I will talk a little today about the Farsi words currently in use in Bengali. The distortion or alteration of vowel sounds is very important in any language. The first thing to say about Farsi is that there is some confusion regarding u and o in Farsi and languages related to Farsi. Kut́hi and kot́hi, dukán and dokán – the interchangeability of u and o is accepted as an unwritten rule in many languages. In Hindustani one says dukán but in Bhojpuri, Maethilii, Magahii and Angika one says dokán. In Bengali one also says dokán. In Farsi there is a difference between words of masculine and feminine gender but this does not affect the verbs as it does in Urdu and Hindi. Most of the languages descended from Prákrta, with the exception of Mágadhii, have two genders, masculine and feminine, much the same as in French. In the languages descended from Shaorasenii Prákrta (Bundelii, Bághelii, Avadhii, Vraja, Hariyánavii) the difference in gender can be seen in the genitive case, just as in French. However the difference is that the French verb has three different forms – masculine, feminine and plural while in Hindustani there are four forms – masculine singular, masculine plural, feminine singular and feminine plural. For example: Laŕká já rahá hae; laŕke já rahe haen; laŕkii já rahii hae; and laŕkiyán já rahii haen. In Shaorasenii Prákrta ka is added to the end of a word to indicate masculine gender and kii to indicate feminine gender, while in the masculine plural or to show respect ke is placed before the word. In Mágadhii Prákrta, as in Bengali, Oriya, Assamese, Maethilii, Bhojpuri, Angika, Magahii, Chattrishgaŕii, Nágpurii, etc., there is no difference between masculine, feminine and neuter genders in the genitive case. For example: Rámer bhái [Ram’s brother], Rámer bon [Ram’s sister], Siitár bhái [Siita’s brother], Siitár bon [Siita’s sister].

In Farsi both u and o can be used with the same meaning, but in the Shaorasenii Prákrta descendants u is used. Take, for example, dukán – here dokán cannot be used. And in the languages that come from Mágadhii Prákrta, the o pronunciation is seen, that is, the pronunciation will be dokán, not dukán. In Hindustani the word dukán is used in both masculine and feminine genders, but if the word is used in feminine gender then it is spelled dukán (with u) and if it is used in masculine gender it is spelled dúkán (with ú). In other words, merii dukán [my shop] but merá dúkán. In Hindustani the possessive case changes in this way according to gender. Hindi and Urdu follow Farsi but in Farsi there is no change in gender in the possessive case. Gender is connected with the verb in Hindi and Urdu but not in Farsi, so Farsi is quite easy to learn.

People certainly do not understand everything they see or hear. One person understands while another person does not. One who has sufficient thinking capacity can understand and one who understands is samajhdár. The word samajh is of Farsi origin. The Sanskrit-derived word for it is bojha which comes from the Sanskrit bodha. In Prákrta the light Sanskrit dha becomes ha and the hard dha becomes jha. For example, dadhi becomes dahi [yoghurt] while sandhyá becomes sanjha → sánjh [evening] and bandhyá → banjhá → bánjhá [barren]. Here the dha becomes jha because it is a hard dha. Similarly bodha becomes bojha. The word bojha is used for the English “to understand” in the languages derived from Mágadhii Prákrta. For example, ámi bujhlum, tumi bujhle, hammá bujhae nyay páraichiye. But in the languages derived from Shaorasenii Prákrta, the Farsi word samajh is used instead of the Sanskrit-derived word bojhá. In these languages the word bojhá means “to be extinguished”, for the example, “the light went out”. In Hindi one says vattii bujh gayii. I have just said that in the Mágadhii Prákrta-derived languages the word bojhá means “to understand”, thus these languages do not use the root verb bojh to mean “to be extinguished”. In these languages “the light went out” would be translated by vattii but gelai or vattii but gaila.

The word samajhdár as used in Bengali clearly comes from Farsi. If it had been half-Bengali, half-Farsi then it would have been bujhdár. I have heard the word bujhdár used in the villages of Hooghly District.

I was talking about the use of Farsi words in Bengali. There are a great number of Farsi words in Bengali. It should be noted here that these Farsi words have either entered into Bengali in altered form, been altered after entering the language, or else there has been an attempt to Sanskritize them while in other cases they have retained their proper form. For example, the Farsi word adálat has become ádálat in Bengali; the Farsi mukadmá has become mokaddamá; pasiind has become pachanda; hadd has become haddo; khudá became khodá (of course in this case I have already discussed the mutual interchange between u and o); kacharii became káchári; bandowasta became bandovasta; kaká became káká.⁽¹⁾ There are some nouns in Bengali which use the Farsi suffixes dár, gar, and kár. For example, one who understands is samajhdár; one who is in debt is denádár; the owner of a shop is dokándár. Similarly, páonádár [creditor], jamidár [landlord], dildár [open-hearted], and so on. Many people improperly say deldár instead of dildár. Of course the Farsi word dil is used in Bengali but many people distort the pronunciation and say del although the actual pronunciation of the word is somewhere between dil and del – do del bándá kalmá cor / ná páy vehast ná páy gor. The correct Bengali pronunciation of what we call jamidár in Bengali is either jamindár or jamiindár. The above mentioned words are all Farsi – they are neither Bengali, nor Sanskrit, nor even Indian, but what does that actually matter? These words belong to the language of human beings. We are using them and will continue to do so. A language is enriched by plucking words from other languages and incorporating them, thereby increasing its expressive power. No manner of touchability or untouchability can be allowed in this respect, otherwise a language will run into difficulties. One cannot simply remain inside one’s house collecting brinjals from the courtyard garden with a rake and deny the existence of the great vanaspati tree while refusing to set foot outside. If we do not enrich our own mother tongues or other languages by incorporating words from outside then our condition will become like that of a person who shuts their doors and windows in the middle of the day and then cries out for fear of the dark. Open your doors and windows. Let the outside light and air in and make yourself healthy. Who can deny the fact that the noble attitude of gathering words from other languages has contributed to the enrichment of Bengali? Thus none of these words have been dropped from Bengali, right from jádugar to dildár, hukamdár and mansavdár.

“One who has ján, or life,” is jándár. “One who has ján” is also called jánvar if the Farsi suffix var is added to the root word ján. However when doing so one should keep in mind the difference in usage between the suffixes dár and var. All living creatures who have ján are jándár, but those who, despite having ján, do not have a great deal of intellect are jánvar (jánowár – animal), derived by adding the suffix var to the root word ján. As human beings we do not fall in this category, that is, human beings are not jánvar despite being jándár.

Another Farsi word used in Bengali is hukkávardár. When the Europeans arrived in this country they used to wear beautiful dhotis and Panjabis and smoke tobacco. They were the ones who brought tobacco here.⁽²⁾ In the beginning they used to use a coconut hookah (d́ábá-hunko) for smoking.⁽³⁾ The Mughal emperors, as part of aristocracy, introduced the hubble-bubble which was fashioned out of metal and had a long reed attached. Later this hubble-bubble became a symbol of the aristocracy. At that time they used to use gold and silver hubble-bubbles. It was most likely the Empress Nurjahan who introduced the hubble-bubble. Smoking tobacco in a hookah, however, presupposes a certain inconvenience. One cannot carry a hookah around in one’s pocket as one does with cigarettes, so an employee used to walk behind them carrying the hookah. Such a person was called a hukkávardár which is a Farsi word. When a European would feel the need for a smoke they would call out: E hukkávardár, t́um keyá kart́a hae, t́um hukká le ao [Heh, hukkávardár, what are you doing, bring the hookah.]

The meaning of the word hukmdár is “one who is prepared to obey a hukum [order]”. The English for hukmdár is “orderly” which has become árdálii in Bengali. The word hukumdár in Bengali comes from the word hukmdár. “One who obeys the commands of God” is called hukm-i-rám or hukmiirám. You will still find a few Hukmiirám Singhs in northwest India. We can pose the question here whether or not the word hukmdár is actually Farsi, even though it appears to be at first glance. There are many Urdu and Farsi scholars who are not quite sure where the word comes from. Actually the word is English. It arrived in India by way of Europe initially, then Turkey and finally Persia. In this process it underwent changes. Actually it comes from the English “Who come there?” When an on-duty military person would see unknown persons approaching they would ask “Who come there?” In answer, the approaching person, if everything was above-board, would raise their hands and call out “friend” (dost in Hindustani). Anyhow the word hukmdár comes from this “Who come there?” Here dár is not an example of a suffix. We do not remember this fact but not remembering does not mean forgetting.

Bhule tháká se to nay bholá
Vismrtir marme vasi
Rakte mor diyecho je dolá

[Not remembering does not mean forgetting
sitting in the heart of oblivion
you have stirred my blood]

We all want to keep our loved ones close to us always but ultimately it is not possible to do so. According to the law of nature everything passes away. We have to let everyone go away. We cannot say “I won’t let you go” and keep them confined. One day they are close to us and the next day they are gone. The day that they left our side we broke into tears but today we are no longer crying. But does that mean we have forgotten? We have not forgotten even if we do not remember. Similarly, even though we do not remember the origin of those Farsi words which nowadays have become an inseparable part of the Bengali language, they have not disappeared into the bottomless pit of oblivion, nor can they ever.

The Farsi word saodágar [merchant], that is, “one who understands trade”, has the suffix gar added. Jádugar means “one who knows or understands jádu [magic]”. It is worth mentioning that some people spell the word jádukar instead of jádugar. They see this as being formed by adding kr + al to the root word jádu, but this is incorrect. Jádu is a Farsi word. By adding the Farsi suffix gar we get jádugar which means “one who knows or understands magic”, so the spelling jádukar is incorrect from top to bottom. The Sanskrit synonym is vájikara. Kara is a Sanskrit suffix. Farsi does not have a suffix kar. The word kár which is found in Farsi is not a suffix. Kár means “work” [káj] in Farsi (The word kám [work] which is currently used in Hindi comes from the Sanskrit karma; it is also used in rural Bengali). The word káj is also used in Maethilii – ehan káj ham ná sakab. Some people spell káj with ya instead of ja. This is downright wrong. Antahstha ya is only used at the beginning of a word. In the middle or at the end of a word its pronunciation becomes “ia”, thus if someone spells káj with ya instead of ja then it is read as káy instead of káj. Incidentally I should point out that many people spell iurop [Europe] as yurop. This is also wrong. If ya occurs at the beginning of a word then it is pronounced like ja [antahstha ya], thus if iurop is spelled yurop its pronunciation becomes “Jurope” – quite difficult, indeed.

So, I was discussing the Farsi word kár which means “work”. “One who knows or understands work” is kár-i-gar = kárigar [workman]. “The place where work is performed” is kárkháná [factory]. The meaning of the word kháná is “a place dedicated to a specific purpose”. Likewise there are many Farsi words in Bengali which include kár such as kárcupi [deception], kárvár [business], kársáji [fraud], bekár [unemployed], etc.

The Farsi word kháná is also used extensively in Bengali. In addition to kárkháná, there is báburcikháná [Islamic kitchen], gosalkháná [bathroom], páykháná [latrine], jimkhána, iyatimkháná [orphanage], musáphir kháná [traveller’s inn], d́áktárkháná [doctor’s dispensary], málkháná [storehouse], lauṋgarkháná [almshouse], dávákháná [pharmacy] in Hindustani, and so on. There is no need to study Farsi in order to learn the words that have been given here as examples because these words have become a part of Bengali as well as many other Indian languages.

Earlier I mentioned that both u and o are used in Farsi. It is worth mentioning in this context that there is a mutual interchange between u and o in the Sylhet dialect of Bengali as well as a partial interchange in one or two others of the twelve Bengali dialects.

Váior suke ján diva galáy diva churi
O hániph áisa go áisa áisa loye madinár báŕii
Áisa go madinár luke
Galáy galáy milire, galáy galáy mili

[I am prepared to die in separation from my brother. I shall stab myself to death. O Hanif, take me to Madina. Come on, people of Madina, let us embrace each other warmly. ]

I have heard a sailor from Sylhet working on a ship called rom and also rum.

There is a word in Bengali, ujir [prime minister], which comes from Farsi. It is pronounced vazir (here the va is antahstha va.) A similar Farsi word is vakil which we have made into ukil [lawyer] in Bengali. Vakálat is almost always called okálati [legal profession]. No one will even bat an eye if someone says vakálatnámá, so accustomed have we become to the word. There is a common word in Bengali, ojan, which does not actually begin with o but with antahstha va, exactly like vazir. This Farsi word entered Bengali in distorted form so that nowadays if someone pronounces it correctly most people will either laugh or think that this poor fellow has not learned the proper pronunciation. It is almost as if there were a conspiracy to mistake God for a ghost. In my childhood I used to say ám [mango] instead of ánb. When I grew up I learned that ánb is comparatively more correct than ám. I also used to make jokes with my friends in Burdwan about the way people from Calcutta said ánb – you all say ba instead of ma, you call your Mámá [maternal uncle] Bábá [father], don’t you? Now, of course, after learning what is correct, I try to say ánb although ám comes out due to habit. If anyone makes a joke about saying ánb I tell them: You say ba instead of ma, you call your Bábá Mámá, don’t you?

There are also some Farsi words in Bengali formed with dár. For example, jelládár, imándár [having faith], caokiidár, daphádár [cavalry officer], páhárádár [sentinel], and so on. There is a heaven and hell difference between the Bengali pronunciation of jamidár and the Farsi pronunciation. If the consonant na occurs at the end of a word in Farsi then na is dropped and the preceding letter is nasalized, especially if na occurs in the first word of a compound word. Thus jamin can become jamiin. For this reason one can also say jamiindár for jamindár in Farsi. However in Bengali the word is mistakenly pronounced jamidár. Hindustán, gulistán, pákistán, and so on, follow the same pattern. Stán is rendered in English as “stan”. Bear in mind that the concerning Sanskrit word for stán is sthánam. The Farsi word stán comes from the Vedic word sthánam, however this Vedic word has remained unaltered in Sanskrit. Sthánam becomes t́hánam in Prákrta, t́hánvii in Demi-Prákrta and t́háini in old Bengali. The word t́háni in modern Bengali is used quite readily in colloquial speech and in some poetry. T́hinyá in Angika comes from this t́háni and t́hiyá as well as thinyá were used in Rarhi Bengali in olden times. For example, svámiisthána → sáni t́hiiná → sánithiyá. In the Bengali of twelve hundred years ago one finds this verse:

Sone bharitii karuńá návii
Rúpá thoi náhika t́hánvii

[The boat of compassion is overfull with gold. There is no room for silver.]

And in modern Bengali also Rabindranath has written:

T́háni nái t́háni nái chot́a e tarii
Ámárai sonára dháne giyeche bhari

[This is a very small boat. There is no more room for anything else. It is overflowing with the wealth of my golden harvest.]

At any rate, all of these words come from the Vedic word sthánam, including the Farsi word stán.

The Farsi word for the English “camp” or “outpost” is caokii. “One who oversees the caokii, or is the master of it”, is called caokiidár. Similarly, phaojdár means “one who controls a phaoj, or army”. The word saenika [soldier] in Sanskrit is masculine singular and sená [army] is feminine plural. In ancient India sená used to be attached to girls’ names, for example, Devasená, Vasantasená, and so on. Devasená was the name of the wife of the Paoranik god Kárttika; for that reason one of his names was Devasenápati.⁽⁴⁾ The word házrá, which is used in Bengali, refers to a specific military rank or post. The commander of one thousand (hazár in Farsi) soldiers was a hazárá. This is mistakenly called házrá. Similarly, the actual Farsi word is “Hazáribág” [name of a city]. However when we say “Házáribág” in Bengali we do not see anyone laughing, that is, the incorrect pronunciation has been accepted.

During the Pathan and Mughal eras a province was known as a suvá and the governor of a province was called suvádár or suvedár. Similarly, mansavdár is the title of a military section. The commander of a small number of soldiers is called náyaka in Sanskrit. The pat́t́anáyaka was the head of a certain number of náyakas. The Bengali word pát́a comes from the word pat́t́a. The word pát́aráńii [queen-consort] from fairy tales comes from pat́t́aráńii. In many parts of east Bengal pát́a [jute] is also called kaśt́á. The word kaśt́a comes from the Sanskrit word kaśt́aka which means “fibre”.

There are many Farsi words in Bengali which have dast attached to them, for example, darájdast [generous], dastáná [glove], dastábej [document], dastakhat [signature], dastidár, and so on. Dast in Farsi means “hand”. One whose hand is very generous is darájdast. The hand’s mark is dastakhat. That which is worn on the hand is dastáná. A hand’s written evidence is dastábej. One who is leader of the government or the rulers is dastidár. There are many people in Bengal who have the surname Dastidár.

Earlier it was mentioned that efforts have been made to turn some of those Farsi words currently used in Bengali into Sanskrit while others have become altered. For example, “one who has hunsh, or consciousness” is called honshiyár in Farsi; it has become hunshiyár in Bengali. Likewise, mihannat has undergone alteration and become mehanat in Bengali. All Farsi words which end in at are feminine in gender. This rule is also followed in Hindi and Urdu. For example, mehanat karnii hae. Even though the words gát, mát, bhát and so on, end in át, they are masculine. For example, Siita ne bhát kháyá. Bhát is masculine, thus it becomes Siita ne bhát kháyá. On the other hand: Rám ne rot́ii kháyii. Rot́ii is feminine, thus Rám ne rot́ii kháyii. The word bhát [cooked rice] comes from the Prákrta word bhatta. It is not a Sanskrit word. The Sanskrit for bhát is odanam. The word rot́ii [bread], however, comes from the Sanskrit word rot́iká. The Hindi word capátii [a flat, unleavened bread] comes from the Sanskrit word carpat́iká. There is no Sanskrit-derived word in either Hindi or Bengali for the Sanskrit somáliká. The Hindi synonym for somáliká is puri [fried, unleavened bread]; if it is fried in strained ghee then it is called luci in Bengali. Even though the word luci comes from Farsi and remains in use in three languages, Panjabi, Kashmiri and Urdu, luci has become a native Bengali word. Thus luci, nuci; leci, neci, can be used equally – none of them can be labelled incorrect.

There are many fruit names in Bengali which are of Farsi origin. For example, aḿgur [grape] (áungur in Bengali and drákśá in Sanskrit), bedáná [pomegranate], kismis [raisin], pestá [pistachio] and khovánii [apricot] are all Farsi words. Ánáras [pineapple] is an Iberian word. The Portuguese brought this fruit to India from the western Indian archipelago. The fruit’s real pronunciation is ánánas but since it is a juicy [rasál] fruit it has been given the name ánáras in Bengali. There are two varieties of pineapple in Bengal, the variety brought from the western Indian archipelago and the variety brought from the eastern Indian archipelago. The eastern Indian archipelago pineapple, which we normally call the Singapore pineapple, is large in size and thornless, while the western Indian archipelago pineapple, which we normally call the Báruipurii pineapple, is smaller in size, golden-coloured and has thorns. None of the pineapples which grow in Tripura and Assam are native to this country; they have been brought from the eastern Indian archipelago. The mango (ám or ánb) has been previously discussed. Generally the word ám is used more frequently in Bengali although the word ánb is more correct.

The word jám [Indian blackberry] in Bengali comes from the Sanskrit word jambuphalam. In north India jám is called jámun. What we call peyárá [guava] in Bengali is called jám in Madhya Pradesh and Rajasthan (in Marwari). Guava is not native to this country. While it is true that guava is called perukam or biijapúrakam in modern Laokika Sanskrit, both of these words are quite recent. The Bengali word piyárá or peyárá and the Marathii word peru (ripe guava is called pikle peru in Marathii) come from the Iberian word piyáro. In the Sylhet and Mymensing areas it is called saphlii ám or soprii ám. It should be kept in mind that there are many words in Bengali which are formed by adding the word soprii meaning “foreign”. For example, the bananas imported from Martaban Province in Burma are called martamán kalá in Calcutta, anupam kalá in north Bengal and soparii kalá in east Bengal. Guava is called ánjir in Rarh. The word ánjir is common in the markets of Siurii, Dumka, Deoghar, Dhanbad, Asansol, Bankura, Purulia and Tata. Guava is called t́ámras in the western outlying areas of Rarh – Jhalda, Muri, Silli, and so on. In Angika it is called sáphlii ám and in Maethilii lat-ám. In Patna, Magadha, Muzaffarpur and Bhojpur it is called ámdhur and in chaste Hindi it is amrúd.

The Sanskrit words for “jackal” are shrgála, shivá, and jambuka or jambu. Jackals like to eat jám; for this reason it is called jambuphala. Another name for jám in Sanskrit is phalendra or phalashreśt́ha. The Hindi word phalendar comes from this phalendra.

The word supárii or supurii is not a Bengali word. Supárii comes from Hindi. The native Bengali word is guvá which comes from the modern Laokik Sanskrit word guvák. Neither the word guvák nor the word puingiphalam are old Sanskrit. They are not even modern, but rather extremely recent. Betel is called kashaelii in Urdu and d́áli in the Lucknow area. One hundred and fifty to two hundred years ago people still used to say guvá in Bengali. One example of this is the neighbourhood in Calcutta called Guvávágán. Betel is still called guvá in north Bengal, certain parts of east Bengal and southwest Rarh. The word guvá has been used extensively in popular verse and doggerel.

Ágád́om, bágádom, ghoŕád́om sáje
Áy rauṋga hát́e jái guvá pán kine khái

[Agadom, Bagadom and Ghoradom are dressing. Let us go to the market and buy betel-nut and betel leaves.]

The word guvá is found in a village rhyme of Mymensing:

Áshmáner cand uiŕyá jáuk re máyáy ghúmáuka shuiyá
Jilkiir águn jal hauk re bandhu duhkhu tor mucháiyá
Gáche gáche d́áuka re pakhii suraj ut́huk re pát́e
Gányer mánuś jáuk re bandhu tomáy laiyá hát́e
Phiiryá ayáisyá bandhu ámár guvá pán kháio
Náo laiyá sháon máse re bandhu náiyar laiyá jáio

The star-apple [jámrul] is not a fruit of Bengal. The Portuguese brought it from southeast Asia. They also brought the custard-apple [átá] from South America. Their names come from that language. Custard-apple is called átá in Bengali and several languages of Bihar. In Urdu it is called shariiphá. There is no name for custard-apple in Sanskrit. The word sitáphala which is used in Laokika Sanskrit is a very recent word. Sitá means “something white” or “sugar” (siita means “cultivated land” or the wife of Rama). Since the fruit is as sweet as sugar it may be for this reason that it was given the name sitáphala in modern Sanskrit. Bengal’s noná fruit [a variety of custard-apple] is also of foreign origin, having been brought from South America. Its actual name is ánonámurikát́á. The Bengali word noná comes from ánoná. It does not have either a Sanskrit or a Hindi name. Nowadays it is called rámphal in Hindi and modern Sanskrit. In present-day English it is called “bullock’s heart”. It may be that some widows in our country will not eat it since it is called “bullock’s heart” in English.

Savedá is a foreign fruit which was also brought by the Portuguese from South America. Its real name is sapot́á. In Bengali it got twisted round and became savedá. In Urdu it has recently been given the name cikku. Pestá (pistá) is a Farsi word. Kánt́ál [jackfruit] comes from the Sanskrit kańt́akiiphalam. The word kańt́aka, or kánt́á [thorn] contains the letter t́a thus it is spelled káńt́ál, not káńt́hál. In Assamese it is called kat́ál and in Bihar and north India kat́hal. Ripe jackfruit is called panasa in Sanskrit. This word panasa is quite prevalent in Oriya, Marathii and in the southern part of Madhya Pradesh. Unripe jackfruit is called encoŕ or incar in Bengali. This is a native Bengali word. If young boys are very precocious we say incaŕe páká.

Kalá [banana] is native to this country. It has two names in Sanskrit, kadalii and rambhá. They are not identical in meaning. Kadalii means kánckalá which are cooked and eaten (Kánckalá and káncá kalá are not the same. The bananas we eat when they ripen, such as cánpá, marttamán and kánt́álii, are called káncá kalá when they are unripe, and those bananas that are cooked as a vegetable when they are green [plantains] are called kánckalá). Rambhá means “ripe banana”. There is a poem in old Bengali:

Oggar bhattá rambháa pattá
Gáika ghittá dugdha sajattá
Nália gacchá moallá macchá
Dijjai kantá kháa punyavantá⁽⁵⁾

There is a certain type of large mango that is available in Bengal which is called phajlii ám. The word phajlii, of course, is Farsi. There is a story behind it. The old Bengali name for this fruit is bálish ám. Once the District Magistrate of Maldah District was going somewhere on horseback. On the way he became tired so he got down from his horse and said to a certain householder’s daughter: “I am thirsty, give me a glass of water.” There is a village custom that if someone wants water then he is given not only water but also a little bit of guŕ or molasses or some such thing. The girl gave the magistrate a mango with his water. The magistrate was astonished to see the size of the mango and he inquired: “What is its name?” The girl thought that the magistrate was asking what her name was so she replied that her name was Phajlii. The sahib thought that the mango’s name was Phajlii and from then on, by the grace of the magistrate, the bálish mango became the phajlii mango.

The pumpkin [lálkumŕo] is not native to this country; it was also probably brought here by the Portuguese from Europe. Since the pumpkin resembles the sun some people in the village areas of Nadia call it súryakumŕo [súrya means “sun”]. The people of Mymensing call it vilátii-láu. The people of Rarh say d́iḿlá, that is, “that láu which has come from a foreign land on a dinghy or a boat”, thus d́iuṋgi láu or d́iḿlá for short. Láu [gourd] is native to this country. Its Sanskrit name is alávu from which comes the word láu. Among other foods whose names have come from Farsi are poláo, koptá, kábáb, korma, viriyáni, shikkábáb, salty poláo, and sweet poláo. We have also gotten their cooking styles from that country.

No one should make the mistake of thinking that damdam is a Farsi word. There used to be two adjacent villages north of Calcutta, Sinthi and Ghughud́áuṋgá. After a military encampment was established there during the British time they used to hold the customary drill and target practice so there was the constant sound damádam, damádam [boom boom]. Thus the people of the surrounding villages gave it the name damdamá and that became damdam among the British. The actual Bengali name is Damdamá. The people of the nearby villages may still be using the word Damdamá. When the young girls from the village would go to Sealdah station to buy a ticket they would tell the ticket master: “Ticketmaster Sir, please give me a ticket to Ghughud́áuṋgá.” Similarly, when buying a ticket for Jessore they would say: “Ticketmaster Sir, please give me a ticket to Kasbá.” When this Kasbá was the district headquarters of Jessore District during British rule its name became replaced by the name of the district, Jessore. Bear in mind that there are a number of Kasba’s and Cándmáris in the 24 Paraganas District. There was a village Cándmárii between Chakdah and Harińghát́á of the then Nadia District at what is now the border between 24 Paraganas and Nadia. The name of its railway station was also Cándamárii. After independence its name was changed to Kalyáńii. Kasbá is a Farsi word; it means “a place which is a large collection and distribution centre [mańd́ii] despite not being very big”. The word mańd́ii is also Farsi. Its native Bengali synonym is postá (shunte pelum postá giye/tomár náki meyer viye [I have heard at the postá that you are going to marry off your daughter] – Sukumar Ray). The proper Bengali word for kasbá is gaiṋja (It is not native Bengali). The word Ballygunge comes from Mr. Bailey’s name and Tollygunge has come from Mr. Tolley’s name. The pronunciation is not gainj but gainj-a.

There are many Farsi words used as Bengali surnames, for example, Sarkar, Munsii, Mustafi, Dastidar, Mansavdar, Hazra, Mazumdar (the actual word is majmudár). The word cat́t́aráj, however, is not Farsi. Nawab Murshidkuli Khan gave the title Cat́t́aráj to a few individuals with the title Chattopadhyaya who were learned and faithful. Later the Nawab Alivardi gave it official acceptance. Thus the actual surname of the Cát́t́arájs is Chattopadhyaya.

Golám [slave], naokar, cákar, and cashm are among the various Farsi words used in Bengali. The word cashm means “eye”. One who fails to notice what is right in front of their eyes is cashmkhor. What one wears over the eyes is cashmá [eyeglasses]. Cashmá also means a fountain. Speaking of cashmkhor, that reminds me of something. The word khor is also Farsi. There are many Farsi words in Bengali that have khor attached such as sudkhor [usurer].

Nilám [auction], serestá [office], ustád or ostád [teacher] and kurshii [chair] are all Farsi words. Those who think we can use árám-kedárá for “easy-chair” should keep in mind that árám is a Farsi word and kedárá is an Iberian word, that is, there is no Bengali whatsoever in the mix. There is a word bhágiidár in Bengali. Bhágii is a native word and dár is a Farsi word and together they make bhágiidár [shareholder]. The current Bengali words hákim and hekim are both Farsi. The first means “district magistrate” and the second means “physician”. At one time Burdwan was the largest district in Bengal, thus the district magistrate of Burdwan was called baŕáhákim [great hákim]. Birbhum had a baŕáhákim with his headquarters at Rajnagar. In addition to these, the current Bengali words tálim [training], kalam [pen], ázád [free man], and janáb [master] are all Farsi words.

Omar is an Arabic word but it is used in Farsi. Reddish-yellow in Farsi is called jardá so a sari of this colour is called a jardá coloured sari. There is a kind of reddish-yellow leaf which is eaten with betel; it is called jardápáttii.

Jánálá [window] and darjá [door] are Portuguese words. The Portuguese word for “window” is janela. The Farsi word for “door” is darwájá. In Sanskrit “window” is gavákśa or vátáyana. Keep in mind that the correct Sanskrit word is gavakśa (go + akśa) but it has been written gavákśa since ancient times, thus gavákśa becomes correct (correct as an exception or through use by the Rśis). Nowadays if someone writes gavakśa it is thought to be incorrect. The native Hindustani word for “window” is jharoká or khiŕki. In Bengali, however, khiŕki means “back-door”. In Rarhi Bengali the word jharoká is used. There is a folksong in Hooghly District which goes like this:

Nadiir dháre ghar karilám áyná basá jharoká
Pán kheye já, mukh dekhe já, ore grámer gomastá

Ábgárii [excise], sámil [included in], sharikáná [a share], mahal [estate, house], and jádá are all Farsi words. Jádá means “son” or “boy”. Sháh jádá means “king’s son”; sháh jádii means “king’s daughter”. Ádamsumárii is an old Bengali word for counting people; it is also a Farsi word. Along with the Indian word táliká, the Farsi word tapshiil is also commonly used in Bengali to mean “list” or “schedule”. In fact for “scheduled caste” we more often use the word taphshiilii játi or taphshiilbhukta játi instead of tálikábhukta játi. The Bengali word ákkel [wisdom] comes from the Farsi word akkl. I am quite sure that no one would like to drop this ákkel from the Bengali language and thus end up be-ákkl [without ákkl – foolish]. The popular Bengali word báhár [beauty] is also Farsi. We call the calediam báhárii kacu. The croton plant we call pátábáhári. In Bengali children’s literature there is a verse:

Pákhiir áche dui pakśa, ámádero tái
Táder mata oŕár kintu shakti moder nái
Ek pakśa⁽⁶⁾ krśńa, set́á bejáy andhakár
Anya pakśa shukla, kivá jyotir báhár

[We also have two wings like the birds/however we don’t have the power to fly like them/one wing is black, it is deep darkness/the other is white, with the beauty of light]

Among the Indo-Aryan languages, we find an abundance of Farsi words used in Pashto, Kashmiri, Dogri, Panjabi, Multani and Sindhi. After them perhaps comes Bengali. There is a Panjabi song for Hola that has these lines:⁽⁷⁾

Ái vasant dii bahár
Ámbe mole t́esu mole
Mol rahii kácnár

The wonderful springtime has arrived; the mango trees are in blossom; the palásh trees are in blossom; the káiṋcan trees are in blossom.

All languages of the world borrow words from other languages and in this way the developed languages have enhanced their expressive capacity. Bengali has also collected words from various languages. It would not be right to be fussy about this; otherwise it will do harm. There is no sense in shutting one’s doors and windows in the middle of the day and then crying out that one cannot bear the darkness. The doors and windows will have to be flung open to let the outside light in. Words will have to be gathered from various languages in order to make the Bengali language more expressive.

Footnotes

(1) However the common Bengali word cácá is not actually Farsi; it is a Hindustani word. The correct pronunciation is cacá. Neither cácá or káká is native Bengali; the native Bengali word is khuŕá which has gradually gone out of use. It is a Sanskrit-derived word.

(2) Tombaco in Iberian, “tobacco” in English, from which we get the Bengali word támák [tobacco]. In rural Bengal támuk or táḿku are also common.

(3) The word d́ábá-hunko comes from the word d́ába [green coconut] in Bengali because it was made from a coconut shell.

(4) Some people, ignorant of the actual story, mistakenly think that Kárttika is the senápati [commander-in-chief] of the devas [gods] – devasenápati. This is incorrect. He is the pati [husband] of Devasená.

(5) For translation see “Proper Names – 2”. –Trans

(6) Here pakśa means “fortnight”. –Trans.

(7) The Dolyátrá festival is called Pháguyá in Bihar, Madhya Pradesh and the eastern part of Uttar Pradesh. In the remaining parts of north India it is called Holi. The day after Holi is called Hola in Panjabi.