如何应对别人的批评 - BBC伊丽莎白·迦罗娜(Elizabeth Garone)(2023年7月2日)
泰晤士河沿岸不时可见的露台，veranda，也是很久以前的“舶来品”。
它们就这么存在着，往往并不引人注意。这些词汇已经成为英语中的日常用语，比如战利品（Loot）、涅槃（nirvana）、宽长裤（pyjamas）、洗发水（shampoo）和披肩（shawl）；平房（bungalow）、丛林（jungle）、 权威（pundit）和暴徒（thug）。
上面这些印度语中的词语来自何方，又是如何流传的呢？它们是在何时、以何种方式被流传开来的？又是如何成为英语词语而被收录在《牛津英语词典》中的呢？这种变化反映了英国和印度之间怎样的关系呢？
早在英国统治时期之前（在东印度公司于 1615 年获得印度次大陆第一块领地之前），印地语、乌尔都语、马拉雅拉姆语和泰米尔语等南亚语言就已逐步在各种外语中渗透。有一本重要著作记录了英语-印度语口语中的单词和短语的词源。这部由两位印度语言爱好者亨利·尤尔（Henry Yule）和亚瑟· C ·布尼尔（Arthur C Burnell）合著的著作名为：《霍布森-乔布森英属印度词典》（Hobson-Jobson: The Definitive Glossary of British India），于 1886 年出版。
该词典的现代版平装本刚刚出版，其编辑对英国统治时期之前的许多单词做出说明。凯特·泰尔彻（Kate Teltscher）表示：“生姜（Ginger）, 胡椒（pepper）和靛蓝（indigo）等词汇从古代的通道进入英语：它们反映了早期希腊和罗马与印度的贸易，通过希腊语和拉丁语进入英语。 ”
“‘生姜（Ginger）’一词来自印度喀拉拉邦的马拉雅拉姆语，从希腊语和拉丁语流传进入古代法语和古代英语。15 世纪，生姜被传入加勒比海地区和非洲种植，于是，‘生姜（Ginger）’作为一个词语、一种作物和一种调味品，在世界各地得以传播。”
全球贸易伴随着欧洲征服东印度群岛而扩张，印度语言也随之大量进入英语。许多词汇来自葡萄牙语。泰尔彻表示：“葡萄牙人征服印度果阿邦还要追溯到 16 世纪，当时，芒果（mango）和咖喱（curry）通过葡萄牙语进入英语，马拉雅拉姆语和泰米尔语中，芒果是‘mangai’，进入葡萄牙语变成‘manga’，到英语中以‘o’结尾，变成了‘mango’ 。”
她强调，南亚语言进入英语不只是简单的东西文化交汇。我一直以为“ayah”一词是指印度保姆，或者家政帮佣，今天我在新德里的大家庭就这么用。她说，“‘ayah’最初是葡萄牙语的一个词，意思是家庭女教师或者护士，它在印度被葡萄牙人用来指称保姆，后来又被印度语所吸收，随后进入英语。”
《霍布森-乔布森英属印度词典》描述了“辣椒（chilli）”一词非同寻常的演变历程，词典中的记录是“红辣椒的英-印语常用名称”。词典作者亨利和亚瑟认为：“这个名称无疑是来自南美洲的智利，红辣椒这种作物就是被人从智利带到印度洋的群岛，又从那里进入印度。”
演变历程与好恶
印地语、乌尔都语、马拉雅拉姆语、葡萄牙语和英语等语言在 16 世纪和 17 世纪被传遍全球，这也反映了语言文化随时间的演变和重塑以及人们对自身周围环境的适应。
有三个词清楚展示了这一点：披肩（shawl）、开士米羊绒（cashmere）和天竺薄荷（patchouli）。这三个词都从印度流传出去，在 18 世纪成为英语单词。
“提到开士米羊绒（cashmere），我们会将其与羊毛联系起来，它源自‘Kashmir（喀什米尔）’一词，是喀什米尔山羊所产的羊毛。”凯特·泰尔彻博士解释说，“开士米羊绒（cashmere）与披肩（shawl）这个词关系密切，后者源自波斯语，通过乌尔都语和印地语流传进入印度，随后又进入英语。”
披肩（shawl）一度是英国上流社会女性酷爱的奢侈品。
“‘披肩（shawl）’这个词在 18 世界和 19 世纪进入英语，因为它是上流社会女性梦寐以求的奢侈品，如果某女性有个弟兄在东印度公司工作，她就会希望他能为自己带回一条美丽的绣花披肩。”她继续解释，“‘天竺薄荷（patchouli）’与‘披肩（shawl）’有关是因为前者被用来阻止飞蛾，其浓烈的香气在英国流行一时。”
但天竺薄荷很快又失宠了。她说：“19 世纪，随着时间的推移，天竺薄荷被人们与颓废堕落的法国女性和妓女联系起来。因而它被踢出了专宠范围，随后，在 1960 年代，它又被人们与嬉皮士运动联系起来。”
适宜的气候
出生于伦敦、居住在布里斯托的尼科什·舒克拉（Nikesh Shukla）认为，印度对日常英语的重大影响反映了印度与大英帝国的相互依存关系。
舒克拉的最新小说《物质世界》（Meatspace）针对社交媒体和智能手机进行了探讨。他相信，大英帝国对英语的重塑与当今科技的作用同出一辙。舒克拉认为，“一方面，一些印度词语对英语造成破坏，因为它们原本在英语中并不存在，如‘阳台（veranda）’一词。英国气候寒冷，房屋不会设阳台，人们也不需要‘宽长裤 （pyjamas）’ — 一种宽松的棉质裤子，但在气候炎热的地方，它们却非常适合。”
舒克拉表示：“今天，像无线网络（wifi）、互联网（internet）、谷歌（ Google）、电子邮件（email）和自拍（selfie）之类词语已经普及，并没有其他词语能取代它们的存在，因此，它们也进入英语以及世界各地的其他语言之中。 社交媒体也改变了我们的谈话方式，‘赞（like)’、‘关注（following）’和‘大笑（lol）’这些都是英语中的新词，它们都是新科技造就的，但我对于大英帝国受到众多文化和语言的‘破坏’感到由衷的高兴。”
印度对英语的影响反映了语言的不断流传，也彰显了前殖民地对现代社会的形成发挥的重要作用。凯特表示，“词语的演变如此神奇，它以出乎意料的节奏和途径传播，而彼此之间还有着异乎寻常、不可思议的联系。”
（责编：郱书）
How India changed the English language - By Rahul Verma
They are in there, often unnoticed. The words that have become part of everyday English. Loot, nirvana, pyjamas, shampoo and shawl; bungalow, jungle, pundit and thug.
What are the roots, and routes, of these Indian words? How and when did they travel and what do their journeys into British vernacular – and then the Oxford English Dictionary – tell us about the relationship between Britain and India?
Long before the British Raj – before the East India Company acquired its first territory in the Indian subcontinent in 1615 – South Asian words from languages such as Hindi, Urdu, Malayalam and Tamil had crept onto foreign tongues. One landmark book records the etymology of colloquial Anglo-Indian words and phrases. Compiled by two India enthusiasts, Henry Yule and Arthur C Burnell, Hobson-Jobson: The Definitive Glossary of British India was published in 1886. The poet Daljit Nagra described it as “not so much an orderly dictionary as a passionate memoir of colonial India. Rather like an eccentric Englishman in glossary form.”
The editor of its contemporary edition – which has just been published in paperback – explains how many of the words pre-date British rule. “Ginger, pepper and indigo entered English via ancient routes: they reflect the early Greek and Roman trade with India and come through Greek and Latin into English,” says Kate Teltscher.
“Ginger comes from Malayalam in Kerala, travels through Greek and Latin into Old French and Old English, and then the word and plant become a global commodity. In the 15th Century, it’s introduced into the Caribbean and Africa and it grows, so the word, the plant and the spice spread across the world.”
As global trade expanded through European conquests of the East Indies, the flow of Indian words into English gathered momentum. Many came via Portuguese. “The Portuguese conquest of Goa dates back to the 16th Century, and mango, and curry, both come to us via Portuguese – mango began as ‘mangai’ in Malayalam and Tamil, entered Portuguese as ‘manga’ and then English with an ‘o’ ending,” she says.
But the movement of South Asian words into English did not always follow a simple East to West trajectory, as Teltscher highlights with ‘ayah’, a word I’ve always understood to be an Indian nanny, or domestic help – how my extended family in New Delhi use it today. “Ayah is originally a Portuguese word, which means governess or nurse, and it’s used in this way by the Portuguese in India and is absorbed into Indian languages, and then via India comes into English.”
The Hobson-Jobson glossary describes an unusual journey for the word ‘chilli’, recorded as “the popular Anglo-Indian name of the pod of red pepper”. According to Yule and Burnell: “There is little doubt that the name was taken from Chile in South America, whence the plant was carried to the Indian archipelago and thence to India.”
Scents and sensibilities
Hindi, Urdu, Tamil, Malayalam, Portuguese and English words pinballed around the globe in the 16th and 17th Centuries, revealing how languages evolve over time as culture is made and remade, and people adapt to conditions around them. This is neatly illustrated by three words – shawl, cashmere and patchouli – that travel hand-in-hand from India into 18th-Century English.
“Cashmere is what we associate with wool and its origins are in Kashmir and the wool produced by Kashmir goats. It was closely associated with shawl, a word which originates in Persian, and travels into India via Urdu and Hindi and then enters English,” explains Teltscher.
“Shawl enters English in the 18th and 19th Century because it becomes a desirable luxury garment for women in high society – if you had a brother working for the East India Company, you would want him to send you a beautifully embroidered shawl. Patchouli is linked to shawls because the perfume was used to deter moths while shawls were being transported and as a result this heady, heavy perfume became popular in Britain,” she continues.
But patchouli soon lost its aspirational edge. “As the 19th Century moves on, patchouli becomes associated with racy, decadent French women and prostitutes. So patchouli goes from something royalty might wear into being beyond the pale, and then in the 1960s it becomes associated with the hippie movement,” says Teltscher.
The right climate
London-born, Bristol-based author Nikesh Shukla feels India’s significant contribution to everyday English reflects the symbiotic nature of Empire. “It was inevitable with colonialism that Britain would imbibe the local culture and it would have a lasting effect because colonialism flows two ways. Look at the things in British culture that have come from the Commonwealth that Britain calls its own like tea, and language is part of that too,” he says.
Shukla, whose recent novel Meatspace explores social media and smart-phones, believes that empire reshaped the English language in the same way as technology is now. “One way of looking at it is these Indian words disrupted the English language because they just didn’t exist in English – for example veranda. The climate’s cold here so you wouldn’t have a veranda, or pyjamas – loose fitting cotton trousers, which again are perfect for a hot climate,” he says.
“Today, words such as wifi, internet, Google, email and selfie have become universal, there aren’t other words for them, so they have infiltrated English and languages all over the world. Social media has also changed the way we talk, the meaning of a word such as ‘like’ has completely shifted, also ‘following’, or ‘lol’ – the new disrupter of the English language is technology, but I love how empire was a major disrupt to English through exposing Britain to so many cultures and languages,” he continues.
Shukla’s favourite Indian-English word – Blighty – shows how language is constantly evolving. “It’s usually used by expat Brits referring to Britain and the homeland as in ‘Good ol’ Blighty’ but it comes from the Urdu word for foreigner or European, ‘vilayati’. So it’s been subverted and used as a homage by the British and eventually has become part of the English language,” he says.
India’s influence on English points towards how language is perpetually in motion, and highlights the importance of former colonies in the making of the modern world. “It’s so fascinating to look at words,” says Teltscher. “It opens up these unexpected rhythms and paths of travel, and extraordinary, unlikely connections.”