The dictionary of Sri Lankan English is proving to be an entertaining read so far. Since my move to Delhi, I’ve noticed that there are certain words in my vocabulary which puzzle my friends. I once sent a text to The Dancer and she called me in a few minutes, slightly perplexed – “Err. I got your message but I have no idea what you just said”. I went through the message and realized that the inclusion of ‘men’ tagged at the end of my text had left her confused. Tagging ‘men’ at the end of sentences (in retrospect it’s a very ‘aunty’ thing to do – how are you, men? Yeah, men etc) was something that I’d grown up hearing and had imbibed into my vocabulary without a second thought. I’ve had to take two steps back and analyse elements of my vocabulary and certain figures of speech, ever since I moved here.
While reading, I recognized phrases that I hear from friends, family, old colleagues and which I sometimes use (damn sin, hi-bye friend) and it was interesting to note certain colloquial terms which I’d actually taken for granted as a part of British English. Our Sri Lankan English is this wonderful pickle of Burgher, Tamil, Sinhalese and Muslim sub-varieties, interspersed with a handful of Indian words, spectacular disregard for tenses and a cheerful appropriation of British English. The recent surge in Sri Lankan youtube videos like this take advantage of these idiosyncrasies and are usually exaggerated versions of SLE.
Here are a few which I’d marked while browsing the dictionary.
Aeli maeli; Ambarenafy; Am I right?; And all; And go; Back side; Bada pissa; Bakala; Still batting; bayagulla; Big big; Bioscope; Body parts; Boru shok; Bugger (coll), chandiya, Come or go, Chicago; cool spot; cracked; cussed (apparently less common in British English);
Damn shame; damn sin; damn wild; damn cheek; not a dog; dot-dot; expensive (aloof, standoffish); fine (maara); gal (stern, hostile); geetic (flashy, tastless); giddify; glass maker’s daughter (someone who stands in front of you and blocks your view); gobbaya; gonbaas; good name; hi-bye friend; how if..; kichbichify; komala; kunju; kusukusufy;
Land side; last minute case; latapata; machang; maini; maru; Who and who; what and what; in vain; too much; small small; a rastiadu case, patta, patas!,
Admittedly, I groan every time I hear someone say something like “Oh, it’s in the backside” but I’ve always found the doubling of words (small small, dot dot, big big) and signboards advertising ‘body parts’ amusing. I also noticed certain words which have been dropped along the way but which you’re likely to hear the older generation use. My grandmother, for instance, refers to stoles as ‘mufflers’ and watches as ‘wristlets’ – something you’re not likely to hear too often these days. I suddenly started reminiscing about the school-slang that we picked up during our early teens. No one spoke Sinhala in my household and I went through a phase where I would use words like ‘kindy’ (you can’t see me, but I’m cringing as I type this. I haven’t heard anyone use this word in years), ‘ela’ and ‘goday’ (another cringe) to the amusement of my parents.
I now know the difference between ‘machchan’ and ‘machang’ and was delighted that ‘love cake’ had earned itself an entry in the dictionary. On a completely unrelated note, I think love cake is one of Sri Lanka’s best kept secrets. None of my Indian friends had heard of it before and are now staunch fans. I’m currently on a one woman mission to force feed love cake to everyone who hasn’t had it. Please join me in this worthy cause. The world needs more love cake.
There were also words I hadn’t come across before. Never knew that ‘the Boys’ referred to members of the LTTE or that the ragging ritual I’d heard my mum talk of was called ‘bucketing’. Also, ‘box along’ (carry on), ‘cockered’ (drunk); ‘cowcatcher’, ‘double orphan’, ‘forward Peter’ (a cheeky person), ‘hot drinks’ (alcoholic), kadavule, kuppi class and funk stick (such a fantastic word. Must use it more often) among others.
Indian English is replete with its own variations. I’ve heard ‘healthy’ being used as a (rather politically correct but deceiving) synonym for ‘fat’ – Ex: My brother is a very healthy person. A ‘bath’ refers to what we Sri Lankans would call a ‘bodywash’ and ‘trishaw’ is ‘auto rickshaw’. Sentences are sometimes prefixed with a ‘Tell me one thing’ or ‘Do one thing’ and the phrases ‘what all’ and ‘who all’ are the Indian answers to the Sri Lankan ‘what and what’ and ‘who and who’. There’s an overuse of words like ‘actually’, ‘only’, ‘also’ and ‘obviously’ and I first heard words such as ‘prepone’ and timepass only after I moved here. It doesn’t fall into the label of Indian English but I do love the Indian ‘Uff’ – it stops short at being a swear word and it’s nicer than the ‘Arey yaaar’. I also heard someone being described as a ‘cutlet’ and have been dying to call someone that now.
I liked that there was effort made to explain the deviations from British English and the inclusion of illustrations here and there in the dictionary. The boundaries between Sri Lankan English and Sinhala and Tamil words are a bit blurred (a point which Meyler has addressed in the introduction) and the examples from Sri Lankan books could have been reduced a little, but that’s just me nit-picking. The dictionary itself is considerably comprehensive – props to Michael Meyler and the editors. It’s been around for a while and I’m picking it up 5 years too late but do put a look (do you see what I did there?) if you’re interested in this sort of thing. Here are some links as well, because I’m generous like that.
- Michael Meyler has a site with more information and updates – http://www.mirisgala.net/
- http://samosapedia.com/ is a hilarious and unofficial source for South Asian (although mostly Indian) lingo
- A few more examples of the language variations are available here and here.
One of my most treasured possessions is a copy of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales. While growing up, Andersen’s stories unnerved me. Very few of them had positive closure and at times highly ambiguous (Ugly Duckling, anyone?) and for a little girl who liked utopian, apple-pie endings where everyone lived happily ever after, Andersen’s stories usually left me sad. The Little Mermaid dies, the girl with the red shoes dies, the matchstick girl dies, the fir tree dies, the emperor in the Emperor and Nightingale, also dies – do you see where I’m going here?
But then I received a beautifully illustrated copy of Andersen’s stories from my mum’s friend which slightly altered my attitude to Andersen. It was the books I read as a kid which paved my gradual interest in art and soon I started taking note of various illustrators as well.
I know most people agree that Quentin Blake and Roald Dahl were the quintessential writer-illustrator duo but I could never reconcile myself to Blake’s scrawls and always felt that it detracted from Dahl’s genius instead of complementing it. I’m aware that I’m a minority here because Blake has been hailed as one of England’s foremost illustrators and the Dahl-Blake combo has been described as a perfect example of author-artist chemistry. But I always felt disappointed to see my favourite characters reduced to almost careless squiggles, with large dots for eyes and overlarge hands. I get the feeling that Blake was trying to balance a fine line between both caricatures and sketches but it never worked for me.
Two double acts I really enjoyed were Jacqueline Wilson-Nick Sharratt and C.S. Lewis-Pauline Baynes.
Wilson was a staple in my adolescent reading and Sharratt’s simple line drawings went just right with Wilson’s writing which was catered mainly to girls aged 11 – 16. Obviously, I went through a Sharratt phase where I tried (unsuccessfully) to model my drawings according to his. Sharratt had an excellent eye for just the right amount of detail – a print on a dress, an extra fluff on a cloud, markings on leaves – which I really liked.
Bayne’s simple sketches brought to life characters I’d never even heard of before. Detailed illustrations of battles, Mr. Tumnus, Aslan and the Pevensies were beautifully bought to life – but done in a way which didn’t impinge on the reader’s imagination and their own versions of the scenes and the characters. I loved the Narnia Maps and later read that Pauline occasionally illustrated for Tolkien as well. The Telegraph has an obituary on her, I think she sounds fascinating.
But, my (insert superlative of choice) favourite was my Hans Christian Andersen book. The book is filled with beautifully intricate, whimsical, old school illustrations which you’d be hard pressed to find amidst the sea of mediocre illustrated children’s books these days which look positively kitsch in comparison. Janet and Anne Grahame Johnstone (they were an illustrating duo) and the author were centuries apart but the obvious chemistry between the artists and Andersen’s stories pervades the book. I think the illustration eclipsed the stories at times, because I would pore over the drawings and make my own stories with spectacular disregard for authorial intent. The pictures really don’t do justice to the drawings. I would love to get my hands on a copy of their illustrations of the Grimms Fairytales – the Grimms Brothers are dearer to me and this combination would have been electric.
Despite my fondness for illustrated books, I’ve never actually warmed to comics and graphic novels. The lines between comic s and graphic novels have always been slightly blurred for me. I grew up on a steady diet of Garfield, TinTin, Asterix and Calvin and Hobbes but my die-hard graphic novel fan-friends scoff at me and tell me that these don’t count/aren’t enough. From what I see, the crux of graphic novels are basically comics – But with fancier packaging, marginally deeper story lines and a lot heavier on the purse. Yes? No?
I remember my dad presenting me with comic versions of Oliver Twist and Kidnapped years back. I looked at the too-bright colours of the comic strips, the dialogue watered down to a handful of words peppered with exclamation marks with all my 13 year old contempt, wondering sadly when words ceased to be enough.
I like art and I like reading but I’ve always felt that graphic novels tended to compromise on the literature aspect instead of synthesising words and art. When classics are condensed into 50 page graphic novels, the nuances in the language and the detail are also watered down. I haven’t written away the genre completely though, so there might be hope for me yet.
This started off as an elegy to my beautiful Andersen book and to Janet and Anne Grahame Johnstone but as you can see, I got a little carried away. Chemistry between an author and an illustrator is a beautiful thing. Do add in your favourite author-artist combos if you have any. If you’d like to browse more book illustrations, this site has some nice stuff http://www.booksillustrated.com/
When I pick up a book, one of the first things I instinctively do is glance at the dedication. I blame CS Lewis for this. I picked up ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe’ as a kid and remember being bowled over by his dedication to his granddaughter. Ever since, I’ve been fascinated by the idea of having a piece of literature dedicated to someone. It’s also intriguing trying to disseminate the relationship between the author and the person their oeuvre is dedicated to – at times it’s public (For X, my loving wife and rock solid pillar etc etc) and at times, i’ts fantastically cryptic (A few initials, a private message, an inside joke)
10 points to Hufflepuff if you can guess which books/authors these are from. 50 points if you write a book and dedicate it to me (My nine year old self would be over the moon)