Dear friends,
Venantius J. Pinto (message #5. GD IV, Issue 441) has made some very useful
observations.
(1) « Perhaps I should have also asked my mother. »
Yes. This is the first thing we could do before rushing to some research
institute run by people living in ivory towers. Our parents and grandparents,
if available at hand, are our best resources of the Konkani lexicon. In the
absence of these, consult some wizened old Goan, especially someone who has
spent a part of his life in a rural setting; the less lettered the better.
They may not be able to help us if we ask about "horse gram"; but will
certainly come up with an answer if we produce a sample of the commodity in
stead. The answers they produce will certainly not be laughable, unless you
try to literally translate them into English!
(2) « Hearty laughs aside--it could be possible that there is more than
one name. »
At first I thought it was meant to be a howler like the ones that do the usual
rounds. (Churchill does not have a monopoly on these; lecturers in the two
oldest colleges in Goa have been ascribed the authorship of quite a few. I
remember, in Mumbai we used to have fun coining hilarious English translations
of Hindi/Gujrati expressions and vice versa; one of my colleagues, a Parsi, was
very good at this.) But the mention of the name of the research institute told
me that this was no joke. Had it not been for this, I would have continued
taking it as a joke and not have reacted at all.
But yes, more than one name is possible for the same thing and one name for two
different things too. For instance, a toad is "mannki" in Bardez but "bebki"
in Salcete. To make matters worse, "mannki" means not only cuttlefish but also
a stuffed pancake roll, in Salcete. Similarly "borkoi" means the hard, sectile
("kapo") variety of jackfruit to the south of Zuari but to the north of the
river, it stands for the limp, juicy ("rosall") variety. There are many such
examples, but none of the names is a literal translation of the English
equivalent. This is the speciality of names coined by the research institute.
In barely a couple of decades, it has accomplished what the Portuguese could
not during their rule of four and half centuries – given a Lusitanian flavour
to Konkani numerals. They probably think that, before the arrival of the
European conquistadores, our forefathers could not count beyond twenty. Our
numerals (following twenty) have
been renamed as "vis ani ek" (21), "vis ani don" (22)…… to be analogous with
the Portuguese "vinte e um", "vinte e dois"…… instead of the time-tested
"ekvis", "bavis" …… . Very soon we should not be surprised to find names like
"bailelem bott", "unddeachem foll" and "dhola boddiancho rukh" for ladyfinger
("bhenddo"), breadfruit ("nirponnos") and drumstick tree ("mhoxing")
respectively. I am not trying to be facetious. This has already happened some
time ago. In a Konkani essay published in The Goan Review, the author (Lino
Dourado, if I mistake not) used the word "toranj" and gave its English
equivalent, grapefruit, within brackets for the benefit of readers unfamiliar
with the Konkani word. A reader (who is also a Konkani writer) objected to
"grapefruit" by saying that the Konkani translation of grapefruit would be
"dakam foll" (grape = dak and fruit = foll in Konkani) and toranj has no
connection whatsoever with grapes! When I pointed
to the fallacy and hilarity of his contention, he conveyed his annoyance
through a letter to the editor.
(3) « To know Konknni at the level I would like to would take me 40 years
of uninterrupted study. »
This is a very optimistic estimate. With the method he has adopted, i.e.
obtaining stray Konkani words occasionally from Goanetters, even 40X40 years
will not suffice. If he is really serious, he should try the following: (1)
Buy Konkani periodicals and books. (2) Read (study) them with a pencil in
hand. (3) Mark the unfamiliar words/expressions and note their meanings; the
context will help in most cases, but keep a dictionary handy. (In the instant
case, instead of rushing to the research centre, were he to consult Gurunath
Kelekar's English Konkani Dictionary, he would have found "kullid" against
"horse gram". Perhaps the research centre does not stock Konkani
dictionaries!) I have found this method very successful for building my
Konkani vocabulary; earlier I had used the same to build my English vocabulary
with equal success. I hope Venantius gives it a try, and I assure him that he
will be able to accomplish his goal in a much shorter time
than he anticipates. To know a language, it is not enough to get the English
meaning of some of its words; one must also know their respective correct
usage. And this can be got only by hearing/reading them in use.
(4) « In general, what is also fascinating on Goanet is that people in the
know wait a long time to put out information they are privy to. Perhaps they
are busy, or choose not to be the first ones out of the gates. »
Let me clarify that I am not a regular netizen who is on line 24X7; I am just
an occasional visitor. I am only a student of Konkani, not a learned pundit.
And teaching Konkani to the world at large is not my mission in life. I feel
intensely for my language and, time permitting, intervene only when I perceive
some danger to it. In the present case the danger was pollution of the rich
Konkani lexicon with unnecessary verbiage of the base kind which goes against
its very grain. I feel that every Goan must resist these attempts to
bastardize the language.
Sotachench zoit zatolem.
Mog asum.
Sebastian Borges
On 29 Apr 2009, Venantius Pinto <[email protected]> wrote:
++++++++++++++
Thanks Mr. Borges for adding to our understanding.
++++++++++++++
In general, what is also fascinating on Goanet is that people in the know wait
a long time to put out information they are privy to. Perhaps they are busy, or
choose not to be the first ones out of the gates. Hearty laughs aside--it could
be possible that there is more than one name. But I cannot attest to that, only
surmise--and that too perhaps wrongly.
Perhaps I should have also asked my mother. Who knows we would have a third
option and some more laughs.
This also reminded me that on the one occasion I had inquired on Goanet for
words related to sexuality in Konknni, only to be met by nothing but silence.
To know Konknni at the level I would like to would take me 40 years of
uninterrupted study. So one takes what one gets, till proven wrong or
corrected--on the way encountering varying degrees of graciousness.
venantius j pinto
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