FOREIGN EXCHANGE: I am Bandit — Kalpana Sahni
Daily Times (Pakistan)
A simple word like “mai” can mean “wood”, “silk”, “burn”, “new” or “not”, all depending on the tone and pitch of one’s pronunciation. I had had a very frustrating morning trying to get soap in the hotel. Whichever way I sang the word I still got a blank expression in return. It was my acting prowess that got me what I desperately needed
On the Thai island of Koh Samui there is a speedboat with a rather strange name, “I am Bandit”. Could it be a warning about the reckless speed of the man at the wheel or is the man boasting about his “profession”, or else, is it just a way of warding off the evil eye? I decided it must be the latter.
The Thais are among the gentlest of people who are forever smiling. I never witnessed any quarrels on the streets, or any impatient honking of cars. Even the demonstrations in Bangkok against Prime Minister Thaksin were orderly and peaceful — truly a Suvarnabhoomi (land of gold in Sanskrit), so aptly named by Emperor Ashoka in the 2nd or 3rd century BC. Yet every morning and evening “I am Bandit” hurtled at breakneck speed, upsetting the tranquil turquoise waters as it headed towards the distant jetty where it disgorged its petrified passengers.
At the end of two weeks I had collected a few familiar sounding words. I became aware that during the period of ancient contacts with our subcontinent, Sanskrit terms had been introduced to the Thai language through Khmer. With this list I headed for a shop where luckily the owner spoke English. I discovered that “sok” (happiness) was indeed from “such” and “singha” was lion. However, Thai is a tonal language with five different pitches that needs one to “sing” the word exactly at the right pitch otherwise the Thais might just get it all wrong.
Imagine a simple word like “mai” can mean “wood”, “silk”, “burn”, “new” or “not”, all depending on the tone and pitch of one’s pronunciation. I had had a very frustrating morning trying to get soap in the hotel. Whichever way I sang the word I still got a blank expression in return. It was my acting prowess that got me what I desperately needed. We must all seem tone deaf to the Thais who have given up on foreigners ever being able to pronounce their names correctly, and so have found easy equivalents.
There is Ping Pong, an energetic young girl running a resort and two sisters, Tip and Top, maintaining a plant nursery... But still, “Why would somebody call their boat ‘bandit’?” I asked.
The Thai lady seemed surprised by my question.
“Oh-oh-ooo, bandit is a good word. Means wise person.”
Only then did something click in my brain and I saw the connection between “bandit” and “pandit”. Yes of course, the voiceless consonant “p” (in pandit) was replaced by a voiced “b”. A similar change occurred with the word “mantri” (minister), which became “mandarin” in Chinese. Then again, I don’t envy our ex-minister of Human Resource Development, Pandit Manohar Shyam Joshi being hosted by the Thais!
These two words are relatively simple examples of phonetic adjustments that are easy to decipher. I decided to find out a little more about the Khmer language, which, unlike Thai, is not tonal.
In the Angkor period of Cambodian history (9th-15th century) numerous Sanskrit and Pali words (by way of Buddhism) were absorbed into the Khmer language, and subsequently into Thai, since Thailand was a Khmer colony. The new words adjusted to their new homes imbibing the rules of pronunciation and sounds of the local languages.
The voiced consonants in the numerous Sanskrit and Pali words, though written accurately, became voiceless in speech. The Khmer equivalent: of Garuda is pronounced Krut, Brahma is written Preah Brum but pronounced Prom, and the incense “dhoop” becomes thoop. The reverse too can happen, i.e. when voiceless consonants become voiced: tara (star) is pronounced dara and the deity Varuna is Phirun.
Once we become aware of this it should not be too difficult to trace back to the Sanskrit or Pali originals. Nothing can be further from the truth! Take Angkor Wat, the magnificent 12th century temple dedicated to Vishnu in Cambodia. The first word Angkor is derived from the word for town “nagar”. The initial sound “n” changed its place with “a” and “nag” became “angk”, ending with “or” instead of “ar”. All this is about phonetic adaptation into a host language.
Does the following passage make sense?
“Preah Ream, Neang Seda and Preah Leak continued on again, meeting a yeak ...”
This Khmer or Cambodian text of the Ramayana translates as “Rama, Sita and Laxman continued on again, meeting a demon ...”
One needs expert guidance to comprehend how gaja (elephant in Sanskrit) becomes khot, or vajra (diamond) turns into pet! But the choicest examples of phonetic transference into the Khmer language I am leaving for the readers to guess: the first one is not too difficult. The equivalent word for India is: bpra– dtayh-eun–dee-a; Buddha is Bpray–ah bpoot; and Buddhism logically follows as Bpoot- ta — saa — s’naa. Please try singing them in their Thai variant to get a more authentic sound!
Dr Kalpana Sahni has been a professor at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. A doctorate in Russian literature, she has published extensively on literature and cross-cultural issues. She can be reached at sahni.kalpana@gmail.com
On the Thai island of Koh Samui there is a speedboat with a rather strange name, “I am Bandit”. Could it be a warning about the reckless speed of the man at the wheel or is the man boasting about his “profession”, or else, is it just a way of warding off the evil eye? I decided it must be the latter.
The Thais are among the gentlest of people who are forever smiling. I never witnessed any quarrels on the streets, or any impatient honking of cars. Even the demonstrations in Bangkok against Prime Minister Thaksin were orderly and peaceful — truly a Suvarnabhoomi (land of gold in Sanskrit), so aptly named by Emperor Ashoka in the 2nd or 3rd century BC. Yet every morning and evening “I am Bandit” hurtled at breakneck speed, upsetting the tranquil turquoise waters as it headed towards the distant jetty where it disgorged its petrified passengers.
At the end of two weeks I had collected a few familiar sounding words. I became aware that during the period of ancient contacts with our subcontinent, Sanskrit terms had been introduced to the Thai language through Khmer. With this list I headed for a shop where luckily the owner spoke English. I discovered that “sok” (happiness) was indeed from “such” and “singha” was lion. However, Thai is a tonal language with five different pitches that needs one to “sing” the word exactly at the right pitch otherwise the Thais might just get it all wrong.
Imagine a simple word like “mai” can mean “wood”, “silk”, “burn”, “new” or “not”, all depending on the tone and pitch of one’s pronunciation. I had had a very frustrating morning trying to get soap in the hotel. Whichever way I sang the word I still got a blank expression in return. It was my acting prowess that got me what I desperately needed. We must all seem tone deaf to the Thais who have given up on foreigners ever being able to pronounce their names correctly, and so have found easy equivalents.
There is Ping Pong, an energetic young girl running a resort and two sisters, Tip and Top, maintaining a plant nursery... But still, “Why would somebody call their boat ‘bandit’?” I asked.
The Thai lady seemed surprised by my question.
“Oh-oh-ooo, bandit is a good word. Means wise person.”
Only then did something click in my brain and I saw the connection between “bandit” and “pandit”. Yes of course, the voiceless consonant “p” (in pandit) was replaced by a voiced “b”. A similar change occurred with the word “mantri” (minister), which became “mandarin” in Chinese. Then again, I don’t envy our ex-minister of Human Resource Development, Pandit Manohar Shyam Joshi being hosted by the Thais!
These two words are relatively simple examples of phonetic adjustments that are easy to decipher. I decided to find out a little more about the Khmer language, which, unlike Thai, is not tonal.
In the Angkor period of Cambodian history (9th-15th century) numerous Sanskrit and Pali words (by way of Buddhism) were absorbed into the Khmer language, and subsequently into Thai, since Thailand was a Khmer colony. The new words adjusted to their new homes imbibing the rules of pronunciation and sounds of the local languages.
The voiced consonants in the numerous Sanskrit and Pali words, though written accurately, became voiceless in speech. The Khmer equivalent: of Garuda is pronounced Krut, Brahma is written Preah Brum but pronounced Prom, and the incense “dhoop” becomes thoop. The reverse too can happen, i.e. when voiceless consonants become voiced: tara (star) is pronounced dara and the deity Varuna is Phirun.
Once we become aware of this it should not be too difficult to trace back to the Sanskrit or Pali originals. Nothing can be further from the truth! Take Angkor Wat, the magnificent 12th century temple dedicated to Vishnu in Cambodia. The first word Angkor is derived from the word for town “nagar”. The initial sound “n” changed its place with “a” and “nag” became “angk”, ending with “or” instead of “ar”. All this is about phonetic adaptation into a host language.
Does the following passage make sense?
“Preah Ream, Neang Seda and Preah Leak continued on again, meeting a yeak ...”
This Khmer or Cambodian text of the Ramayana translates as “Rama, Sita and Laxman continued on again, meeting a demon ...”
One needs expert guidance to comprehend how gaja (elephant in Sanskrit) becomes khot, or vajra (diamond) turns into pet! But the choicest examples of phonetic transference into the Khmer language I am leaving for the readers to guess: the first one is not too difficult. The equivalent word for India is: bpra– dtayh-eun–dee-a; Buddha is Bpray–ah bpoot; and Buddhism logically follows as Bpoot- ta — saa — s’naa. Please try singing them in their Thai variant to get a more authentic sound!
Dr Kalpana Sahni has been a professor at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. A doctorate in Russian literature, she has published extensively on literature and cross-cultural issues. She can be reached at sahni.kalpana@gmail.com
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