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Kup
Last Sunday I said something about the root verb kup, did I not? Different verbal forms of the root verb kup are used with different meanings. For instance, if ti is added, forming the present tense kupyati, it means “to get angry”. On rare occasions kupyate can also be seen in Sanskrit literature; in other words, the verbal root is used in both types of conjugation. If one says kopayati, it means “that which glitters”. Then its form becomes similar to the root verb bhakś in causative form – kopayayati in causative form. If the verbal root kup changes to kumpati or kumpayati, kumpayayati in the causative, then it means “to spray”, “to sprinkle”, “to remember”, “to retain in ones memory”, etc.
People attempt to pass off cheap items by copying valuable items, that is, they want to sell cheap goods as expensive goods in the community or in the market. Greedy people want to pass off inferior metals as gold or silver. That is why all relatively cheap metals, excluding gold and silver, are called kupya (kup + kyap). They want to substitute gold tinsel for gold and silver tinsel for silver. So we can call gold tinsel svarńakupya and silver tinsel rajatakupya. In olden times those who practiced idol worship used to make clay or stone ornaments at the time they were making their icons. That is why you find ear ornaments, nose ornaments, head ornaments, hand ornaments, waist ornaments and foot ornaments alongside the icons found from olden times. You will find similar ornaments on many clay images of today. There is a story about a sahib named Dock. He told the artisans of this country in his mispronounced Bengali: “Why are you decorating with clay ornaments? Why dont you decorate with gold or silver tinsel instead? That will make them all the more beautiful.” From that time onwards many artisans began decorating the images with gold and silver tinsel and other such cheap things. Such types of ornamentation were named d́ák decorations or the d́ák ornaments after Mr. Dock.
Jagatke sájácchen ye má
Diye kato ratna náná,
Tumi sájáte cáyo sei máyere
Diye chár dáker gahaná.
[The Mother who is decorating the earth with so many gems and jewels, you want to decorate her with these rubbish d́ák ornaments!]
Kurat́
Ku + rat́ = kurat́. The meaning of the root verb rat́ is “to spread certain words around” or “to circulate”. Rat́antii means “that womans words which are circulated all around” (in a eulogistic or a pejorative sense) or “that woman who circulates words all around” (in a eulogistic or pejorative sense). The etymological meaning of kurat́a is “one whose words are not proper”, “one whose words are uncultured”. The colloquial meaning of kurat́a is “one who sells tanned (cured) leather” or “one who manufactures consumer goods from tanned or cured leather” or “one who gets such things made and sells them”. Most of you must be aware that, as long as the leather is on the body of the animals it is called gátracarma, in English “skin”. When the skin is removed from the body of a dead animal (khál khicná in Urdu, in English “flaying”), then that separated skin is called “raw leather” or “hide”. When this leather is processed or tanned, then it is called cured cámŕa in Bengali, in English “leather”. In olden days these jobs were performed by the people who belonged to the cobbler class. Those who manufactured or got consumer leather goods manufactured and sold them were known as kurat́a.
Kurava
Ku + rava = kurava. The etymological meaning of kurava is “cacophonous or harsh sound.” The colloquial meanings of kurava are:
Kuravaka
Ku + rava + kan. Kuravaka means “raven” because the sound of the raven is very harsh. The heron [vaka] flower is somewhat curved. The herons beak is also somewhat crooked, that is, the heron accomplishes its aims by bending its beak somewhat. That is why we derive the word vaka by adding the suffix ac to vak. That flower which is curved or bent is called kuravaka. However, kuravaka does not refer to all vaka flowers, only to the flower that is deep red in colour.
Kurála
Kura + alac (kalac) = kurála. Etymologically kurála means “a speical kind of fast animal”. Colloquially kurála refers to a rare kind of horse (aśva: ash+van) which used to inhabit central Asia and northwest India in olden times. These rare horses were very expensive. They were tall and golden-coloured with dark black legs. These kurála horses are not found in todays world. Nowadays they are as extinct as the dodo.
The kurála horse was a high-bred species. The sheen of their coat was dazzling. So the aristocratic ladies of those days used to make petticoats of the same colour. Those petticoats were very long; they used to reach to the soles of their feet. The upper part was golden and the lower part, that is, the border, was jet black. After that, in the language of those days, kurála used to mean “petticoat”.
Kurpara
Kur + kvip + para = kurpara. The etymological meaning is “that which helps a person to walk” or “that which must be swung frequently”. The colloquial meanings of kurpara are:
In the same sense kurpara also means a short sleeve vest or t-shirt. In order to make a distinction between a phatuyá [loose cotton waistcoat] and underwear, a phatuyá was also called úrdhva kurpara. You can also use the word úrdhva-kurpara if necessary. However, if there is no possibility of confusing phatuyá and underwear, it is fine to simply use kurpara instead of the compound word úrdhva-kurpara.
Kurpás
Kur + pás. Kurpás means “womans blouse”. The Sanskrit word for “bra”, that is, káṋculi in old Bengali, is kurpásaka.
Kurbása
Kur + bása. The etymological meaning is “the garment which makes noise”. The colloquial meanings of kurbása are “jacket”, “sweater”, “pullover”, etc. For the sake of distinction, a jacket or a sleeveless sweater or vest or t-shirt was called kurbása, and a short sleeve sweater or vest or t-shirt was called kurpara or úrdhvakurpara, while a long sleeve sweater or pullover was called kurbásika.
Kuru
Kr + imperative hi = kuru. The etymological meaning is “that which gives directions for work” (present continuous tense). Colloquially kuru refers to:
The inner meaning of the word kurukśetra is “that kśetra or land which always says kuru-kuru-kuru [do, do, do]”; in other words, that supplies inspiration for action. The colloquial meaning of the word kurukśetra is “this battlefield of a world where you cannot rest even for a moment”. You have to work all the time. Whoever does not want to work becomes an outcaste. They lose sight of the purpose of life and are banished beyond the curtain of oblivion.
Kuruvilva
Kuru + vil + van = kuruvilva. The meaning of the root verb vil is “to make a hole”. The etymological meaning of kuruvilva is “that which is pierced”, or “that which can be pierced”, or “metal used after making a hole in it”. Colloquially kuruvilva refers to any of the nine gems, but more specifically the ruby.
Kurumba
Kur + umbac = kurumba. The etymological meaning of kurumba is “that which emits sound when used”. Colloquially kurumba refers to a large type of orange. Another proper name for the orange known as Sylheti orange in the market is kurumba. Similarly, kut́umba [kinsman] is derived by adding the suffix umbac to the verbal root kut́, and hud́umba [puffed rice] by adding it to the verbal root hud́.
Kuruvaka
Kuru + vak + ac = kuruvaka. The meaning of the root vak is “to bend” or “to bend something”. The etymological meaning of the word kuruvaka is “one who is bent” or “one who is on the way to becoming bent”. Colloquially kuruvaka refers to:
Kuruvinda
Kuru + vind + sha. The meaning of the root verb vind is “to get something”, or “to benefit” or “to manifest”. So the etymological meaning of the word kuruvinda is “that which is manifest through action”. For instance, the meaning of the word arabinda or aravinda is “that which is manifest through spokes [ara]”, that is, the wheel. The other meaning of ara is “petal”. So another meaning of the word arabinda is “that which is manifest through petals”, that is, the lotus. Carańáravinda means “lotus-foot”. Go means “organ”. So govinda means jiivátmá [unit consciousness] or Pratyagátmá [supreme consciousness], that is, the one due to whose presence the organs are manifest. Despite a dead body having eyes, ears, and nose, these organs cannot function because there is no consciousness or átman. The meaning of the expression rádhágovinda is “one who worships” and “one who is worshipped”, both the unit being [jiivbháva] and the Supreme Being [shivbháva] who resides near the unit-being. The meaning of the word rádhá is “one who worships” and the meaning of govinda is pratyagátma, that is, “that which is worshipped”. The colloquial meanings of kuruvinda are:
The root verb vind used to be written in old Sanskrit with both the consonantal ba and antahastha va. However, at present antahastha va is used. So the word arabinda must be spelled aravinda in English or Roman Sanskrit.
Kurúpa
Ku + rúpa. The etymological meaning of kurúpa is “bad-looking”, “ugly”.
Kurúpya
Ku + rúp + kyap = kurúpya. The etymological meaning of kurúpya is “inferior quality silver”. The colloquial meaning of kurúpya is “tin”, bauṋga in Sanskrit.
When something spurious is passed off as the genuine article it is also called kurúpya. In this connection I will tell you a story.
I was sitting down flipping through the pages of a newspaper and found myself reading the same news over again. I held out some faint hope that I might come across any new piece of news. But where could any new news come from, I thought? How could any important piece of news surface, when even a small particle could not avoid the censors scissors?
Then I ran into our local Sergeant-Major. He was working in the military. It was the year 1942. All employees had had their leave cancelled due to the emergency situation and had been ordered to return to the army. So he also was returning.
The trumpets of the Second World War were sounding then in different corners of the globe. That sound of the kettle drum could also be heard in different parts of India if one paid attention. Part of India had become a battlefield at that time with the Indian National Army crossing the border into India. We used to listen with bated breath to the Indian National Army Radio news broadcasts behind closed doors and windows. The mechanism they had in place for collecting and broadcasting the news was quite efficient. Though we had not yet received any local news of a skirmish that had taken place between the army and the public only an hour earlier a scant twenty miles from the city, we found out about it from the Indian National Army Radio broadcast from Germany. I made enquiries and came to know that the news was entirely correct. The Indian National Army had conquered the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and had, I believe, given them the names Svarája Dviipa [Freedom Island] and Shahiid Dviipa [Martyrs Island]. The army had also entered Manipur and hoisted the tricolour flag. The Indian National Army submarines could also be seen off the Indian coast. The situation was grave. India had openly turned into the Kurukśetra of the twentieth century.
A certain judge made our colleagues swear allegiance anew in Bengali to British India. The Indian soldiers could no longer be trusted that much, as if it were a portent of the Sepoy Mutiny in a larger context, a newer terror in public life.
The suffering of the people reached its zenith point. Food, clothes and consumer goods were not only costly but hard to come by. Millions of poor people were dying of starvation, their knees buckling as they fell headlong to the ground. No one had time to shed salty tears over them when seeing their suffering. Such incidents were so frequent; people saw so much of this, that their tears dried up.
The transport system had completely broken down. Cycles and boats had been confiscated in rural Bengal. Buses were running on kerosene. Even that was scarce. People were somehow making their way here and there, crowding on the tops of buses. Regular train service was curtailed, and instead the number of military trains was increased. Soldiers were also crowding into the regular trains. Occasionally for urgent work, people were undergoing great hardship by holding on to the handles of the wagons and hanging like bats in order to travel to their required destination. The suffering was extreme. Such suffering had not been seen even in the battle of Kurukśetra, nor during the battle of Lanka, the Trojan war, nor even the First World War. Everyone is compelled to admit that Gandhijii brought a new consciousness to the public mind, whether one supported his role in Indias freedom struggle or not. Even those in whom this consciousness had not awakened under the influence of Gandhijii were looking for some kind of change to find relief from that unbearable situation. Many people were saying that they wanted change whether it was for the better or for the worse.
On the one hand, all consumer items were hard to come by; the peoples purchasing power had become exhausted. On the other hand, promissory notes valued at millions of rupees were being circulated in the market to help cope with the situation. The small group of people in whose hands a large part of these notes fell became the nouveau riche, their bellies swollen with affluence. On the one hand there were scenes of extreme poverty and scarcity, and on the other the abundance of wealth. As a result, the lives of millions of people were reduced to the level of slaves. The dignity of women was trampled in the dirt due to the economic might of greedy people. Poverty was destroying middle-class families. I was sitting and flipping through the pages of the newspaper during this unbearable situation.
The Sergeant-Major came and stood beside me. I looked at his face and saw wrinkles of worry etched on his forehead.
“Whats happening?” I asked. “Why do you look so pale?”
He hesitated to answer.
“Nobody is free from worries,” I told him. “You, me, we all are affected. There is a new public awareness, yet a large number of unwilling people in this vast country are being driven to war to further the interests of the imperialists. There is a new consciousness in the public mind, popular unrest has gathered momentum, and an explosion is inevitable. Even if the Allies win this war, they can no longer deny India her freedom. If they try to keep her subjugated, they will only be throwing out the baby with the bathwater. To govern the country by driving a steamroller over the bodies of discontented people needs such an investment in manpower and wealth that the remedy will be worse than the disease. The price wont be worth it. So whether the Allies win or lose the war, imperialism has to quit India. Rather it would be fruitful for them if India was granted her freedom and some secret understanding reached with a few top leaders. In that case India would be reduced to a satellite of the affluent countries. It would supply the raw materials and then buy the finished goods from the factories of those countries. So, willingly or unwillingly, the imperialists have to leave India, and they will try for a peaceful transfer of power.”
Ataeva eso, amrá sandhi kari
Pratyupokáre virodhi svártha sádhi,
Tumi niye calo ámáre lokottare
Tomáre bandhu ámi lokáyate báṋdhi.
[So come, let us have an agreement. Let us mutually further our opposing interests. You lead me to the transcendental sphere, and I will bind you, my friend, to the mundane sphere.]
“There is much to be gained from this furtherance of mutual interests. In this manner, neither Gandhijiis non-violence movement nor the terrorist movement will win. It will point to the victory of the public mind inspired and overwhelmed by a new consciousness.”
“I do not understand all this,” the Sergeant-Major said.
“Mr. Sergeant-Major, why would you not understand this? These are the lessons of history [itihás]. Do you not turn the pages of history?”
“I dont understand this history-bistory business,” the Sergeant-Major replied. “There are only two kinds of háṋs among my poultry, the rájaháṋs [swan] and the pátiháṋs [duck].”
“You neednt study history,” I told him. “Just open your eyes to whatever floats in front of you.”
“Nowadays I often find Shyamal Shasmal of Tamluk by your side,” he asked. “Why is it I dont see him today?”
“Youll never see him again. Yesterday he heard the unexpected news through the Indian National Army Radio that a peoples government had been formed in Tamluk. When he heard the news he felt restless for a good while. Then he told me, ́I also cannot remain idle any longer. If I die, please send information to my village home and my dear elder brother.”
“I stared at him intently. No, this man does not want to be a minister. He does not want to be a historical figure with his name inscribed on a metal casket. He is pure gold. I couldnt even imagine how I would feel sending the news to his village home.”
“This morning I received the news that he was shot dead by the military while uprooting railway tracks late last night. So you see, Mr. Sergeant-Major, you will never see him again with me. You know, I suppose that after India attains independence the historical accounts of those who have made great contributions (or even negative contributions) to the cause of freedom will be put into metal caskets and buried, in the same way that Emperor Ashoka left his historical accounts on different pillars and inscriptions. There will certainly be nothing of the kind for our Shyamal Shasmal. How many such Shyamal Shasmals have come and gone? Can we afford to think about them? Perhaps only the names of those leaders who were prisoners (not convicts) of the highest class will be written in the caskets of history, while the Shyamal Shasmals will sink into darkness.”
“I came to you for some work,” the Sergeant-Major told me.
“What work would that be, pray tell?”
“Please have a look at the back of my shirt.”
“Yes, I see it. I dont see anything unusual.”
“Innocent people have been fired on in many of the surrounding villages and many have died. In protest, the government servants of this area have refused to attend work. But I have dedicated my body, mind and soul to the service of imperialism. How can I stay away from my duties? So I set out from home. The local people started hurling abuse and harsh words at me. I didnt let it upset me, nor did I forget even for a moment that my life was dedicated to the service of imperialist power. It wont do for me to stop. I have to join my duty.”
“That much I understand,” I told him. “I can see that with my own eyes. But what happened to your back as a result?”
“The young as well as the old people of the area all started spitting at me. I could feel that much of my back became drenched with spit. So I came to show you. Please check and let me know how much of my back is wet.”
“Your shirt is not yet wet,” I told him. “It may become a little wet if you dive in an ocean of spit for the next seven hundred more lives. Come back to me then.”
“You told me that the name of Shyamal Shasmal wont be remembered by history, nor will it be on the metal casket. So you will record his name in your story. But what is going to happen to me?”
“You will also be one of the protagonists of my story. Your name must be there in the story.”
The Sergeant-Majors face brightened up.
“From today onwards you are a person of historic importance,” I told him. “I used to know you only as the Sergeant-Major. I cannot understand into what depths your real name has sunk. Would you tell me your real name, just once? Only then can I make a place for you in my story.”
“My name is Akalmand Singh,” the Sergeant replied.
Kula
By adding the suffix ka to kul we get the word kula. The meaning of the root verb kul is “to save money,” “to collect,” “to bring together.” That is why we call “sum total” sákulya and “grand total” sarvasákulya.
We can also derive the word kula by adding the suffixes la and d́a to ku. Kula means “manifestation of solid factor.” So the word kula means “physical expression.” The colloquial meaning of kula is:
Aśt́akulácalah saptasamudrah
Brahma-Purandara-Dinakarah-Rudráh.
Na tvaḿ náhaḿ ná ayaḿ lokah
Vyárthah kimarthaḿ kriyate shokah.
[The eight great mountains and the seven oceans; Brahma, Purandara, the sun and the Rudras; neither I, nor you, nor this world is real; why grieve in vain?]