certain failure, you cannot type out ‘headlights’.

I find this quite interesting because the letter sent out to the service providers says that there is a law for preventing information that is “false, fabricated, indecent or obscene” or “in the interest of the glory of Islam”.

A person sitting with thumb on the touch-screen or a tiny keypad is hardly thinking about the glory of the faith. And how does calling someone an ‘idiot’ tarnish the shine of Islam? Interestingly, while ‘padosi ki aulaad’ (offspring of the neighbour) is not allowed, you can type kafir (infidel). No problem. And no ‘Jesus Christ’. Duh?

Apparently, much of it is to stop Pakistanis from getting all sexy, so ‘lick me’, ‘do me’ (not even a favour), ‘S&M’ (M&S is okay, Marks and Spencers will be happy), ‘lotion’ (forget the moisturiser), ‘porn’, ‘gay’, ‘homosexual’ are out. You cannot even be held ‘hostage’ anymore or try ‘harder’ and find a ‘hole’ in the wall. Do not even think about a social ‘intercourse’, and you can suffer pain but do not mention ‘athlete’s foot’. And if you have ‘breasts’, then keep them to yourself. Wear a ‘condom’, but just don’t talk about it.

My concern is that many of such words are used in jokes rather than in real interactions. Okay ‘pussy lick’ and ‘fuck you’ and other stuff may be real, but who thinks about ‘monkey crotch’?

And here is this gem: ‘Chipkali ke gaand ke pasine’ (sweat off the 'anus' – another banned word – of a lizard). That is really deep.

So, here’s to my friends in Pakistan: 'Padosi ki aulad', you cannot claim to not have a ‘foreskin’ anymore.

What will happen to the "glory of Islam"?

Puncturing Punctuation

 ? , ; : (...) !

Punctuation marks are to writing what meaningful pauses are to conversation. The comma drama was a yawn that became a sneezing epidemic. In the last couple of days you have been assaulted by the Oxford comma from everywhere. Op-eds in respected journals have quoted from social networking sites where, forget commas, even words are half-chewed to ‘brng on da mt horses’, so to speak.

Therefore, the dirge seems ironic. They have dusted grammar books and are telling us in Moses-like tones that the Oxford comma is a serial comma. My imagination has been running wild ever since as I see a woman (comma does not sound manly enough) wearing an eye-mask, ice pick in hand, going on a murderous spree over lines, slicing them mid-sentence, and killing all ambitions of linguistic rebellion.

The controversy started when some Oxford group announced that there was no need for that comma; it was not meant for the whole world but its muddled academic huddle. People who had no knowledge of that pit-stop between words got agitated. How can you take it away, they asked. In the interest of facts, let me also cite what happens if you desist from the usage of this mark. Should you choose to write, “I ate burgers, fries, and brownies” then you are the Oxford kind. If you write, “I ate burgers, fries and brownies” you are wrong. No, not for eating them, but because you were supposed to add a comely comma before ‘and’. Don’t ask me why. Okay, let me guess: is it to demarcate that the fries are not part of the brownies and the brownies are not mixed in the fries and you have paid for three items and not two?

I love the English language; I love language gliding over tongue and sliding on paper and blinking on monitors. But, I am more than likely to say, “I ate burgers, fries, brownies…” The ‘and’ is an add-on anyway, so a comma with an add-on is just extra cheese.

I do respect technique but not at the expense of a natural flow of words. If there are times I might not be able to communicate adequately, it would be due to the ideas and how they are argued. As I said at the very beginning, punctuation marks are pauses, and pregnant ones at that. Most times, I am in a hurry, my thoughts are rushing past and it would be completely unfair to stop them and give them a dressing down: “Hey, how could you forget to put in that comma there?”

Much of my writing is done without any punctuation marks or as they appear naturally while typing. If after a longish stint with the writing world this does not happen as a matter of course, it might be cause for serious concern. Does it mean there are no bad sentences? Of course there are. I start some with ‘But’, which is not considered quite the right thing to do; others with ‘Because’. I know that there are others words that could easily replace them, but the ‘buts’ and the ‘becauses’ sound right to me; they are sometimes there with a purpose. A style evolves and if writing is as hormonal as it is for me, then I’d be damned to play killjoy and correct fragments. They are meant to be fragments.

My handmaidens are the semi-colon and ellipses. They work best with my writing. And (yes, I also begin sentences with ‘and’) I do hyphenate some terms even though I am told they are considered old-fashioned now.

More importantly, I rarely use the exclamation mark in prose pieces; it is like canned laughter. If some people do not smile back at my smiling words, then they have missed the joke. I haven’t.

Tech that...

It’s maroon-coloured, slick and light. I’d lie down with it propped on my stomach like a baby as words would dribble out of its warm, white mouth. When it fell asleep, bubbles would appear on its chin and rise up to the cheeks. My little notebook with thousands of sentences spanning six months just gave up on me. I made the error of treating it like a big child, one who could take the knocks and could hit a mean punch. It obviously couldn’t; it was not born for that. It was meant to be coddled, taken in a perambulator, stuffed with a nipple in its mouth to keep it quiet and put gently to sleep to save on battery life.

I thought I was doing everything right, except that I did not treat it gently enough. It handled my jabs, my tears, my maniacal laughter, but that day it just curled up. I thought it was a petulant sulk and I poked it, tickled it…there was a gurgle, but no delight in the sound. A balloon came up: “Critical HDD error.” I did not know what HDD was. It sounded like an illness. I persevered. It rebooted many times and it was back again to nothing, although those bubbles did appear. I had not backed up the pictures, the documents, the notes…I did not know this would be over so soon, like a fling, a brief encounter. It did not appear to be this way. After all, it had been with me to protect me when I was laid up, it was there to make me not feel lost, to stand by me and renew me. But this was just another man pretending to be a child.

I should be crying. This is my work, my memories. And they are gone. For now, at least. I may never retrieve it all. But I am not crying, I am not even angry. For me this means taking more pictures, making more notes, finding newer words.

- - -

The dependence on technology frightens me. I have begun to make notes on my cellphone about every little thing. My calendar is full every day – to remind me to get what I have got, to make calls that I will not make, to sleep on time, to wake up, to read, to write…I have not yet posted one that reminds me to breathe.

It disgusts me, for I do have a keen memory. I can remember even what did not happen.

- - -

The other day I misplaced my credit card. The company said it was lost. Lost puts the onus on others; misplaced is about one’s own fault. What is the difference? There is a lost-and-found department, but not a misplaced-and-found department although in the latter case you are more likely to find it. So, I reported lost and all transactions were blocked.

Now began the problems. In order to make my life simple I had signed up for the automatic clearance of certain bills. Poof. Calls, text messages inundated me…the bills were boomeranging. My phone would be cut off. I did not bother, until it got serious. I find these cellphone companies quite funny. You have to go through the whole computerised crap till you reach your desired destination – ‘our executives are busy playing with the dog, your call is as important to us as canine biscuit, so please stay on the line’…then there will be this horribly happy tune playing and finally someone will come and announce who they are. I am unfailingly polite.

I say, “Hi, this is Cleopatra and I want to know where Egypt is”…well, you get the drift. I give them my name, my number, and whatever else they ask.

When I mention my problem, the person at the other end sounds as though a condolence is necessary. “Oh, ma’am, I am so sorry to hear about it.” Huh? Get to work, damn it.

“Can I put you on hold while I check?” Yes, please.

“Sorry to keep you on hold for so long,” says the bloke who has appeared within five seconds.

“So, what do I do now?”

“No problem, F,” (yes, they do get familiar sometimes), “Just log in to our website.”

“Just a minute. I am calling you, so you tell me what I can do.”

“You first pay at our billing centre or through online transaction or the phone, and then we will adjust the amount in the next cycle when your credit card accepts.”

“But my credit card company is ready for you.”

“Please discuss this personal matter with Mr. X who is in change of your account.”

“Is there a Mr X in charge?”

“Yes, yes, he will be happy to help.”

I dial Mr X who listens patiently. He is on the road so will solve the issue as soon as he gets to his office. “It’s all cool,” he says.

“Cool?” He really said it and told me not to worry since I am an old customer and have never reneged on any payment. I feel like a prison inmate who has been let out on bail.

Problem is almost getting solved. I send an email. One little glitch. I typed out my number wrong!

Poke, poke, poke. Little note. Reminder. Call hotline. Send email saying I am me, but my number does not have that particular digit, so do make the rectification. I am not paying for someone else.

- - -

The touch screen froze.

Definitely!

Mirriam-Webster’s can keep its austere pragmatism to itself. I’ve got my own ideas. The dictionary has got out its list of top ten words of the year based on what people went sniffing around for.

The real meaning will be available at the site and others, but what are words if they cannot provide some delicious new meanings?


Here are my definitions to the chosen 10:

1. austerity: Ossifying basic needs so that you can have the temerity to pretend you were accustomed to luxuries

2. pragmatic: The ability to brag about being pneumatic

3. moratorium: Putting a stop to morals at the last minute.

4. socialism: A political ideology that allows you to socialise without feeling guilty

5. bigot: A shortened term for big idiot

6. doppelganger: A gangster who is trying to repel his dope habit

7. shellacking: A lack of shells to chuck

8. ebullient: A schizophrenic bullish attitude that is always close to turning lenient

9. dissident: Someone who disses anything that lacks teeth

10. furtive: The use of fur to pretend to be what you are not


I have never been a dictionary junkie even though I love words. When I was young, I would mark the ones I did not know the meanings of and try to figure out what they meant in the sentence, within the context. It was a long process, but exciting. I was often wrong, but I was right too. How did I know? I asked people who did. It gave me an opportunity to discover words, discover the possibility of their usage and to know how much others knew!

I find the idea of people who are interested in current affairs running to check words that are used quite commonly rather curious. Some would consider it a step towards knowledge. In a way, it is. But, if the word ‘austerity’ has made it on the basis of the hits during a time of crisis, in Greece to begin with, where people went on strike and there was acute shortage of essentials, then I find this sort of intelligence seeking mercenary, taking the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’ to another level of was bliss.

Besides, dictionary definitions can be rather limiting. Each culture has such wonderful colloquialisms and slang and meshing of dialects to include in the mainstream of English that a static definition just cannot convey. Purists would look down upon it, but then purists happily gorge on Latin proverbs and those French exclamations and Spanish forms of address to make perfectly capable Anglo-Saxon look like a mixed-up soup. If that’s what we permit, then let’s just add various condiments and learn the language of our thoughts. So, what’s on your mind?

Countdown to the One Millionth Word?

This is among the worst instances of dumbing down. They are catering to everyone’s fantasy of concern - something from fashion, pop culture, the greens, music, sports; they are also trying to balance cultures and countries.

Tomorrow, June 10th, 2009 at 10:22 am (Stratford-on Avon Time) The Global Language Monitor in Austin, Texas will announce the winning word. I find the location rather quaint. Maybe these Texans just wanna go on vacation. Are you not all excited to know whether Indian women’s panties, “cuddies”, will get the green signal or will it be the real green McCoy, locally- produced “locavores” that are part of “slow food” which isn’t fast?

Now, there is something for fast moms called “octomom” that is, believe it or not, “the media phenomenon of the mother of the octuplets”. Huh? Do the sperms like consult newspapers and TV channels about how to hit different ova at the same time so that you get a few nice bundles of eight?

You can “de-friend” someone from your social network and if you send them steamy messages via email you will be “sexting” them. You may send steam and sauna in other ways, but there is no word for it.

The US President's popularity would be “Obamamania”, which is kind of lame, but what is surprising is “Mobama” – relating to the fashion-sense of the US First Lady. I thought it would be green, given her penchant for dresses and gowns that look like they are made from feathers or the colour of flora and fauna.

After the success of the film Slumdog Millionaire, two words from India figure. “Slumdog” would qualify as slang although it goes under the ‘politically incorrect’ category and “refers disparagingly to someone living in the slums”. If it is disparaging, then why is it qualifying at all? And “Jai ho” is a phrase taken from a song.

The issue is not with words from varied cultures; English language speakers and writers do employ Latin, French, Spanish phrases, and ancient English is nothing quite like we know it now.

My quarrel is with the limited idea of “the coming of age of English as the first, truly global language”. One does not need to blow trumpets to announce such an event. Languages evolve and those speaking it in different countries add bits and pieces of the local dialect. No one goes to check whether such a word has been anointed by the English dictionary or this gimmick.

But these Language Monitor people are serious:

“Due to the global extent of the English language, the millionth word is as likely to appear from India, China, or East Los Angeles as it is to emerge from Stratford-Upon-Avon, Shakespeare’s home town.”

This isn’t expanding the horizons but clasping them in a clinch to draw attention to their ethnicity. How does it add to a language?

The Chosen Word will depend on citations, usage, appearances in the media, the Net, blogs and networking sites. This is just to confirm the celebrity status of the words, irrespective of whether they make sense or not.

Poland’s contribution is about predatory lending practices, bankers behaving like gangsters. Every stud imagines he is a “bangster”. I don’t even want to think about some guy in a suit and tie ripping me off my money…even if he is one in a million.

We’d be poles apart.

Trapped by cliches?

I have always believed that clichés become clichés because they express sentiments or reality continually. Language has given us the ability to use these in fascinating ways or in contexts they are not used in often.

The demonising of clichés has made simple words into a stuttering heap of convoluted phrases. Genuine intent becomes suspect. Take the word interesting. One may find something interesting, that is holding interest, remarkable, exciting, worthy of note, even motivating.

However, one has been told that when you don’t have anything to say about a work just call it interesting. Such a fiend it has been transformed into that I shudder when receiving it as a comment or a compliment.

These thoughts are a response to a report in The Telegraph that mentions such phrases in the English language that gets people all riled up.

The top ten most irritating phrases according to the book:

1. At the end of the day
2. Fairly unique
3. I personally
4. At this moment in time
5. With all due respect
6. Absolutely
7. It's a nightmare
8. Shouldn't of
9. 24/7
10. It's not rocket science

The reference is to their wrong or loose usage. There would be occasions, though, when such phrases convey just what they are.

There is an at the end of the day, which is night.

And while uniqueness cannot be measured, so fairly unique seems off, there are yardsticks where we do think of better than the best which should properly be the end of the measure.

I personally is careless, but think about the possibility of the one uttering it as taking responsibility twice over!

Is there something drastically wrong with at this moment in time? If so, then we must cringe at the constant reference to now.

With all due respect is of course worth a smile. It reveals and revels in obsequiousness. If it is said with a dash of sarcasm, it might make mincemeat of the one it is addressed to.

It’s a nightmare is often used for anything other than a nightmare, therefore it could possibly take on metaphorical connotations.

It’s not rocket science. I suppose rocket science is hugely difficult to fathom, although it is not quantum physics would work as well with me. Absolutely!

- - -

The friend who sent me this link added in his note:

“Do you want to try a search for these phrases on your blog? I bet that you'll get zero or nearly zero on most counts. You are too creative to use clichés."

I replied:

You'd be surprised but I don't even need to check.

I personally feel at the end of the day you cannot be fairly unique 24/7. It's a nightmare absolutely and at this moment in time it is not rocket science.

With all due respect ;)

~F

More seriously, one looks for and tries to not fall into the cliché trap, but if the effort shows then it is one more example of words flexing their muscles. Words with a toned body are nice; watching them sweat it out in a gym is not.

Folds

Cotton silk. Two disparates. Coming together. Woven. Warp and weft. Coloured red. Darkened deeper. Splashed. Touch the fabric. Without me. Soft. It folds. Between them. Me. Lie a hundred secrets. Open them. Discover. The rough edge. The smooth soul. The knife. The pain. Jab. It’s only fabric.