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Ik
The Old Persian words iyak, ik, ikká came from the Vedic word eka. The substantive form of ik or iyak is ikái (unit). The word is common in Urdu. “Pertaining to eka” is ekká. For example, a one-horse vehicle or chariot is called ekká (ekká gáŕii khub chut́eche/oi dekha bhái cánd ut́heche [the one-horse cart is moving so fast/look brother, the moon has risen]).
In pure Bengali when someone was routed or defeated one used to say t́ekká deoyá. For example: kheládhúloya sabáike t́ekká diyeche oi chot́a chelet́i [that little boy has defeated everyone in sports]. Because there is a distinctive similarity between t́ekká and ekká, t́ekká is sometimes used in Bengali where ekká should be used. In card games we say t́ekká [ace] in Bengali where we ought to use ekká. In young children’s games you find ekká… dokká… tekká.
Beghore veháre caŕinu ekká.
–Dwijendralal
[I rode the one-horse cart to my heart’s content]
In olden times a one-horse cart was called ekká, and a two-horse cart was called t́omt́om. If the vehicle was covered, it was called tangaka in Sanskrit – t́ángá in Shaorasenii Prakrta. Nowadays however, the horse-drawn vehicles which we know by the name of pálki or bagi are not very old. They were first introduced in Calcutta during British rule. Men and women in high posts used to use pálkis for going here and there. The Indian palanquin or sedan-chair was in use nearly up until the end of the Mughal Era but towards the end of the Mughal Era its use rapidly declined. In my childhood days I saw the palanquin(1) or sedan-chair used in Bihar but after I became a little older I never saw it again. In those days the village people would sometimes go to the city in palanquins for medical treatment.
At any rate, when the Europeans came to India at the end of the Mughal Era they brought with them their palanquin which in Bengali was called pálki. The British introduced it in Calcutta. The bearers were mostly from Orissa. The fare was one paisa per mile.(2) They petitioned to have the fare increased to one and a half per mile. When their petition was not approved they held a strike for several days. Then the English with their inventive intellect designed the pálki gáŕii or bagi [bogey] gáŕii and provided for it to be drawn by horses. In this way we got today’s horse-drawn carriage. A single carriage is called a “bogey” in English. The pálki carriage had the convenience of the pálki and because it was horse-drawn it could go faster as well. As a result, after a short time the horse-drawn carriage became favoured by the people over the traditional palanquin. So the palanquin’s days slowly came to a close; its fares also decreased. However, it managed to survive in villages where there were no proper roads that the horse-drawn carriages could travel.
Similar to the ekká-t́omt́om carriage in India was the phaeton carriage in Europe. The gentlemen of Calcutta used to ride in these phaeton carriages and enjoy the open air in the Esplanade. The pálki carriage gradually replaced the phaeton carriage because the women of this country who normally lived in seclusion at home did not like to ride in the open phaetons. They used to ride in the pálki carriages to maintain their sanctity.
The days of the ekká also came to an end, pushed out by the pálki carriage. Only in those cases where the roads were poor or where there was a need to bring heavy loads of vegetables to the local market, did the ekká carriage survive. It still survives today in a few places where cycles and rickshaws cannot do precisely this kind of work. Moreover, cycles and rickshaws need somewhat better roads than the ekká does.
Speaking of the ekká, a story comes to mind in which the ekká plays an important role.
I had gone at the time to a village in Nawada subdivision of Gaya district in search of archaeological artifacts from Magadha. This place was more or less in the Kśuri river basin. At the southwest it bordered the historically renowned Grdhrakút́ mountain where the Buddha performed spiritual austerities and later gave his spiritual teaching.
I was somewhat late returning. Though it was night there was no harm done because the night train from Gaya would pass through Nawada station quite late. The train was running late and dawn was breaking when I arrived home in Jamalpur.
It was the full moon night in the middle of Hemanta(3) and a cool breeze was blowing; I had no trouble seeing even without a torch. I was feeling quite happy after having verified several important facts. The issue under consideration was whether or not the Buddhist Mantrayána was dominant in Magadha during the middle of the Buddhist era or the Kálacakrayána. In the Buddhist Mantrayána they recognized the goddess (which also happened later in Tantra and the Puranic religion) and she was also honored in the Buddhist Kálacakrayána, but the two were divided along doctrinal lines – one accepted Vajratárá and the other Niiltárá or Niil Saraswatii.(4) With the passage of time Niil Saraswatii took the form of Prajiṋápáramitá in Tibet and later Prajiṋápáramitá was accepted in India by the followers of Maháyána. At the outset, Prajiṋápáramitá and Niil Saraswatii were considered to be one and the same, but later they became separate goddesses. In the beginning, their Dhyánamantra was also the same, but it also became different afterwards.
In Magadha I found the whole or broken statues or remainders of destroyed statues of Niil Tárá, Ugratárá, Bhrámariitárá, and Prajiṋápáramitá. From this I arrived at the firm conclusion that they were accepted in Magadha despite the divisions that took place on or outside of Magadha soil.
I was walking in the direction of Nawada station, the station still about six miles away, when I saw a pond on the left side of the road. In Magadha there are very few ponds but during the Buddhist era ponds were often dug next to Buddhist monasteries because many mendicants and students used to stay there and a great deal of water was needed for them for which a well would not be sufficient.
When I saw the pond I stopped. I thought that perhaps there might be a garh(5) nearby. There was no garh to be seen but I did see a tall mound next to the pond. If one sat on one side of the mound then the other side was not visible but if one stood one could see all the way around it. I sat on one side of the mound and started pondering – I had never heard of the existence of a Buddhist monastery in such a place. But then whose mound was this?
Suddenly I saw an ekká coming down the same path by which I had come. It came to halt in front of me and, lo and behold!, there was no driver, no one at the reins. The horse knew the path and brought the vehicle there. Just as it pulled up, a young gentleman appeared from the other side of the mound. I asked him in Magahii: “Who are you?” He greeted me with folded hands and said with a slight smile: “Look, it seems perhaps that the ekká has come for you. Otherwise wherefrom would it come in such an unlikely moment and place? Quite astonishing, in fact!”
“It certainly is.” I replied. “You are quite correct.”
“Please, get in the ekká,” he said.
“But there is no driver,” I replied. “How will the horse go to where I want to go?”
“Don’t worry about it. I can drive the ekká.” Saying this, he helped me get in the ekká and then jumped into the driver’s seat himself and started to drive.
“Look here,” I said. “This is quite astounding. An ekká has come for me – how, I don’t know how – and you as well it seems. And another astounding thing is that you know how to drive it. It amazes me to see so many astounding things at one time.”
“I am not any the less surprised to see you here,” he said softly. “If you had gone a little further you would have come to Kaoyákol village.(6) You used to be able to find statues of Vajrabáráhii and Vajrayoginii from the Chinese Buddhist Tantra there, in other words they were recognized goddesses in Ciinácára [Chinese Tantra]. Their main place was Vikrammańipur’s (Vikrampur) Vajrayoginii village in Bengal (the village name is Badarajoinii). Statues of Vajrayoginii and Vajrabáráhii were also found in old Tripura’s Mayanámatii (subsequently British Tripura or Kumillá district) and Dattapáŕá village of Bhuluyá.”
“You are so knowledgeable,” I said. “What do you do?”
He replied very politely and gentlemanly. “I drive the ekká and I also do one or two other things. I was very happy to see that you are doing research on Magadha’s archaeological wealth. Actually, I didn’t just come here; I’ve been with you secretly all along. When you sat down on one side of the mound, I sat down on the other side.”
“I see. But how is it that you know so much about the Buddhist era?”
“I live in this land and I won’t know it? I love every particle of Magadha.”
I was very pleased to hear this from him.
Finally we arrived at Nawada station. I gave him my thank-you but when I offered him some remuneration he folded his hands and said: “I am so happy to have had the opportunity to drive you. If I accept a fee then I will not be so happy, so please, don’t give me any money.”
What could I do? I sat down in the waiting room and a short while later the train to Jamalpur arrived. The train was nearly empty and I was able to find a small compartment that was unoccupied. I fell asleep but at one point the rattling of the train woke me up and when I looked up I saw the same young man who had brought me to Nawada station in the ekká sitting in front of me.
“When did you get in?” I asked.
This time he answered in Bengali. “I also got in at Nawada, just after you did.”
“What happened to the carriage?” I asked.
“After you got down I could no longer see it, almost as if it was magic. As if you had conjured it up with your magic wand. Do you know what I am thinking now? I am thinking that this body of mine is also yours; as if you created it with a magic incantation.”
“What are you saying!” I interjected.
He smiled. Now he was speaking completely in Bengali.
“I can see that you are also very enthusiastic about archaeological research,” I said. “Now tell me, what was this mound for?”
“That mound is not a relic of the Buddhist era, rather it dates from the British era. As far as I know – but of course you are well aware of this – in the year 1905, India’s Viceroy, Lord Curzon, divided the land of Bengal, or Bengalistan, into two parts, East Bengal and Assam Province with its capital at Dhaka, and West Bengal with its capital at Calcutta. Included within East Bengal and Assam Province were:
a) North Bengal: Rajsáhii, Pávná, Baguŕá, Dinájpur, Raunpur, Jalpáiguŕi, and Northeast Raunpur (Dhuvŕi).
b) East Bengal: Mymensing, Dhaka, Faridpur, Bákhargaiṋja, British Tripura (Kumillá), Noyákháli, Cat́t́agrám, Párvatya Cat́t́agrám, Silet and Káchaŕ.
c) The mountaineous areas of eastern India: Gáro hills (Previously part of the landholdings of Mymensing’s Suśanga kings. These kings were Bárendra Brahmins from Bengal), Khási hills (Formed from many very small native kingdoms, one of which was the kingdom of Miliyem. The city of Shillong was in this kingdom), Jayantiyá hills, Mikira hills, Nágá hills (Nagaland) and the Lusái hills (Mizoram).
d) Assam: Kámarúp, Darang, Shivaságar, Nagáon, North Lakhimpur, and the Báliápáŕá border district (later NEFA, and even later, Aruńácala).
Included within Bengal were:
a) West Bengal: Burdwan, Birbhum, Bankura, Hoogli, Howrah, Midnapore, Murshidabad, Nadia, Jessore, Khulná, 24th Paragana, Calcutta, Mánbhúm, Singhbhum, Sáontál Paragańa, Málda, Darjeeling, and Purnia.
b) Bihar: Bhagalpur, Monghyr, Tirhut (Dvárbháuṋga and Muzaffarpur), Campáran (Motihari), Sárań (Cháprá), Sáhávád, Patna and Gaya.
c) Cut́iyá-Nagpur: Cut́iyá Nagpur (Ranchi), Palámu (D́ált́angaiṋja), and Hazaribag.
d) Orissa: Cuttack, Puri, Báleshwar, Aungul-Khondmahal and Sambalpur.
“The people of Bengal did not accept this partition. They started agitating strongly for the reunification of Bengal. One can say that the struggle for Indian independance began with this movement.
“One may ask why the Sepoy Mutiny was not part of the struggle for independance. Because it was not inspired with the goal of liberating the country. That struggle began out of the fear that the East India Company would destroy religion. It was supported by some dispossessed local kings and nawabs. When the Sepoy Mutiny first started in Barrackpore and Berhampore, the thought of liberating the country was not in the smallest corner of their minds.
“When the movement began against the partition of Bengal, the desire to liberate the country had not yet arisen in their minds either. Their primary objective was to make the two Bengals one again. But after the agitation to unite Bengal had been going on for some time, the desire to liberate the country from the grip of foreign enemies arose in their minds. Thus we can say that this time saw the sprouting of the seed of desire for independence. The rulers of East Bengal and Assam Province at the time completely lost their senses, like a mad dog, in the effort to suppress the movement. As a result, ‘terrorism as an effect of helplessness complex’ arose among the oppressed and persecuted Bengali population. Such tyranny was not seen in [west] Bengal, so terrorism also did not flourish there.
“How does it strike us today to think that in those days it was forbidden to publicly utter the words vande mátaram.(7) For the offence of saying vande mátaram in public the youth of Bengal had their skulls cracked open in Barishal by the police, and those who did not die filled up the jails.
“When people are not given an opportunity for civilized and orderly agitation, they take to the path of terrorism… they accept the path of guerilla warfare. This was the case in this situation. Two youths of that time, Manotośa Vasu from Málakha nagar in Dhaka district, and Shubhendu Náráyáńa Guha from Vánáriipáŕá in Bakharganja district, plunged bravely into terrorism under the inspiration of the intinerant troubadour, Mukunda Das. The police chief of East Bengal and Assam Province, Mr. Tegartt, scoured the region in a furious effort to capture them. Thereafter they quit East Bengal and Assam and came to Bengal where they continued to conduct their terrorist activities from Nawada in Gaya district. Along with their terrorist work, Shubhendra Narayana ran a betel shop in Nawada and Manotośa Vasu used to drive an ekká.
“The two friends used to meet each other in their spare time. As their terrorist activities in Gaya district grew, a lot of eavesdropping started going on. Informants were recruited in different neighbourhoods to help catch the terrorists. After a long search they were able to track the two of them down. There was a great battle between the police and these friends near the mound where you were seated, next to the pond. Both of them were killed. A grave was dug and Manotośa was buried on the spot. A mound was built up over it so that the site could be identified.
“Many local villagers arrived before a grave could be dug for Shubhendra Narayana so the body was sent to Calcutta Medical College to be used there. That is why I told you that the mound dates from the British era, not the Buddhist era.”
“What excellent research you’ve done!” I said. “You’ve done better than any famous archaeologist could have done. I’m really amazed to see what excellent research work you’ve done at such a young age.”
“I have lived on Magadha soil for a long time,” he replied, “so I have a responsibility to know these things. You know, I love everything about Magadha.”
“That I can see,” I said. “When you were driving the t́omt́om you were speaking fluent Magahii.”
He laughed softly. “Those same Bengalees who had once fought with all their might to unify Bengal presented a petition to the British in 1947 to once again divide Bengal in two. When the two Bengals were united in 1912(8) the Bengalees thought that they had won the fight. And when Bengal was again divided in two in 1947, again the Bengalees thought they had won the fight. What a tragedy of history!
“When the two Bengals became one in 1912, many parts of Bengalistan were kept outside it. History tells why. Nowadays I have realized that liberty not only means escaping the clutches of an external enemy; liberty means gaining one’s freedom from all kinds of bondages – economic, dialetical, intellectual, educational, linguistic and cultural. Geo-sentiment and racial sentiment alone are not all there is to freedom. External forces ruled this country because they were able to extract its essence, its vital juices. When they saw that they had to expend a lot of money to maintain the sugar cane production, when they saw that it was no longer profitable after having sucked the industry dry, then they left. They did not go due to any other pressure; economic difficulties forced them to leave. It is important to remember, both then and now, that it cannot be called freedom when black exploiters take the place of white exploiters. Even though the foreign powers have left, their exploitative machinery is still in place. That machinery will have to go. Then the threefold freedom will be possible – physical, mental and spiritual.
“Now go to sleep and don’t worry,” he continued. “I’ll return after I see that you’ve reached Jamalpur.”
“Why should you go to so much trouble on my behalf?” I said.
“I love you very much,” he replied, “and I’m concerned about you. Do you know what I am thinking?”
“Tell me,” I insisted.
He smiled and said: “I feel as if I am inside your mind.”
I laughed and he went on. “I won’t keep you awake any longer by going on talking. You go to sleep. I’ll be sitting here.
“I am always anxious to be able to do some good for other people but I don’t have the means to do so.”
I covered my face with my shawl and then said: “How so? You are so young. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to do good work.”
He replied with a choked voice. “I am that Manotośa Vasu. You were sitting beside my grave.”
I pulled the shawl away from my face to look at him but there was no one there.
Iuṋgita
By adding the suffix kta to the verbal root iuṋg (inj/igi) we get the word iuṋgita. The meaning of the root iuṋg is “to make something understood through the medium of gestures without using language”, thus iuṋgita means “to make something understood through gestures and postures” [hábebhábe bojháno]. Often we say ábháśe iuṋgite. Ábháśa and iuṋgita, however, are not identical. Ábháśa [hint] means “to say something in abbreviated language or twilight language or aphoristic language” and iuṋgita means “to make something understood without language”. Hábebhábe bojháno and iuṋgita are also not identical. Hábebhábe bojháno means “to make something understood without speaking”, through mannerisms or any other means, but iuṋgita is not exactly that.
A moment ago I used the word “twilight language”. Twilight language means to use a language to express what I want to say which will have two meanings. A person who does not know the sign or the clue which indicates the real meaning will take it to mean one thing and the person who knows it will take it to mean another, that is, the real meaning. Suppose I write in twilight language baŕá bábu áj mar gayá, baŕii bahko pat́há dená. Someone who does not understood its actual significance will take it to mean: “The elder brother has died today, send for the elder sister-in-law” (that is, send the elder sister-in-law to do the obsequial rites). But those who understand the hint will take the correct meaning. “The elder brother (senior business partner) has gone to Ajmer, send the ledger (the elder sister-in-law) with the real balance sheet.” Anyhow, now you have understood the subtle differences between the words, iuṋgita, ábháśa, and hábbháv. Saḿketa simply means “signal”.
Icá
In Old Bengali the word icá means “developing without care”. Those insects or worms which are born, according to the law of nature, in putrid or stagnant water are called icá or icá poká. These icá poká were the food of some people. There is no relation between these icás and fish. They do not belong to the fish group. But greedy-tongued people, those who on the one hand had a strong desire to eat them but who, at the same time, were ashamed to, called them icá mách [icá fish] or ciḿŕi mách (lobster) in order to maintain some balance between their greed and their shame.
There is no relation between fish and ciḿŕi. Ciḿŕi are ciḿŕi. Those ucciḿŕe (uŕ + ciḿŕe = ucciḿŕe) that we see flying in the evening during rainy season are born on the ground and survive on decaying earth and stagnant water. In the opinion of some biologists, ucciḿŕe and icá were the same species in very ancient times. In parts of western Ráŕh and eastern Bengal, ciḿŕi mách is still called icá mách. In Ráŕh one will also find villages by the name of Icágaŕ, Icád́i, etc.
While there are 15 kinds of old Bengali ciḿŕi, chiefly they are of six varieties:
1) galdá ciḿŕi – they favour stagnant, fetid water, 2) bágdá ciḿŕi – their favoured places are running, fetid water and fetid river water, and also slightly salty estuaries (east 24th Paragańá and east Khulaná),
3) mocá ciḿŕi – they live in the Ganges and in fresh-water rivers. They also reproduce in blocked-off pools of fresh-water rivers,
4) kuco ciḿŕi – they normally reproduce in fresh water, 5) kádá ciḿŕi – they normally reproduce in the water that washes down mountains in the rainy season, and
6) red ciḿŕi – their favourite place is the sea near rivermouths. If this ciḿŕi is eaten too much then one will get skin disease.
However many varieties of ciḿri there are, the word icá refers to all of them, although nowadays some people use icá in a limited sense to mean only small ciḿŕi.
Icchá By adding the noun suffix sha plus the feminine suffix áp to the verbal root iś we get the word icchá. The verbal root iś means “to desire, to long for”. Icchá means “desire” or “wish”. The fundamental difference between icchá and eśańá is that icchá is limited to one’s internal world but when that icchá is associated with the effort to give it a practical shape or an actional expression then it is called eśańá. Thus hitecchá (hita + icchá) and hitaeśańá (hita + eśańá) are not identical. Keep in mind that the word hubahu [identical] is neither pure Sanskrit, nor derived from Sanskrit nor native Bengali. It comes from an old Persian word.
Ichá The word ichá comes from spelling the word iśa with cha. Many mistakenly believe it to be a shortened form of icchá. Jesus Christ was referred to as iśa in old Arabic. Iśa and Musa [Moses] were both accepted as prophets.
There are two rivers in Bengal with the name ichámatii – one is in the Pabná district of Bangladesh and the other is in Central Bengal. The river in Central Bengal issues forth from the Padma and passes through Murshidabad, Nadia, Kuśt́hiyá, Jessore, and 24th Paragańá before emptying into the ocean. A tributary breaks off from the middle part of this ichámatii on its right-hand side and joins the Bhágirathi near Shantipur. This tributary is known by the name of the Churni. It is said that the Dewan of Nadia, Raghunandan Mitra, made this river (or rather canal) in one night by pilfering the waters of the ichámatii with the help of a huge number of diggers. Since the canal (in subsequent times called a river) was fashioned with stolen waters it was given the name Churiye Neoyá [Pilfered] – shortened to Churni. Up until the time that the Churni came out of the Ichámatii, that is, as long as the Ichámatii came from the Padma but before the Churni was made, the river is known as the Máthábhauṋgá. Thereafter the right-hand river is known by the name of the Churni and the left-hand, original river, by the name of the Ichámatii. When this river approaches the Sundarban forest, a certain portion of it is known as the Kálindii(9) and Harinábhángá (some people mistakenly say Harinád́angá). Some people call it Icchámatii instead of Ichámatii in order to give it a more refined or correct form; no, the river’s name is not Icchámatii; it is Ichámatii.
Ijya Yaj + kyap = ijya. The verbal root yaj means “to do great work”, “to accept sacrifice”, “to teach truth”, “to work on another’s behalf”. Thus ijya means “teacher”. Brhaspati, the teacher of the gods, accepted many sacrifices for the welfare of his pupils so he was referred to as ijya. The Asuras [demons] cannot forget the contributions of their guru, Shukrácárya, on their behalf. Thus, in the language of the demons, ijya means Shukrácárya. In the Vedic era, the offerings given or due the priests used to be spent for the people’s welfare. Such priests were called ijya to show them respect, and the rest used to be considered traders in religion. Ijya also refers to those cows which give greater quantities of milk.
Itara I means “one who has a desire to obtain”. By adding the suffix ghaiṋ to the root trae or trr we get the word tara. Itara means “one who preserves the hope of getting a little”. This is its etymological meaning. Its colloquial meaning is “general public or mass”. Its synonyms in Sanskrit are prákrta jana or sádhárańa mánuśa.
In the Bengali language the meaning of the word itara has become distorted. In a broad sense, if we say itara we mean a man or animal of inferior standard. Thus, to a certain extent, we use itara as a derogatory expression. Itar lok [vile person], itara práńii, itara páshu [lower animals], itarámi [meanness]. Here the word itara is taken in a mistaken sense and the common people are shown disrespect, which is not at all desirable. Krśńa has said: Yadyadácarati shreśt́hastattadevetaro janah. The general public or itara jana follow and copy the behaviour of those in positions of leadership. Here the word itara jana has not been used with contempt at all.
Kanyá barayati rúpaḿ mátá vittaḿ pitá guńam
Bándhaváh hitamicchanti miśt́ánnamitare janáh
The meaning of the Shloka is: Before a wedding the bride-to-be wishes the groom to be handsome, the mother of the bride wishes the groom to be rich, the father of the bride wants the groom to be virtuous, the friends and relations wish that whatever happens will be for the good, and the public hopes that there will be all the sweets they can eat.
Here also itara jana does not convey the sense of inferior or lower standard people. We should be careful how we use the word itara.
Iti By adding ktin to i (verbal root yá) we get the word iti whose etymological meaning is “that which is moving”, or “that which has been”, or “that which has been in such a way”. Its colloquial meaning is “whatever more I may say or write, it goes on in such a way”. Iiti means “a great kind of danger”. Many think that iti, perhaps, means “end”. No, it does not. At the end of a letter we write iti. Here it also means – as I wrote, so it goes, what more can I write?
Many people become confused by taking iti to mean “end”. A certain person had many daughters. He gave his seventh daughter the name Ánnákálii (Ár ná Kálii = Ánnákálii – O Kálii, it is too many, no more!). The eighth daughter he named Chái-ná Kálii [I do not want, Kálii]. He gave the ninth daughter the name iti thinking that iti meant “end”. But actually iti means “let it continue as it has gone”. One day a gentleman told him the real meaning of iti – let it continue as it has been. “Just as you have had one daughter after another born to you, so will it continue.” Dazed and confused, he ran home straightaway to change his daughter’s name.
Did you get the joke?
Aveti means a temporary or partial punctuation mark, not a permanent cessation. This aveti carries a special significance, not only in the written language, but in the spoken language as well. Aveti should be part of any proper collection of words.
“He is devouring a bad kind of good yoghurt” or “He is lamenting his mother in perfect calm”. These sentences are against the spirit of aveti. Using punctuation marks haphazardly in a letter is also against the spirit of aveti. You might remember the following story: A gentleman was staying in the city when a letter arrived from his village home. “Today respected mother-in-law vomited twice. From the Brahmin priest’s mouth you will hear everything. The farmers have cut down all the date palms. Our cows are well.” Due to confused aveti, it was written: “Today respected mother-in-law vomited twice from the Brahmin priest’s mouth. You will hear everything the farmers have cut down. All the date palms, our cows, are well.”
Itikathá
Iti means “to continue just as it has been”. Kathá means story. To arrange events by means of narrative is itikathá or “history”. Behind the word “history” lies the original French word, estoire. Because the beginning of the word is pronounced as a vowel, one used to say “an historian” rather than “a historian”. Nowadays, in English, both are current.
Itihása
Hása means “smile” or “laugh” and hása means “to shine”. Itihása means “These shining words that I have spoken will continue on”. That portion of history which is particularly shining, that is, that portion of history which has educative value for the people is itihása. There is no proper English synonym for itihása.
Dharmárthakámamokśárthaḿ niitivákyasamanvitam
Purávrttakatháyuktamitihásah pracakśyate
That portion of history in which there is morality and in which the four vargas, dharma, artha, káma, and mokśa, attain fruition is called itihása.
In
In is a suffix. Normally, the suffix in changes a noun into an adjective or a verb into an adjective or an adverb. For example, guń + in = guńin (1st person singular – guńii); karma + in = karmiń (karmii); viraha + in = virahiń (virahii). Similarly, jiṋánin (jiṋánii), tapsvin (tapasvii), vidyárthin (vidyárthii), árohiń (árohii). In compound words where in is attached to the end of the first word, the na is dropped and the form of the compound word is determined according to the form of the first word. For example, guńin + gańa = guńigańa, karmiń + brnda = karmibrnda, virahiń + gopala = virahiigopala, jiṋánin + samúha = jiṋánisamúha, tapasvin + nivása = tapasvinivása, árohiń + gańa = árohigańa. The feminine form of words ending in in is inii. (in + ip = inii). Ekákin (first person singular ekákii – masculine gender) – in feminine gender ekákinii, karmiń (karmii) – in feminine gender karmińii, tapasvin (tapasvii) – in feminine gender tapasvinii.
Inda
Ind (idi) + ac = inda. The verbal root ind means “to collect in abundance”, or “to be established in abundance”.
Indi/Indii
Indi/indii means “adorned with the abundance of beauty”. Colloquially it means “beautiful flower”. Indivara/indiivara means “blue lotus”. Some people believe that the feminine form of indra is indirá but this is incorrect. The feminine form of indra is aendrilá or indránii. In laokik Sanskrit some people use the word indirá to mean lakśmii. They think that inda or indi means “the splendour of abundance” and ra means “that which gives”. That is, that goddess which gives in abundance. But there is a fundamental error here. In Vedic or laokik Sanskrit, rá is used to mean “manifestation”, “vocality”, “receive” or “obtain”. It is not used in the sense of “giving”. When thus analysed, indirá means “one who gets or receives abundance”. The Puranic goddess Lakśmii gives abundance, so to use the word indirá for her is completely unjustified.
Indu
Ind + uń =indu. “The one in whom there is nectar or the abundance of beauty” – this is the etymological meaning of indu. Its colloquial meaning is the moon. According to the yogic scriptures, among the sixteen kalás [sixteen divisions of the lunar cycle] the fourteenth is seen on the fourteenth lunar day and the fifteenth is seen during the full moon but since the moon remains in a certain position the sixteenth kalá is not visible. It remains in darkness. This sixteenth kalá is the receptacle of ambrosia. Because it remains covered in darkness, its name is amákalá and because it is the recptacle of nectar, its other name is indu.
In the individual this indu resides in the sahasrara cakra of the human body. By dint of sadhana, the yogis drink this indu-mixed nectar. (Surá pán karine ámi, sudhá khái jay kálii bale – Ramaprasád. [I do not drink wine; I drink nectar by singing the praises of the Divine Mother.]) Shiva was the King of the Yogis so the yogis used to think that this amákalá was permanently bound up in his matted locks. Thus one of the names they gave him was indushekhara. But in laokika Sanskrit and in the people’s languages the word indu is also used to refer to the entire moon. If indu was only used for the sixteenth kalá where would the complete moon (indumatii) be able to go?
Jat́ájut́asamáyuktá arddhendukrtashekhará;
navayaovanasampanná púrńendusadrshánaná.
If, in a mantra, it is said about the face of a goddess púrńendusadrshánaná [having a face resembling the full moon], and here indu is taken to mean the sixteenth kalá of the moon, then it will mean that her countenance is disfigured. And precisely for this reason where will the krśnendus, púrnendus (the kalá, not the entire moon), shubhendus go? If yet another error is indulged, saying that indu means the entire moon, in order to shore up this prevalent error, will this be proper? In this case, in order to mend the situation and to rectify another mistake, I can say emphatically that indu means the sixteenth kalá of the moon. Still, in some people’s opinion, indu refers to the entire moon.
Indura
The root ind means “to accumulate in abundance”. Ind + uras = indura. Its etymological meaning is “one whose natural activity is accumulating abundance”; colloquially it means “mouse”. Its synonyms are ákhu, múśá, múśa, cuhá, cuhiyá, cut́ariyá. Some people believe Ganesh to be the god of accumulation and as the representative form of accumulation they believe that his mount is a mouse.
Footnotes
(1) In Old Bengal, the people who used to carry the palanquin were called duliyá or dule. In the Bengali army there were large numbers of bagdiis [a Hindu caste] During battle the duliyá or dule bágdiis used to help them by carrying their palanquins.
(2) In those days the half-paisa coin was quite common in the market and was worth something as well. Officially the pie-paisa was in use but practically it was the half-paisa or adhlá. In my childhood days in Bihar one could get four kacuri [a kind of pancake made from pulse] and vegetables for one adhlá.
(3) The Bengali year has six seasons. Hemanta corresponds to the end of autumn and beginning of winter. –Trans.
(4) In many people’s opinion this Niil Saraswatii was later transformed into the white-coloured Puranic goddess Saraswatii. Up until the time of British rule what people meant by the worship of Saraswatii was the worship of books. After the first statue of Saraswatii was made during British rule the Saraswatii puja was introduced. The Saraswatii of the Vedic and post-Vedic eras and the Saraswatii which is worshipped today are not the same. The Dhyanamantra of the modern Saraswatii, Ya kundendu tuśárahára dhavalá, [who is as white as the kunda flower and as glittering as a string of icicles] is not an ancient mantra.
(5) In Magadha the common people call the ruins of an ancient Buddhist monastery a garh [fort].
(6) Kaoyákol is now a small town.
(7) The first two words of a song by Bakim Chandra eulogizing the motherland – “we salute thee, O mother”.
(8) When the two Bengals were reunited in 1912, the East Bengal and Assam Province’s Secretariat at Dhaka, its capital, was divided; the newly-created Province of Assam had its capital removed to Shillong and the newly-created Province of Bihar-Chotanágpur-Orissa had its capital removed to Patna. The word Chotanagpur was dropped from the name of the Province later on.
(9) The Kálindii river means “black river”, or that river whose waters are black.