Survival Phrases in Nagamese: the Lingua Franca of Nagaland

Nagaland in the north eastern frontiers of India is a linguist’s paradise where not less than 23 different indigenous languages are spoken in full vigor. Though English is the official language in Nagaland, It is Nagamese (a pidgin/creole arising out of Assamese, Hindi, English and various Naga languages) which rules the roost across the state. Though the origin of Nagamese is unknown, it is evident from the accounts of Lt. Bigges (Tour Diary 1841) that this pidgin was in vogue before the British soldiers set their feet in the Naga Hills. The earliest record of Nagamese is found in Hutton (1921) with a few lexical items and phrases in the pidgin. Hutton (1921) says

‘the Assamese as spoken in the Naga Hills is peculiarly well adapted for the reproduction of Naga idioms as a vehicle of interpretation. It makes a better lingua franca for the Hills than Hindustani or English would, the substitution of which for Assamese has been occasionally suggested.’

Hutton is referring to Nagamese when he is writing of Assamese of Naga Hills. Similarly Haimendorf (Von Furer Haimendorf, The Naked Nagas, 1939, London) writes

‘Fortunately many people including children spoke fluently Nagamese, the lingua franca of entire Naga Hills’.

The spread of Nagamese according to Sreedhar (M.V. Shreedhar, 1985, Standardized Grammar of Naga Pidgin, Mysore) is due to several factors. He cites the construction of roads, penetration of Marwari traders in far flung areas, and various state and central agencies bringing Non-Nagas in Nagaland as the primary reason for the spread of Nagamese. It is absolutely clear that neither colonization nor subjugation was responsible for the birth of Nagamese.

Today Nagamese is used for diverse inter-lingual communication situations such as Schools, markets, hospitals, legislative assembly, and even in churches. Moreover the emergence of a unified Naga identity irrespective of tribal affiliations has led to situations where it has acquired the role of a mother tongue for the children born out of wedlock of people from two different communities. Nagamese is increasingly used in informal conversation though formal discourse is still done in English or any other indigenous language. Youth use it profusely among themselves on the streets of Kohima, Dimapur, Mokukchung and outside Nagaland etc.

Knowing a little of Nagamese in Nagaland comes handy when one decides to visit this beautiful state in the Far East. Nagamese is like a song you would like to sing time and again.

Here are some SURVIVAL PHRASES in Nagamese based on Dr. N. Khashito Aye’s book titled Nagamese: the Lingua Franca of Nagaland, 2007 (published by Christian Education Ministry, Sugar Mill, 5^th Mile, Dimapur- 7977112, Nagaland).

SURVIVAL PHRASES in NAGAMESE

English	Nagamese	Hindi
Please come in	aahibi	आईए।
Please sit down	bohibi	बैठिए।
Where do you live?	aapuni kot thaake?	आप कहाँ रहते/रहती हैं?
My house is in Agra	mor laagaa ghar Agrate aase	मेरा घर आगरा में है।
What is your name?	aapuni laagaa naam ki aase?	आपका क्या नाम है?
My name is Prakash	mor laaga naam prakaash aase	मेरा नाम प्रकाश है।
How are you?	kenekaa aase?	आप कैसे हैं?
I am alright	Bhaal hi aase	मैं ठीक हूँ।
What happened?	ki hoise?	क्या हुआ?
What is the price of this?	itu kiman dam ase?	इसका दाम क्या है?
lower down the price	olop kom koribi	कुछ कम कीजिए।
That will do	hoise	हाँ यह ठीक है।
I don’t want	amaake naalaage	मुझे नहीं चाहिए।
At what time you will come?	aapuni kimaan baajite aahibo?	आप कितने बजे आएंगे।
I will come tomorrow at 8 o’clock	aami kaali aat bajite aahibo	मैं कल आठ बजे आउंगा।
Please drive the car	gaari chalaabi	गाड़ी चलाईए।
Drive slowly	aaste chalaabi	धीरे चलाईए।
Stop	rukhibi	रोकिए।
Turn it	ghuraabi	घुमाईए।
To the left	left phaale	बाईं ओर।
To the right	right phaale	दाईं ओर।
This way	itu phaale	इस तरफ।
That way	hitu phaale	उस तरफ।
Which way?	kun phaale?	किस तरफ?
Go straight	sida jabi	सीधा जाईए।
Do you like it?	aapuni itu bhal laage?	क्या यह आपको पसंद है?
Where are you going?	aapuni kot jabo?	आप कहाँ जा रहे/रही हैं?
I am going to market	moi market jai aase	मैं बाज़ार जा रहा हूँ।
Where has he gone?	taar kot jaise?	वह कहाँ गए/गई हैं?
I will come tomorrow	aami kali aahibo	मैं कल आउंगा।
Vitsaho and kitoka have come	vitshao aaru kitoka aahise	वित्साहो और कितोका आए हैं।

And I end this piece with a Nagamese Love song by Kevilinuo Vizo:

Moi laagaa darling

Moi laagaa darling bishi sunder,

Tai laagaa bosti moi najaane,

Beraai beraai kenaa thing bekhaaise

Biyanpabi salam di aase

Ek din noholie, dui din noholie

Love kuribo etu time te koi dibo de,

Eki logote rastaa rastaa beraabo,

Itu din rukhi aase darling.

Post photo courtesy: http://miyzone.blogspot.com/2007/08/different-houses-nagaland-heritage.html

Walking on a thin layer of Ice: In the Midst of a Boat Ride

If we consider life as a journey, then it is better that we travel alone. Actually not alone in the way we conceive aloneness, but in a rather different way. This solitude is accompanied by longing, melody and the desire to be together again. All set to bring communion of the pain of separation and the joys of being together. And I must say this is a greater pleasure than any of the two. One should not travel alone to be alone in the end but to break the solitude which in turn will be rejuvenated on its own.

Now we come back to my farewell days in JNU (Jawaharlal Nehru University) before I took that mesmerizing ride to Kadamtala in Andaman Islands. We say memories fade, but I would say they take a backseat looking at you from behind. Watching you all your life. You cannot see them but they are always looking at you from your back. If you want to see them, you will have to face them.

And when I look back I see myself sitting on a concrete slab smoking cigarette with tea which is neither tea nor hot water or both, and talking some nonsense to an equally endowed lady in wee hours. Smoking is best done in company of a close friend (preferably woman) who ideally should be a smoker. Then you don’t give a damn what others are doing around you, and you think only about three objects- the burning cigarette in your hand, the woman beside you and the all the rational-irrational nonsense in air. I must admit that women are the best listeners. Compared to men they have more patience for listening and only after listening to your view, they would bring forward their own. You can blame it on their subversion by men but I am well aware that they are equally ferocious if they are fooled around much.

And I think of how every morning after getting up I used to go straight to the balcony at the back of my hostel Room and stare at the green tress and the vast sky outside. I used to feel so good by beholding nature. There are some numbers which remain stuck in our memory forever. For me they are 4, 219, 102 and 230. Now I’m not going to write about them here as they have their own stories stringed to them.

Have you ever enjoyed the rains in the open by walking on the lonely roads? This is a pleasure you can seek only when you are free from the worldly woes that cling to us all the time. Have you ever thought that you can become an alarm clock for somebody? I believe this is called humanness. Doing things without thinking of any gains is purely human and we do it often.

There is something in JNU which makes it a real utopian territory. A place where you live away from the harsh realities of the world, enjoying the sweet nectar of life and thinking in a very bookish sense of life. But I also know it makes a very different individual inside you: a brick meant for making a house which stands only in dreams. An individual with above average sensibilities and concern for the preciousness of human life is born in almost every one who is touched by the life in JNU. This is place where a student can talk to all the big shots without bowing in front of them. This is also a place where young Indians jostle together whether they come from Bihar, Tamilnadu, Nagaland or Maharashtra. Life is a celebration for many us who have lived there because here you celebrate its dark side too. The unreality of the reality.

When I remember the winters, I wonder why the jackets turn into branches surrounded by the fog. You have to come back from a long walk in the wee hours after graveyard shifts to see this happening when you can walk only by holding hands. Winter is not always the time when nature goes into hibernation but it is also the time when tears are frozen and every thought just fogs. When you want to cry but you cannot. Winters have also been the beginning of new life for me. A time for unfolding of a new story. That is why I have started enjoying winters more now.

Coming back to the boat ride to Kadamatala. It was a usual hot and sunny day of February 2006 in Andamans when one of my university senior who came to Strait Island on an engine propelled dinghy boat to see us. When I was offered the ride to kadamtala, I could not resist it. We were going to visit the abode of Jarawas (one of the last survivors of Pre-Neolithic people on earth) at Kadamtala area in Middle Andamans. I had met Jarawas but only at District Hospital in Port Blair and not in their natural habitation. Our boat was small enough to accommodate just 5-6 people and thus could not brave the open sea. So we stick to the passage by sea shore inundated by mangroves. Sometimes we crossed between two mangroves separated like lost brothers. I was trying to touch the sea water when the boatman told me to stop doing it as the waters were infested by crocodiles.

After a 3 hours boat ride we finally reached Uttara jetty where I first saw some Jarawas standing at the embankment. We proceeded to Kadamtala village (a village of Bengali settlers) where I was introduced to a lean and thin Bengali guy who will take me to a very different world later. Next morning I was riding a Jeep which left us in the outskirts of the village. At the roadside we waited for another guy who was going to bring some medicine for the Jarawas. After waiting an hour or so, he finally arrived and after getting the medicines from him we embarked on a very special journey. We took a dust beaten path going inside the forest. The trees were becoming thicker and bolder as we were walking inside the forest. We came across two makeshift bridges made of fallen tree trunks spread over big ditches on which only an expert gymnast can walk. I managed somehow. I also noticed some human voices shouting nearby together with some small clear grounds on which some big leaves were spread. I was told that Jarawas use these clear areas to relax while hunting. After taking many turns and curves, I started feeling that we are reaching the habitation as I could see the sky more clearly now through the foliage.

But the destination was not that near. Finally after walking another half an hour we reached the Jarawa village. I could see some children and some women sitting under huts. My companion told me that most of them have gone for gathering (it was a honey season) and they will be coming back shortly. I was standing mesmerized by looking at the unique world looking back at me. One of the children asked about me from my guide. My Bengali friend told them that I have come from a very far place riding an airplane which they still see in awe. I was feeling thirsty so I took out the bottle of water from my bag. I took a sip. Soon all the women and children wanted sips from the bottle as if it is an elixir. Later more people returning from hunting and gathering expedition joined us. I was introduced to a man with marvelous physique. I was told that he was above 60 years in age. Here I and my Bengali friend were the only wearing clothes and representing the new civilization. I was living the past which our forefathers must have lived once. The charm of the grand old world was putting me in a transcendental world.

I told them in my half cooked Andamani Hindi and gestures that I met the Jarawa mother at Port Blair hospital whose 6 months old baby was injured by a bamboo stick at Port Blair hospital. They quickly recognized her and informed me that she belonged to a different Jarawa village. One child was touching my body to confirm my gender as he could not see what I could see clearly. He was new to our civilization. Though I was living with another group of indigenous and older group of Andamanese people (Great Andamanese), but I have seen them in a government sponsored model village (Strait Village) where there were concrete houses, electricity and indigenous people who depended on government doles for their day to day survival. On the contrary here I was standing in the midst of the last remains of Andamanese culture and society.

My Bengali friend gave some of them the medicines he brought along. They liked the way he applied some antiseptic lotion to their injuries and bandaged them. Medicine brought two warring civilization together. Jarawas who were hostile to all intruders in their territory till 1992, made peace only when the magic wand of modern medicine touched their lives. Time was running fast and we had to return to kadamtala village also. So we bid goodbye to the Jarawas and started the return trail. While coming back I was thinking as if I was sitting in a time-machine set to throw me back to the world I belonged.

To be continued.

Into Nagaland- Part I

When I started thinking of visiting Nagaland, I was having a bagful of emotions. Firstly I was quite excited to go and meet my fascination (or shall I say my love for things others don’t really venture into). Secondly, I was also somehow sceptical and anxious about the place and people. It was not as if it were my first trip to north eastern part of India. I had been to Meghalaya twice where I first fell in love with pig meat (actually the white juicy part on top of it!). But those visits were in a secure company of fellow travellers and anyways we did not venture much deep in Meghalaya. But this time I was going alone and that too into well dreaded Nagaland.

 From my amorous student days in the university, I had always seen Nagas with a bit of awe mixed with the feelings of suspicion. But things changed once I started working and living at my new workplace at Agra. Here I saw Nagas from my own eyes and skin. Lot of my misconceptions dissolved and I found myself quite fascinated by their way of living. Actually those guys were exactly doing the same things I always tried to live on i.e. to live life away from the general crowd. They taught me that you don’t have to be educated in San Francisco to listen Rock music. You can just sing and play it if you desire so. Those innocent fun loving guys showed me the brighter side of Nagaland. It’s hard to befriend them but you will cherish the time once they let you share their unique world. I remember one of them commenting to me that I was so much like them…the way I sing with a much weird high pitch, the way I cannot escape company of women for long, my guitar and drums love affair (though I can’t play either of them, thanks to my late arrival in this music scene), my carelessness and above all the desire to be different or unique or weird.

I was born in a quite a traditional family, going by the present trend. I was doing things none dared did in my family. I ate, drank and lived much like a Lennon fanatic (minus drugs and of course America).I grew in the university on a high dose of Rock plentifully supplied by AIR FM’s Wicked Hour program plus nicotine blues. I never knew this can be a way of life in Agra till I met the Nagas. So enjoyed every bit of their new found company. Coming back to the journey, I decided finally to embark on this journey into Nagaland.

Planning:

Through different sources, I had come to know that to enter Nagaland, I need an Inner Line Permit (popularly known as ILP) which I found, can be obtained from the office of Deputy resident commissioner, Nagaland House at Delhi. So in mid November ‘07 I managed to get the much needed ILP from Delhi’s Nagaland Bhawan (at Aurangzeb Road, New Delhi-11) after shelling out 20 rupees and filling-in the formalities. The first thing which bewildered me was the following lines written on top of my ILP

‘Permit granted under section 1-4 of the Bengal Eastern Frontier Regulation Act of 1873’

Here I was standing at Nagaland Bhawan, Delhi in the year 2007 and we still have to abide by the laws put in paper in the year 1873. Whoops!  Thats incredibly Indian!

My ILP also mentioned the purpose of my visit, the duration (usually 15 days which can be extended by permission from local authorities), Identification mark and the place where I wish to go. Actually I wanted to reach Nagaland by the first week of December. This was the time I was informed that great show of Nagaland ‘Hornbill Festival’ takes palce. Another reason was the Rock gigs I could lay my hands on during Hornbill. But unluckily I could not move around that time and so I chose Christmas time to be there. In fact Christmas time is a good time to travel to Nagaland as the entire Naga community is in a festive mood during this time. Plus there is ceasefire among warring factions of Naga freedom fighters and opportunists alike during this festive season.

As my savings did not allow me to afford a flight to any closest Airport to Nagland viz Dimapur Imphal and Guwahati, I chose to book my AC-III rail ticket to Dimapur from Tundla by Brahmaputra Mail. Dimapur is the commercial capital and biggest Railhead in Nagaland. I could have also gone by Delhi-Dimapur Rajdhani Express but as it doesn’t halt at Tundla, I would have to shell out more money first and endure the five hours boring ride by bus for travelling to Delhi. But I would recommend Delhi-Dimapur Rajdhani for travellers starting from Delhi. And Brahmaputra Mail which starts from Delhi for those with a shoe string budget (and those who really want to see the true colours of India).