Kut́t́ii

Kut́t́ + ii = Kut́t́ii. Kut́t́ii means “that which cuts”, “that which grinds”, “that whose blow smashes and destroys things”. Colloquially kut́t́ii means “hill”. Kut́t́ii + rá + d́a = kut́t́iira. Kut́t́iira means “high hill” or “mountain”, or else a house that rises very high within a small space. Remember that kut́ira [hut] has one t́ while kutt́t́iirra has two; there is a short i in kut́ira while kut́t́iira has a long ii. Kut́t́iira must be spelled with long ii.

Kut́ha

Kut́h + ka = kut́ha. The verbal root kut́h means “sitting idle at one place”, or “spreading a net all around while remaining in one place”. The verbal root kut́h is the verbal form for laziness. That is why kuŕe, which is derived from the root kut́h, means “lazy” (kut́haka > kud́haa > kuŕhaa >kuŕe). The colloquial meaning of kut́ha is:

1. Tree.

2. Another meaning of kut́ha is “hill”. Kut́ha means “that which is stationary by nature”. A tree is also stationary by nature, as is a hill; hence another name for “hill” is acala [non-moving]. So the word kut́ha is used for trees and hills.

Kut́hára

Kut́ha + r +d́a + ań (or its elongated form). The meaning of the root r is “to move forward”, from which the word árya [Aryan] is derived. The etymological meaning of the word kut́hára is “that which moves towards kut́ha or tree”. Colloquially the word kut́hára means “axe”.

One meaning of the word ra, derived from the root verb r, is “one who moves forward”. In ancient times when people started using horses to pull carts, they used to cry out ra to urge the horse to move forward. They used to say “ra-ra-ra” and the horse moved forward. And when they said tha, they were telling it to stop (tha-tha-tha, i.e., sthá + d́a = stha > tha). That cart or carriage or vehicle was called ratha [chariot].

Kut́háriká

Kut́háriká means “a small axe”, one that is usually not used for cutting trees.

Kut́háru

The word kut́háru is derived by adding the suffix uń to kut́h + r. Its etymological meaning is “that which moves towards a tree”. The colloquial meanings of kut́háru are:

1. A person armed with weapons.

2. Another meaning of kut́háru is “a person holding an axe”.

3. Another meaning of kut́háru is “the black-mouthed monkey” or hanumán.

4. Another meaning of kut́háru is “the gibbon family of apes”, which includes many species. Those with red mouths and red posteriors are called kut́háru.

5. Another meaning of kut́háru is “squirrel”.

6. Another meaning of kut́háru is “the person wearing chain mail or the warrior or kśattriya who resists earthly weapons”.

7. Yet another meaning of kut́háru is “a person who wears an armour of intellect”, i.e., one who resists others through the force of their intellect. In ancient times, kut́háru in this sense used to refer to the Kayasthas as well. Since the Kayasthas were clothed in the armour of intellect, one of their surnames was Barman or Barmá [Verma].

Kut́hi

Kut́h + i = kut́hi. The etymological meaning is “one who stands idle and motionless”. Colloquially kut́hi refers to:

1. A very high mountain.

2. The second meaning of kut́hi is “large building or residence”. The words niilakut́hi [large indigo factory], reshamkut́hi [silk house], etc., used to be quite prevalent in Bengali. In North India this word kut́hi has undergone distortion and is pronounced kot́hii. The pronunciation kot́hii is incorrect; it should be kut́hi.

Kut́hera

Kut́h + erach = kut́hera. The etymological meaning of kut́hera is “one whose movement is towards the quality of a tree”, that is, one who wants timber. The colloquial meanings of kut́hera are:

1. Sandalwood⁽¹⁾ tree. By sandalwood tree we refer primarily to the white sandalwood (another name of white sandalwood is shriikhańd́a), since red sandalwood does not belong to the sandalwood family at all according to the science of botany. It is a forest tree belonging to a completely different species; its leaves also are completely different. There are only a few species of white sandalwood. Of these, the Sri Lankan and Indonesian species are the dominant species. The sandalwood that grows in India, especially in Karnataka and adjacent areas, is mostly the Sri Lankan species. It differs from the Indonesian species in that it is relatively more fragrant. Generally it is a little shorter than that of the Indonesian species. During its infancy the roots of this sandalwood are weak, so it cannot draw fluids from the deeper recesses of the earth’s water table. That is why it should be planted near another tree that can easily draw up this deep-lying water towards the roots of the sandalwood and help it to take in water.

   Generally the swallow wort [Calotropis gigantia], tamarind and cactus are planted as auxiliary plants. This species of sandalwood prefers a somewhat dry climate but it does not like intense heat. It dies in its infancy in Bengal as well as in areas of heavy rainfall, and it also does not survive in the extremely hot areas of North India either; it dries up in the intense heat. Apart from South India, the area most suitable for it is the Ráŕh region of Bengal, that is, the areas of Purulia, Birbhum and Bankura, where it can grow easily. The tree begins emitting its scent when it reaches about twenty years of age. It takes longer for trees belonging to the Indonesian species to begin producing scent. I have seen a tree belonging to the Indonesian species that was not producing any scent even after twenty-eight years of age.

   The red sandalwood is a forest tree with mildly fragrant red timber; it generally prefers somewhat hilly areas with medium rainfall. Red sandalwood can grow very easily in Assam, Bengal and Orissa. Red sandalwood trees grow fast and are larger than white sandalwood. In most cases where there is a red sandalwood tree near a white sandalwood tree, it is found that the white sandalwood tree dies under the dominance of the red sandalwood tree. The red sandalwood tree has indomitable vitality. However, red sandalwood has hardly any utility value compared to white sandalwood. Followers of orthodox religion generally use red sandalwood for worship of the goddess Kali and for sun worship. At one time the use of red sandalwood was widely prevalent among the Shákadviipii Brahmans. Today it is no longer so. Black sandalwood is a sub-species of white sandalwood. This sandalwood is generally used for oil preparation.

2. You know that basil [tulasii] leaves are sometimes medium-sized and sometimes small-sized with black spots, what is called krśńa tulasii [black basil] in Bengali. In certain parts of North India it is alsocalled ráma tulasii. Of the thirty-two species of basil⁽²⁾ in the world, this is the largest in size. I have seen black basil double a man’s height in more than one place.

   Normally the basil with larger-sized green leaves that does not grow very large is called rádhá tulasii. Rádhá tulasii is mainly of two species. The leaves of one species have a light green colour and a stronger, soft scent. The other species has even lighter green leaves – whitish-green you can say. Its scent is weaker but its wood is relatively stronger.

   Basil garlands are made from the wood of this whitish rádhá tulasii and certain communities use them as a necklace. Another meaning of the word kut́hera is this rádhá tulasii with whitish-green leaves.

Kut́heraka

Kut́hera + kan = kut́heraka. The etymological meaning of kut́heraka is kut́hera or “white basil”, or “that which is connected with white sandalwood”. The whitish wood of rádhá tulasii from which necklaces are made, and which produces a kind of paste called vrajapralepa when rubbed on a candanpiṋŕi [stone-mortar used for sandalwood], is also called kut́heraka.

Kut́heru

Kut́her + uń = kut́heru. The etymological meaning of kut́heru is “that which is stable”, or “that which is set in limited surroundings”. The colloquial meanings of kut́heru are:

1. Well water.

2. The other meaning of kut́heru is “the breeze from a fan”, whether a hand fan or an electric fan.

   Since well water is stagnant, people in ancient times would not use this water for different kinds of religious rites. They would use Ganges water, or if that was not available then the water of some other river. If that was also not available then they would use the water of a large lake (báṋdh in Ráŕhii Bengali) and purify that water with the help of sacred incantations. Sarah or sarobara (báṋdh in Ráŕhii Bengali) refers to a water reservoir with large waves in which fish eggs burst open and young fish are born. Those reservoirs that have small waves due to being smaller in size, and in which fish eggs do not burst open, are called puśkarińii (pukura – in Ráŕhii Bengali pokurá), taŕága, diirghiká (diighi), gaŕe or d́obá [varieties of ponds]. The fish that live in these kinds of small bodies of water can be generally divided into three groups: (1) Long-lived fish (anabas, catfish, barbel, etc.). These long-lived fish can survive for quite some time after being taken out of the water. Since they can be kept alive for a long time in a pot with a little water they are called jiiyal [long-lived] fish⁽³⁾ (2) The second group is called cárá fish [small fish]. Khayrá, khorsolá, saral puṋt́i (also called sar puṋt́i), belegugli, pet́haldii and so on, belong to this group. Their eggs sometimes open due to the impact of the waves but often they do not. (3)The third group is called kuco or bhuso fish [tiny fish], for example, teṋto puṋt́i, chot́o khayrá, tecoká, prawn, shrimp, etc. Their eggs open in small bodies of water, even in the puddles of autumn paddy fields.

   The water in puśkarińii, taŕága, diirghiká (diighi), gaŕe and d́obá is also considered to be stagnant water and thus impure. Mánasa Sarobara [in Tibet] is a huge body of water and for this reason its water is considered sacred.

3. If a hand fan is used in a small room it certainly generates some breeze but that breeze does not give much relief from the fatigue of summer. Such a breeze within those small confines becomes more and more injurious to health with every passing moment. The breeze of an electric fan within a closed environment is even more harmful. If a person sleeps with this kind of a breeze they feel heavy when they wake up; a weak or sick person feels feverish. The breeze generated by a fan within a confined space is called kut́heru; since ancient times it has been considered as something which should be avoided.

Kud́a

Kud́ + ka = kud́a. The verbal root kud́ means: “to indulge in childish pranks” (in a pejorative sense, just as in English the word “childish” is used in a pejorative sense while the word “childlike” is used in a praiseworthy sense), “to cling to something without reason, or refusal to give it up”, “to gulp down food in a great hurry without a sense of etiquette”, “to flail one’s arms and legs, or to hurt somebody without any intention of striking them”, “to burn something, thus making it fit for use (for example, a clay pot)”. Etymologically kud́ refers to different states of matter originating from some action. In colloquial usage kud́ means:

1. The human body.

2. Kud́ means a resultant or altered state – in this sense, rice powder or rice dust.

3. White ash is called páḿshu. That is why light gray colour is also called páḿshu. The name of our Paskura [a sub-division in Midnapur district of West Bengal] is derived from páḿshukud́a. The spelling in modern Bengali should be Páṋshkuŕá.

Kud́i

Kud́ + i = Kud́i (the pronunciation should be kuŕi as there is no separate letter ŕ in the Sanskrit alphabet). Kud́i means “the entire human body with twenty fingers and toes”. In old Austric language also the human body was called kuŕŕ. The word kuŕi [twenty] is derived from this kuŕŕ. In olden days when the Austric people were not well versed in calculation of numbers, they were naturally not acquainted with numerals. To indicate one they showed one finger; to indicate five they showed one hand; to indicate ten they showed two hands; to indicate fifteen they showed two hands and one foot; and to indicate twenty they showed the entire human body with its twenty fingers and toes. In this way the word kuŕi was introduced into Bengali. In some people’s opinion the word kuŕi is adopted into Sanskrit, that is, it is originally Austric and then later accepted in Sanskrit.

Kud́upa

Kud́ + uń +pá +d́a = kud́upa. The etymological meaning of kud́upa is “that which holds something or clings to it”, that is, a ring-like object. Colloquially kud́upa has several meanings.

1. One meaning is “necklace” or “bracelet” or other valuable jeweled ornaments of this type that are fastened with a ring; kud́upa refers to that ring. If such a ring were not used, then such precious jeweled ornaments would have to be much larger in size, which would be quite expensive on the one hand and somewhat ugly on the other.

2. Kud́upa refers to any ring, big or small; it also means rings made with fingers or the secure holding of something, with interlocking fingers.

3. Another meaning of kud́upa is a lock which is opened with a key and when locked a little pressure is needed. In this case it should be remembered that cábi [key] is an Iberian word. In old Bengali it was called kát́hi. In Sanskrit it is kuiṋjiká, from which the word kuṋjii is derived in Hindustani.

   Kitáboṋ kii kuṋjii tere háthoṋmeṋ hái,
   Agar yád karleṋ to kyá vát hái.

   [The keys of the books are in your hands. If you commit them to memory how nice it would be.]

   The word cábi has been in use in Bengali for nearly four hundred years, but we have not yet completely discarded the word kát́hi. For instance, even now we often say cábikát́hi (sindukt́i tomár cábi-kát́hi ámár– “the chest is yours, the key is mine”.

4. Kud́upa may also mean an automatic press lock.

   Although there is no separate letter ŕa in Sanskrit, if the letter d́a occurs in the middle or at the end of a word it is pronounced ŕa. So we write kud́upa but pronounce it kuŕupa. You know that the letter d́ha is not always pronounced in the same way. It is pronounced d́ha at the beginning of a word but ŕha in the middle or end, for example, d́hakká [drum] but Áśá[d́]ŕha [third month of Bengali calendar]; similarly d́anká [trumpet] but á [d́]ŕhambara [pomp and grandeur]. However, in those cases where the letters are pronounced without the terminal vowel, the rule is that if they are joined to an antahstha⁽⁴⁾ letter [ya, ra, la, va], then their original pronunciation is retained. For example, in the spelling kud́ya the letter d́a does not occur at the beginning of the word. So for this reason it should have been kuŕya, but it is not because here the antahstha letter ya has been joined to d́a. So even though the letter d́a occurs in the middle or at the end, it is not pronounced ŕa, but rather d́a. Similarly, in the spelling of the word áryya the letter ya is not at the beginning. For that reason its pronunciation should have been like antahstha, i.e., áryya. Since in this case the antahstha letter ra has been conjoined to the letter ya, the pronunciation should be árya [árja] and not áryya. For this reason the pronunciations káryyálaya, káryyakrama, áryya, paryyaya are not correct; they should be káryálaya, káryakrama, árya, paryáya, etc.

Kud́ya

Kud́ + yac = kud́ya. Kud́ya means “that which has been hardened by burning”. Colloquially kud́ya means:

1. The walls of a room. The word dewál [wall], prevalent in Bengali, is derived from the Sanskrit diipávara (diipávara > diivár > diivál > dewál > dyál). The common folk of Bihar say diivál (pronounced diivár). In Sanskrit a boundary wall is called práciira (páṋcil) or prákára.

2. One meaning of kud́ya is “the inner wall of a room”.

3. The other meaning of kud́ya is “serious question” – question, query, enquiry, inquiry. “Enquire” and “inquire” are synonymous. Earlier “inquire” was more frequent in English while at present “enquire” is more in vogue. Earlier the word “insure” was more frequent while currently the word “assure” is more common. It is fashionable now to write or say tadanta kamishan for “enquiry commission”. There is no need for so many words. For this we can say kud́ya or kud́yakarańa. The Bengali rendering of “Plane Accident Enquiry Commission” will be Vimánapota Durghat́aná Kud́yakarańa’ or just Vimánapota-kud́ya.

Kuńd́a

Kud́ (kud́i) + ach gives us the word kuńd́a whose etymo-logical meaning is “something fixed or measured”. One colloquial meaning of kuńd́a is:

1. “Hole” (gartta). Gartta is an original Sanskrit word (gartta > gat́t́a >gát́t́á >gád́d́á). In north India the word gad́d́á is used to mean kuńd́á.

2. The second meaning of the word kuńd́a is “a triangular or square or hexagonal pit used for the performance of a sacrificial rite (yajiṋakuńd́a)”.

3. Another meaning of kuńd́a is “that pit in which in ancient times the keepers of the sacred fire (ságnikas or agnihotriis) preserved their fire”, that is, agnikuńd́a.

4. Another meaning of the word kuńd́a is “that pit, normally square in shape (but triangular and other-angled shapes also are not uncommon), in which sacred water or the water of a holy place was kept”.

5. Another meaning of the word kuńd́a is “a small body of water regarded as a holy place”; For example, Sitákuńd́a.

6. Another meaning of the word kuńd́a is “the bamboo shoot (teuŕa) that emerges from a bamboo cluster”. We also call a banana shoot a teuŕa, in Bengali, but a bamboo shoot is not called a teuŕa but rather a koṋŕa. The word koṋŕa comes from the word kuńd́a.

7. Another meaning of the word kuńd́a is a specific measuring unit. If a hollow bamboo is cut below one knob, and then cut again below the preceding knob, then it creates a hollow tube with a knob at its base. This bamboo tube has been used for measurements since ancient times. This bamboo tube was widely used in ancient India for measuring milk, oil, juice, thin raw sugar, etc. In our childhood, when we used to visit the oil-miller’s house to buy pressed oil, the oil-miller’s wife used to give us oil from this bamboo tube. I have seen in North Bengal that they used to make yogurt in this bamboo tube. You can also call a loudspeaker tube kuńd́a.

   The word kuńd́a has also been used to refer to undesirable intruders or floating population; that is, in this sense kuńd́a means “vagrant” or “gipsy”.

Kuńd́akiit́a

Kúnd́a means “a limited body of water”. Various kinds of moss-eating insects take shelter in stagnant ponds, and different varieties of lizards and members of the iguana and chameleon families gather there in order to eat these moss-eating insects. All of them are confined to this limited domain; they cannot go outside it. Even if they are driven out they return to that place. A person who remains within a limited domain, who does not see the outside world, we call a “frog in the well” (kúpamańd́uka in Bengali; kúyá ke med́haka in Hindi).

The word med́haka in Hindi comes from mańd́uka. The d́a of the original word has changed to d́ha. This happens only with ńd́a, that is, it is not prevalent or ubiquitous. The same type of change occurs with the word d́heṋki, which is derived from d́hend́haka or d́hend́hakii. Of course, the word d́hend́haka or d́hend́hakii was once quite common in Sanskrit. Whether or not a person is a frog in the well, they are called kuńd́akiit́a [kuńd́a insect] if their thought has no external movement, that is, if their thought remains circumscribed, if they are guided by dogma, or if they cannot think of the external world due to being guided by dogma.

Someone who resides in Bajepratappur of Burdwan District and who has never been out of Bajepratappur, we call a frog in the well, while we cannot call someone a frog in the well if they have been outside of Burdwan on numerous occasions. But if that person shows poverty of thought, if they cannot move even a single step outside the bounds of dogma or do not have the courage to move ahead, then instead of calling them a frog in the well we can call them a kuńd́akiit́a.

Kuńd́ala

Kuńd́a + lá + d́a = kuńd́ala. Its etymological meaning is “that which holds the kuńd́a”. There is another view which holds that the word kuńd́ala is also derived by adding the suffix alac to the root verb kud́. The root verb lá begins with la. Notwithstanding those who assert that the word is derived by adding the suffix alac, I will point out that the la of alac is a suffixed la; here it must be an initial la. Thus an initial la is used to spell kund́ala. The colloquial meanings of kuńd́ala are:

1. A kind of earring.

2. The second meaning of kuńd́ala is “a bracelet with a lock for the upper arm”.

3. Another meaning of kuńd́ala is “a thin chain that hangs down below the navel” (maph chain, kańt́hahára in chaste Bengali). Saḿvád dáo, dákáo dákáo, e kańt́hahára – puraskára [“Pass on the news, call him, call him, for this kánthahára is a reward”.]

4. Another meaning of the word kuńd́ala is “necklace”. The corresponding ornament for the ear is called karńakuńd́ala; a bracelet is called karakuńd́ala; the maph chain is galakuńd́ala; and a necklace is called kańt́hakuńd́ala.

5. Another meaning of kuńdala is “male snake”, that is, that which lies in a kuńd́alii (noose).

6. Kuńd́ala also means “shirt collar”.

7. Another meaning of kuńd́ala is “necktie”. In order to distinguish kuńd́ala when used in the sense of “necktie” from other kuńd́alas, it is also called griivakuńd́ala.

8. The word kuńd́ala is also used in the case of a person whose knowledge or scholarship is profound but without outward expression.
    

   When I mention that kuńd́ala means “shirt collar”, a small incident flashes before my mind’s eye.

   I was traveling from Máju to Mákaŕd́á. On the way I suddenly ran into Manimohana Manna. Many of you know our Manimohana. We say about people who are artful talkers that puffed rice bursts open from their mouths, but in the case of Manimohana I would say that puffed rice coated with raw sugar bursts open from his mouth. He is an expert talker but his every word is so sugarcoated that it seems to be puffed rice dipped in the famous palm raw sugar of Kolaghat.

   Anyhow I was travelling from Máju to Mákaŕd́á. This part of Howrah District is very fertile. It has been densely populated since ancient times. When Howrah fell within the jurisdiction of Burdwan it was the pride of Bengal. Afterwards, when it came within Hooghly District, it was regarded as one of the prosperous areas of Hooghly District. Later on, when Hooghly District was divided and Howrah District was formed, this area remained within Howrah District. Partially without industry, partially industrialized, it was the jewel of the region, shedding its lustre on the whole of Bengal through its scholarship, industriousness and erudition. There was a time when the vast Sarasvatii River used to flow through this area. The Sarasvatii River came out of the main branch of the Bhagiirathii River at Triveńi in Hooghly District’s Mogra Thana. It came out from the right side of the Bhagiirathii. The Yamuna River came from the exact opposite direction, that is, from the left side of the Bhagiirathii through the Chakda and Haringhata Thanas of what was then Nadia District, the adjoining region. This confluence of the rivers Ganges, Yamuna and Sarasvatii Rivers is renowned as the Triveńitiirtha [holy confluence of three rivers] or the Mukta [liberated] Triveńii.

   Muktaveńiir Gauṋgá jetháya mukti vitare rauńge.

   [The liberated stream of the Ganges joyously bestows liberation.]

   From there the Sarasvatii flowed through the fertile, verdant grasslands and grain fields of Hooghly District until it reached Howrah District. There it used to flow past the meadows of Kenduá on its right side. What we call nowadays the Kenduá meadows was a vast lake in prehistoric times. The lake gradually filled up and turned into the Kenduá marshlands or Kenduá meadows. Up until a hundred years ago the rice and paddy crops never failed in the Kenduá marshlands. Rice and rice paddy used to be exported from the port of Amta by ship to foreign lands along the Damodara River. Those days are gone. Nowadays the Damodara is almost dried up. Its water is not even knee-deep now, so the plying of ships is out of the question.

   After moving a little to the south it joined the Bhagiirathii near Andul. This Sarasvatiii river basin was at one time one of the wonders of the world for its people and wealth. The wealth and scholarship there used to humble even the most arrogant. Though that glory no longer exists, its memory remains, and that is precious enough. It is a matter of regret that Howrah District, like the city of Howrah, lies neglected and uncared for, though its prospects and possibilities are enormous.

   Mákaŕd́á was situated close to the Sarasvatii River in those days. Although a large part of the external trade of Bengal at that time was carried out from the Port de Bauṋgálá (Cattagram) and the Port de Grandi (Saptagram), Mákaŕd́á also was a busy port. Merchants belonging to the Sáhá, Támbuli, Gandhabańika and Suvarńabańika communities were the principle contributors to the growth of its wealth. Brahmans and Kayasthas brought the glow of scholarship, and the skilful peasants of the Máhiśya and Sadgope communities produced golden harvests. The heroism of the Kaivarta fishing community became famous far and wide. They were respected in the society as “Bara” [a surname], the best, and were primarily responsible for the formation of the navy of independent Bengal. This area was also home at that time to a shipbuilding factory where indigenous methods were used. That industry perished during British rule. The expert carpenters and Kaivarta fishermen of this place built those ships. The merchants of this area also set out to sea after loading their goods on those ships.

   Today things have changed. Mákaŕd́á or Sarasvatii has moved on, the Sarasvatii has dried up, and the wealth of Mákaŕd́á has been transferred to other places. There are three chief reasons for this. The first reason is the changing of course and subsequent drying-up of the Sarasvatii. The second reason is the decline of rural industries. The third reason is the loss of economic balance and equilibrium owing to defects in education and the social system. In general, in order to build a strong economy in a certain area thirty to forty percent of the population of that area – neither more nor less – should be dependent directly on agriculture. If it is less then agriculture is neglected; conversely, if it is more, then there will be a heavy strain on agriculture. That is exactly what has happened in this Máju-Mákaŕd́á region. What to speak of Máju-Mákaŕd́á, the same thing has happened throughout Ráŕh, throughout Bengal, throughout India, and even in China and the whole of the Southeast Asia. To combat this problem a new social and economic evaluation is necessary.

   Just as agriculture should be built up on an advanced scientific foundation, industry should also be organized in perfect adjustment with agriculture. The percentage of the population depending directly on agriculture should not exceed forty percent. Where rural industries have been destroyed, a major part of the population once engaged in that sector is now moving towards agriculture. Just as the percentage of people depending directly on agriculture should be thirty to forty percent for balanced economic development, about twenty percent of the people should depend on agro-industries, twenty percent on agrico-industries, ten percent on general trade and commerce, and ten percent on intellectual or white collar jobs.

   Because village industries have been ruined, those who depended on those industries have turned to agriculture. The percentage of merchants has not increased much; rather the opportunities for further growth have decreased. However the number of people looking for white-collar jobs has increased, resulting in soaring unemployment.

   The sons of farmers, after receiving a little education, are no longer willing to labour in the fields. They want to become Babus [title of a Hindu gentleman]; they consider farm work to be menial labour. As a consequence there is a dearth of educated youths in agriculture on the one hand, and on the other an increasing number of people from other vocations turning towards agriculture. In the rural areas the percentage of the population depending primarily on agriculture has gone up to seventy or eighty percent. What an unbearable situation! So just as social and economic life in other parts of Bengal has been turned upside down, Máju-Mákaŕd́á is no exception. This Máju-Mákaŕd́á region was Howrah District’s greatest potential for economic development but that hope has been shattered. Today the city of Howrah is neglected, so it is not capable of supplying vital energy to rural Bengal.

   Non-agricultural industry (such as steel plants, brass industry, metal industry, oil refineries, salt industry and non-plant based pharmaceuticals) refers to those industries that are neither direct agrico-industries (such as the production of pick-axes, spades and tractors) nor industries that are directly dependent on agriculture, that is, agro-industries (such as jute mills, cloth factories, flour mills, paper mills and plant-based medicines). The percentage of people engaged in non-agricultural industry should be formed by reducing the percentage of people depending directly on agriculture, reducing the percentage of people depending on agrico-industries and reducing the percentage of people engaged in agro-industries. The percentage of people engaged in non-agricultural industries should be kept within twenty to thirty of the total population. If the percentage is less than twenty percent, the country is said to be industrially undeveloped and the per capita income of the people cannot be very high. The standard of living also cannot be very high because the purchasing capacity of the people remains very limited. Due to the reduced capacity for purchasing consumer goods, the import index remains lower than the export index or the area has to remain a satellite of a developed country. As a consequence, the balance of power in the world is jeopardized and the possibility of war is always around the corner.

   If the percentage of people engaged in non-agricultural industry is kept between twenty and thirty percent of the population, then it creates a state of balance, a balanced socio-economic system. If the percentage goes beyond thirty percent it becomes an industrially developed area. The more the percentage rises beyond thirty percent, the more the area goes from industrially developed to industrially over-developed. In order to procure agricultural produce the industrially over-developed countries try to convert agriculturally predominant regions into their satellites. They feel the need to keep these industrially undeveloped countries under their control in order to serve as a market for their finished goods. If they do not obtain markets for their industrially produced consumer goods, they will have to suffer from economic recessions and growing unemployment.

   In this regard, there is no difference between communist and non-communist countries. All of them are equally aggressive in their approach. They are desperately searching for the wish-fulfilling cow, which they want to keep tied to their door, feeding it the minimum amount of fodder. Is it any wonder there are so many wars and conflicts in the world, so much war psychosis and sabre-rattling! Efforts must be made so that each and every country of the world can enjoy a balanced state in both agriculture and industry; otherwise the socio-economic balance of the world is bound to be destroyed.

   The negative consequences of over-industrialization result in the deterioration of the personal, social and political health; due to the gradual psychic degeneration of both individuals and the collective, a kind of psychic epidemic may become rampant any moment which can endanger or jeopardize every expression of life. It may not happen today, but it will surely happen in the near future.

   Where the industrial system (whether it is agro-industry, agrico-industry or non-agricultural industry) depends on outside labourers, the situation becomes precarious. The speed of psychic degeneration accelerates. Such a region will suffer from a chronic scarcity of food. The possibility of expanding the markets for their consumer goods will be gradually become curtailed. As an example, we can look at Howrah, Hooghly, 24-Parganas and Burdwan. Since the labourers there are outsiders, the local people will never see good days. However developed or over-developed these areas might become, they will have to endure the ill effects of over-industrialization without being able to enjoy any of the benefits of industrialization. This sort of scenario can be seen daily in Howrah District. Moreover there are still many such areas in India where ninety percent of the population consists of farmers. There is no industry whatsoever in those areas. They are completely surplus labour areas. A balanced socio-economic structure will have neither surplus labour nor deficit labour. It cannot be permitted.

   The agricultural system should be built up similar to the industrial system; that is, the prices of agricultural produce should be determined by considering basic factors like agricultural income, expenses and necessities. In other words, the farmers of Burdwan and Birbhum should not be forced to sell their rice at throwaway prices. Similarly, the farmers of Hooghly district should not be compelled to sell their potatoes at cheap prices, and the farmers of Nadia District should not be forced to sell their jute at low prices in order to pay off their debts.

   Yes, Mákaŕd́á is still some distance away. I remember now that old history of Mákaŕd́á. Rich in scholarship and wealth, Mákaŕd́á was once a center of Maháyána Buddhism. Just as Támralipta (Tamluk) was a center of Maháyána Buddhism and an external port, so also was Mákaŕd́á. Tamluk’s Vargabhiimá is a goddess of the Buddhist period. Even though Mákaŕd́á’s Mákaŕdácańd́ii (Márkańd́eyii Cámuńd́ii or Márkańd́eyii Vajratárá; both are canonized in Buddhist Tantric treatises) cannot exactly be said to be a Buddhist goddess; she is nevertheless a popular goddess from the Buddhist period.

   When the Bengalees abandoned Buddhism and they kept Mákaŕdácańd́ii but gave her a different name. But the fact that Mákaŕdácańd́ii is a popular goddess from the Buddhist period is suggested by its dhyanamantra [incantation for meditation] and by its similarity to the idol. It also clearly indicates that Mákaŕd́á is not from the present period.

   Anyhow I ran into Manimohana Manna. He was going from his maternal uncle’s place in Máju to the house of his paternal aunt in Mákaŕd́á, planning to enjoy some delicious sweet pies and sweet-rice there before returning to his home in Mauriigrama.

   “What are you up to nowadays?” I asked him, “taking so much holiday time, so many visits to your uncle’s house and your aunt’s house!”

   “I have taken a long leave,” he replied. “As you know, our Howrah District’s Paośa festival is a very big festival. There are sweet pies and sweet-rice in every house.”

   Sukher shishir kála sukhapurńa dhará,
   Eta bhauṋga bauṋgadesh tabu rauṋge bhará.

   [The world brims with joy in these dewy, happy times. So broken is the land of Bengal, yet so colorful.]

   “Yes, you can say that”, I told him, “but what are you doing now?”

   “I’m a bench clerk nowadays.”

   “Bench clerk! That’s quite a respectable position, is it not?”

   “It’s respectable, no doubt, but that respect is not worth anything if the magistrate is no good.”

   “I can guess from what you are saying that perhaps you are not lucky enough to have a suitable magistrate these days.”

   “You are exactly right.”

   “What is your problem?”

   “This magistrate is overly fastidious. Magistrates generally don’t bother about petty matters; they leave that to their bench clerks. Fixing the dates for court cases is surely the bench clerk’s job. However this magistrate is different. He asks me for reports about everything. He thinks over everything and then makes his own decisions. I find myself in a trying situation. Should a bench clerk have to submit so many reports? A bench clerk (peshkára) is someone who submits (pesh kará) or places (nyás kará) papers before the collector. He places or deposits (upanyás kará) them with the magistrate, so the Sanskrit word for bench clerk is aopanyásika (upa means near). But this magistrate is making my life a hell. I had to get out of there.”

   “Is your magistrate a full magistrate?” I asked.

   “No. Had he been a full magistrate it would not be so difficult. Full magistrates are learned, intelligent and sympathetic to the sorrows of others. He hasn’t passed to magistrate yet; he is an anáhárii⁽⁵⁾ magistrate. That is why I have to suffer so much.”

   “He may trouble you, but what do the peons and orderlies say?”

   “The orderly Master Bigan Singh went on leave because he couldn’t take it any more.”

   “Bigan Singh! What a funny name!”

   “In Magadh for ‘throwing away something’ one says big dená. Parents who lose many children leave (big dená) their baby in a garbage bin in a last effort to save them. Then they take their baby back into their lap pretending that they are picking up some trash from the dustbin. Their secret hope is that by being something picked up from the garbage bin, the god of death might not touch the child, that is, take it to the house of death.”

   “All sahibs are not the same,” I told him. “Some are gentle, some ill-tempered, some miserly and some generous. The bench clerk has to understand all this and keep the magistrate in a good mood. Have you forgotten that different offerings have to be arranged to please the different deities?”

   “You are quite right,” Manimohana replied, “but I can’t stand it any more. I am thinking of going on extended leave. When this anáhárii magistrate is no longer here and when my emotional wounds have healed, then I will go back to work.”

   “It’s not only that this anáhárii magistrate is troublesome,” Manimohana continued. “Because we humour him, the other employees criticize and ridicule us.”

   “How so?” I asked.

   “I’ll tell you one small incident. Our sahib, this anáhárii magistrate, is a skinflint, downright niggardly. But when it comes to himself he is quite generous. Recently he ordered an expensive imported shirt with a French silk collar from Paris, the capital of France. He even attended the office wearing this shirt once or twice but over the shirt he wore an ordinary, cheap coat. You may remember that there was a cyclone some days back which hit the southwest coast of Bengal. On the radio they said that there was a low-pressure system over the Bay of Bengal, or some such thing. There was a heavy rainstorm in the city that day. Everyone was completely drenched on their way to court. What could the magistrates do? They took off their coats and shirts and sat in the courtroom in their undershirts. The ordinary employees took off their shirts and brightened the room by sitting in their chairs bare-chested, like the roly-poly god Gańesha. I sat there with my torn undershirt on. The cool breeze was coming in through a hole in the undershirt; actually it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Our sahib, however, was unwilling to take off his coat. I could see that underneath the coat he was wearing the same expensive French silk shirt with its dazzling collar. The sahib’s coat was completely drenched.”

   “I told him, ́Sahib, please give me your coat. I’ll get it dried. It will be dry before we return home. Don’t you see that the sun is shining outside?’”

   “The sahib was reluctant to take off his coat. There was a secret desire in my mind that I would make my human life blessed by fixing my greedy eyes again and again on his French silk shirt. Our luck was never going to favour us with such a shirt. Nor did I entertain such a dream. But the sahib was still reluctant to take off his coat. ́Sir, please take off your coat,’ I told him, ́your body will be wet and you will fall ill.’ Good or bad, the sahib said nothing.”

   “The other magistrates have taken off their coats and shirts and are in their undershirts,’ I told him, ́but you can continue to wear your shirt. However, it would not be wise to continue wearing that wet coat.’”

   “Even then the sahib said nothing.”

   “Then I took the initiative and started unbuttoning his coat. This time the sahib had no more objections. There were a few newspaper reporters around. Had the sahib objected, they might have published in the newspapers that there was an uproar and a scuffle in the court, a tussle between the bench clerk and the anáhárii magistrate.”

   “As there was no hindrance from the sahib, I took off his coat. But can you believe it! The collar of the sahib’s French silk shirt was fine, so were the buttonholes, but the back of the shirt was missing. Nor did it have a front or any sleeves. The sahib had bought a torn shirt from some second-hand shop and worn it inside his coat to show off in front of us. He had told us that his paternal aunt’s son’s paternal uncle’s daughter’s niece’s husband’s paternal aunt’s son had paid a French tailor five thousand rupees to make the shirt and then had sent it here by air.”

   “I was flabbergasted. The sahib ran off to his personal chamber and bolted the door behind him. He did not come out until court was over for the day. The court orderly, Bigan Singh, recited a little ditty, uparme phit́phát́ niice mokámághát́ [spick and span on the surface, a dirty wharf below]. From then on the court employees were afraid to recite the ditty they had learned from Bigan within earshot of the Sahib, but whenever they saw us they repeated it – uparme phit́phát́ niice mokámághát́.”

   “Now tell me what I should do. What else can I do but go on extended leave?”

   “Your anáhárii magistrate certainly has a great sense of humour,” I told him. “He is a juicy humorist like a sweet, juicy drop of pulped pigeon pea dipped in date-palm raw sugar.”

   “A hundred percent correct, a hundred percent, but I want to be rid of that sweet, juicy drop.”

   “What is the name of your anáhárii magistrate?” I asked.

   “His name is Shrii Akalmand Singh, address Sińt́i Shavapura, ledger number 6,000,000 (sixty lakhs), plot number 666.”
    

Kuńd́aliká

A coil-shaped sweet fried in oil and soaked in raw sugar.

Kuńd́alin

Kuńd́ala + in = kuńd́alin. The etymological meaning of kuńd́alin is “connected with kuńd́alii (coil)”.

The colloquial meanings of kuńd́alin are:

1. Snake.

2. Kuńd́alin refers to the Tantrik shakti [divine creative force] or the shakti cult.

3. Kuńd́alin also refers to pigeon pea curry (dhokár d́álná). In ancient times this curry was also made of chickpeas, chickpea flour, husked peas and green peas. To tell them apart they were called cańaka-kuńd́alina [chick-pea], vyashana-kuńd́alina [chickpea flour], kaláya-kuńd́alina [husked peas] and ámakaláya-kuńd́alina [green peas].

4. Kuńd́alina also means cháná [cheese] curry. In this case there is no additional conjunct before the word kuńd́alina, that is, the word kuńd́alin alone means cháná curry. Some people spell dhoká with the nasal sign. This is incorrect. If you use the nasal sign, then the word becomes dhoṋká, which means “bluffing”.

Kuńd́alinii

Kuńd́ala +ṋiic = kuńd́alinii. Kuńd́alinii means:

1. She who is lying in a coil (kuńd́alii).

2. Another meaning of kuńd́alinii is “sleeping divinity”.

3. The other meaning of kuńd́alinii is “female snake”.

4. Kuńd́alinii also refers to a coil-shaped sweet fried in oil and soaked in molasses syrup.

Kuńd́alii

1. A piece of rope that is formed into a circle at one end, that is, a noose. Sarpakuńd́alii means “serpentine noose”.

2. Another meaning is a coil-shaped sweet fried in ghee and soaked in sugar syrup.

Kuńd́u

Kuńd́ +ú = kuńd́u. The etymological meaning is, “one who clings”, that is, the owner of enormous wealth. The colloquial meaning is shreśt́hii, that is, one who is the owner of five lakhs [500,000] of gold coins. In a general sense kuńd́u refers to any merchant. The words shet́h, shet́hii, cettii, cettiar, and so on, are derived from shreśt́hii.

Footnotes

(1) In the Kolkata garden of this writer there are different species of white and red sandalwood. Any interested person, after taking permission from the garden authorities, can come and examine personally the difference between the two types of sandalwood.

(2) There are fourteen species of basil from different countries in the author’s garden. One of these species is called “camphor basil” and camphor can be derived from its sap. Of course, there are also camphor trees. In the modern world camphor produced chemically in a factory (synthetic camphor) is more widely used than herbal camphor.

(3) Jii means “life” in Bengali.

(4) Antahstha varńa: These letters are not pure consonants but rather midway between consonants and vowels; thus they are called antahstha varńa [letters lying in between]. –Trans.

(5) Literally “starving;” jocular for “honorary”.