“... the stars were coming out above him, in great processions of wheeling fire. He saw a great juggernaut of stars form in the sky and threaten to roll over and crush him…”
These words, in Ray Bradbury’s classic Fahrenheit 451 which I am reading, made me think of how Indian words have been embellishing the English language.
‘Juggernaut’ and ‘wheels’ are often used together to define an overwhelming force of circumstances from which one simply cannot escape.
With its origins in Shree Jagannath Temple at Puri, in India’s east coast state of Odisha, and in its thousand-year-old annual Hindu chariot-festival, the term ‘juggernaut wheels’ has achieved immense literary significance.
It is an allegorical reference to gigantic temple chariots, reputed to crush devotees under large powerful wheels. Once the ratha-yathra (chariot-journey) starts, there is no stopping it. Even if crowds of devotees thronged its path, and came in its way.
The exaggerated accounts of deaths of devotees under Jagannath’s wheels, and the apocryphal stories of pilgrims in devotional ecstasy throwing themselves into its path, to achieve moksha (salvation), gave rise to the term ‘juggernaut wheels’.
In this 1953 dystopian novel of Ray Bradbury, I could feel the protagonist Guy Montague’s emotions as he runs wild, as a fugitive, chased by sophisticated government machinery, both political and technological, unable to escape being crushed under the weighty wheels of inexorable circumstances.
On investigation, I found out that Charles Dickens had used the term ‘juggernaut’, much earlier, in ‘The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit’ published in 1844.
And so did Robert Louis Stevenson in ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’. And even H G Wells, and H W Longfellow.
But ‘juggernaut’ is one simple example, from thousands of Indian words and phrases which enrich English literature.
In 2015, Shashi Tharoor the Indian politician had said in a debate at Oxford University that, during their rule of India, the British had looted many things, including the word ‘loot’.
And he is right. Hindi words like ‘loot, jungle, bazaar, bungalow, Tiffin, verandah, shampoo, chutney and gym’ are all commonplace in English now.
For etymology lovers, here’s another interesting piece of information I found on a BBC website about ‘Hobson-Jobson’, a dictionary compiled by Colonel Henry Yule and AC Burnell.
The dictionary’s subtitle is: "A glossary of colloquial Anglo-Indian words and phrases, and of kindred terms etymological, historical, geographical and discursive”.
In their work, which consists of over 2000 Anglo-Indian entries, the authors write about a copper coin. In ancient India, the coin was called a ‘dumree’. And it was common, long before British Raj time, for people in India to say: 'No, I won't give a dumree!', referring to something of insignificant value.
On English tongues, apparently, ‘damree’ became ‘dam’, and was soon spelt as an already existing English word ‘damn’!
‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’. When Rhett Butler says this to Scarlett O'Hara, in the movie ‘Gone with the wind’, he probably has no knowledge about the ‘dumree’ or about the phrase’s Indian connection.
Old Blighty! It was also a term for 'England' or 'Great Britain' to which every British soldier longed to go back to. And it is a pure Indian word.
A ‘wilaa-yati’ or ‘bilaa-yati’ in Hindi, Urdu and Bengali means ‘a foreigner’. When Indian soldiers of the First World War referred to their British counterparts in this way, the Britons found it a ‘cushy’ term to use.
These words, in Ray Bradbury’s classic Fahrenheit 451 which I am reading, made me think of how Indian words have been embellishing the English language.
‘Juggernaut’ and ‘wheels’ are often used together to define an overwhelming force of circumstances from which one simply cannot escape.
With its origins in Shree Jagannath Temple at Puri, in India’s east coast state of Odisha, and in its thousand-year-old annual Hindu chariot-festival, the term ‘juggernaut wheels’ has achieved immense literary significance.
It is an allegorical reference to gigantic temple chariots, reputed to crush devotees under large powerful wheels. Once the ratha-yathra (chariot-journey) starts, there is no stopping it. Even if crowds of devotees thronged its path, and came in its way.
The exaggerated accounts of deaths of devotees under Jagannath’s wheels, and the apocryphal stories of pilgrims in devotional ecstasy throwing themselves into its path, to achieve moksha (salvation), gave rise to the term ‘juggernaut wheels’.
In this 1953 dystopian novel of Ray Bradbury, I could feel the protagonist Guy Montague’s emotions as he runs wild, as a fugitive, chased by sophisticated government machinery, both political and technological, unable to escape being crushed under the weighty wheels of inexorable circumstances.
On investigation, I found out that Charles Dickens had used the term ‘juggernaut’, much earlier, in ‘The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit’ published in 1844.
And so did Robert Louis Stevenson in ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’. And even H G Wells, and H W Longfellow.
 |
| From Shashi Tharoor's book 'Why I am a Hindu' published in 2017 |
In 2015, Shashi Tharoor the Indian politician had said in a debate at Oxford University that, during their rule of India, the British had looted many things, including the word ‘loot’.
And he is right. Hindi words like ‘loot, jungle, bazaar, bungalow, Tiffin, verandah, shampoo, chutney and gym’ are all commonplace in English now.
For etymology lovers, here’s another interesting piece of information I found on a BBC website about ‘Hobson-Jobson’, a dictionary compiled by Colonel Henry Yule and AC Burnell.
The dictionary’s subtitle is: "A glossary of colloquial Anglo-Indian words and phrases, and of kindred terms etymological, historical, geographical and discursive”.
In their work, which consists of over 2000 Anglo-Indian entries, the authors write about a copper coin. In ancient India, the coin was called a ‘dumree’. And it was common, long before British Raj time, for people in India to say: 'No, I won't give a dumree!', referring to something of insignificant value.
On English tongues, apparently, ‘damree’ became ‘dam’, and was soon spelt as an already existing English word ‘damn’!
‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’. When Rhett Butler says this to Scarlett O'Hara, in the movie ‘Gone with the wind’, he probably has no knowledge about the ‘dumree’ or about the phrase’s Indian connection.
Old Blighty! It was also a term for 'England' or 'Great Britain' to which every British soldier longed to go back to. And it is a pure Indian word.
A ‘wilaa-yati’ or ‘bilaa-yati’ in Hindi, Urdu and Bengali means ‘a foreigner’. When Indian soldiers of the First World War referred to their British counterparts in this way, the Britons found it a ‘cushy’ term to use.
Yes. ‘cushy’ too, is derived from the Hindi word ‘kushi’ for happiness.
Pyjamas, dungarees, and bandanas in clothing; thugs, dacoits and loots in crime; curry, tandoori and chutney in food; avatar, karma and nirvana in religion; pundit, guru and mantra in education…
There is no stopping the juggernaut wheels of Indian words romping onto the English language. After all, in 2017 alone, Oxford Dictionary has added 900 new words, and 70 of them were Indian.
------------------------------------------------------
PS: In 2009, Ray Bradbury had written a short story with the title itself as 'Juggernaut' - for Saturday Evening Post. You can read it by following links by clicking here.
For the published article pdf file, click here
Pyjamas, dungarees, and bandanas in clothing; thugs, dacoits and loots in crime; curry, tandoori and chutney in food; avatar, karma and nirvana in religion; pundit, guru and mantra in education…
There is no stopping the juggernaut wheels of Indian words romping onto the English language. After all, in 2017 alone, Oxford Dictionary has added 900 new words, and 70 of them were Indian.
------------------------------------------------------
PS: In 2009, Ray Bradbury had written a short story with the title itself as 'Juggernaut' - for Saturday Evening Post. You can read it by following links by clicking here.
For the published article pdf file, click here
