Tagged: sanskrit Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • The Diacritics 9:38 pm on October 16, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , , , , indo-european languages, , panini, sanskrit, scripts   

    Fun with abugidas (Part 1) 

    (Posted by Sandeep)

    Most major Indian languages can be separated into two major language families–with North Indian languages mainly classified in the geographically diverse Indo-European family (with distant cousins as far-flung as Persian and Irish Gaelic) and the South Indian languages in the Dravidian family, which is mostly limited to the southern part of the Subcontinent.

    Although grammatically and structurally quite distinct, many Indian Indo-European languages and Dravidian languages have some critical elements in common.

    First, the various scripts used to write Indian languages evolved from one script, Brahmi, which has been dated at least to the 3rd century BCE (on the Edicts of Ashoka) and perhaps earlier.

    Despite their common derivation, Indian scripts can look very different from each other.

    Consider the Sanskrit quote I posted a few days ago, written first in Devanagari (used to write Hindi, Nepali, Marathi, among others) and then in Kannada (used to write Kannada, Tulu, Konkani, among others). Sanskrit is now mostly written in Devanagari, but historically it was written in whatever was the script in vogue in various regions of India.

    Pretty different, right?

    The apparent visual differences between North and South Indian languages is often incorrectly conflated with the actual structural differences between Indo-European and Dravidian languages.

    For one, South Indian scripts, such as Kannada, Telugu, Tamil, and Malayalam, are “curvier” than North Indian scripts, which utilize more straight lines. However, this is popularly explained by linguists in India by the different writing media historically in use: ancient South Indians wrote on large dried leaves; straight lines would have punctured the leaves and rendered them useless, so South Indian scripts evolved more curves.

    Whether or not this explanation is true, I think recognizing the common ancestor of the scripts of India is a great (and missed) opportunity to build unity.

    Wikipedia has possible derivations of some letters in some Indian scripts from Brahmi:

    In a nation of 22 officially recognized languages and hundreds, if not thousands, more unofficial languages, linguistic differences are used to divide people. The apparent differences in scripts are a major part of this divisive arsenal–“Oh, look how different Tamil looks from Bengali; they must be so different from me.” Why not use it for the opposite purpose? “It’s remarkable that even though Tamil looks different from Bengali, we share a common ancestor script.”

    Folk etymologies and false derivations are rampant in India–especially because fluid word borrowings, especially from Sanskrit, confuse true linguistic relationships–but this is an actual, demonstrated, linguistically and historically valid commonality.

    A common ancestral script may be a minor thing to note, but Indians could use all the unity they can get, right?

    Alphabets, or why Indians were awesome linguists

    Indians were incredibly awesome linguists. More on this later, but a brief overview: the Aṣṭādhyāyī of Sanskrit grammarian Panini (c. 500 BCE) is the earliest known work of descriptive linguistics anywhere in the world. Still, even Panini refers to older Sanskrit works on grammar. Linguistic ideas are built into the oldest of old Sanskrit texts and Sanskrit morphology and syntactic rules are some of the most complex and most developed of any language in the world, past and present. Four of the six branches of Vedanga (the study of the ancient Hindu texts the Vedas) are linguistic: phonetics, etymology, meter, and grammar.

    In short, Indians were badass at linguistics.

    Part of this badass-ness (badassitude?) came in the form of the organization of many Indian alphabets. Unlike the Latin alphabet, which came to its present order (A, B, C…) through a series of historical serendipities, the standard organization of the Sanskrit alphabet is remarkably systematic.

    Many Indian languages now, even some Dravidian languages (which aren’t structurally similar to Sanskrit), use the exact same organizational chart.

    Consonants are organized in an implicit table. On one axis, consonants are distinguished by the type of closure required for their production:

    kaṇṭhya (velar), tālavya (palatal), mūrdhanya (retroflex), dantya (dental), and oṣṭhya (labial)

    On the other axis, consonants are distinguished by voicing and aspiration:

    aghoṣa alpaprāṇa (unvoiced unaspirated), aghoṣa mahāprāṇa (unvoiced aspirated), ghoṣa alpaprāṇa (voiced unaspirated), ghoṣa mahāprāṇa (voiced aspirated), then anunāsika (nasal).

    So in the first row of consonants, you have velar consonants, beginning with an unvoiced stop and ending with a nasal.

    /k/ /kʰ/ /g/ /gʰ/ /ŋ/

    The pattern continues. At the end of that collection, there are several antastha (approximant) consonants, three sibilants, and a voiced fricative.

    Here is a lovely table, adapted from Charles Wikner’s A Practical Sanskrit Introductory (1996).

    This table is misleading, though, because it’s not quite the exact order that the alphabet is recited in. The consonants ya, ra, la, va, sa, sa, sa, and ha are recited after ma. Here is a better representation of the order, here in Kannada, but without the linguistic tags (Omniglot):

    As far as I’m aware, this order is used more or less in the following major languages: Hindi, Kannada, Marathi, Nepali, Bengali, Telugu, Malayalam, Konkani, and Gujarati, among others. Tamil uses a similar, but reduced, organization.

    The Indian obsession with linguistics is built into the very structure of its languages. And it’s awesome.

    [Competition Update: We decided to withdraw ourselves from Grammar.net’s Best Grammar Blog of 2011 competition because we felt that voting was proceeding in an unfair manner. We are no longer participating.]

     
    • alficles 12:21 pm on October 17, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      I’m sorry to read that you’re withdrawing from the “competition”. While there are technically prizes, the real prize for me was finding a collection of language blogs to look through and add to my feed list. And while the actual voting may be unfair (though I have no idea, first I’ve heard of it), having your site on that list is a benefit to the people who might not have heard of you.

    • Anup 4:58 pm on October 27, 2012 Permalink | Reply

      Hi Sandeep,

      This article is a very nice read! I just happened to search something on google and came across this.
      I was wondering if you have any thoughts/references about my original search (that brought me here). I was wondering if there is some essential differences between the structure of sentences between South Indian and North Indian languages. I started thinking that might be so because of the differences I noticed in the way South Indians and North Indians speak English.

  • The Diacritics 6:43 pm on October 11, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , maxim, proverb, sanskrit   

    Language: When auspicious and charming, like a luxuriant vine creeper, whose minds does it not win over? भाषा प्रशस्ता सुमनो लतेव केषां न चेतांस्यावर्जयति |

    Sanskrit sūkta (traditional maxim)
     
    • The Diacritics 6:57 pm on October 11, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      An example of how translations can sometimes ruin the aesthetics of poetic language: the Sanskrit word “latā” literally means “creeper” — a type of beautifully lush vine common in Asia. In this quote, it appears in the inflected form “lateva” लतेव to describe words that are luxuriant and quick to gain hold in one’s mind (like a fast-growing creeper).

      “Latā” is a recurring image in Sanskrit poetry, often used to describe the curves of a voluptuous woman. But having a body “like a creeper” just sounds terrible in English — especially in modern slang, where a “creeper” describes any sort of shady character.

      Can you think of any other particularly bad translations in poetry from one language to another?

    • Ambarish 9:29 pm on October 11, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      Just a minor nit – the words are केषान्न (or केषां न).

  • The Diacritics 12:57 pm on September 27, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: , afghanistan, buddhism, , hinduism, , japan, korea, pop songs, , sa ding ding, sanskrit   

    Same mantra, different language 

    (Posted by Sandeep)

    In 2007, one of China’s biggest pop singers, Sa Ding Ding, released a hit song in Sanskrit — yes, that’s right, the dead liturgical language of Hinduism and Buddhism.

    Check it out:

    The words are taken from the 100-syllable Vajrasattva Mantra, an important prayer in Buddhism. It’s actually a pretty catchy song. But for Indians with any knowledge of Sanskrit, the words are totally unfamiliar: the Chinese pronunciation of Sanskrit is worlds away from the Indian pronunciation.

    Despite how popular the mantra is, I could only find one video of someone using the Indian Sanskrit pronunciation:

    Compare that to the Tibetan pronunciation:

    Buddhism is truly a remarkable religion in that it dominated in regions as far as Afghanistan in the west and Japan in the east. Not everyone spoke a language similar to Sanskrit, so it was inevitable that adopting peoples would adapt texts in Sanskrit and Pali (another liturgical language of Buddhism) to local pronunciations.

    But Indian tradition places the highest value on the oral transmission of sacred knowledge — ancient Indians were notoriously suspicious of written language, despising it as bad for the mind and for the soul. Because sacred scriptures were transmitted through intricate mnemonic procedures, pronunciation was highly preserved. Vedic Sanskrit was shared from generation to generation as a sort of time-capsule, even as the local vernaculars shifted in vocabulary and pronunciation.

    Sanskrit still holds an important place in Indian culture, especially for Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists. Most Indian languages today (even the non-Indo-European ones) borrow heavily from Sanskrit, most obviously in tatsama (literally, “that-same”) words, which are taken directly from Sanskrit without sound changes. For these reasons, many Indians today have a working knowledge of Sanskrit vocabulary, the pronunciation of which is relatively stable.

    And so we come to the curious case of Buddhism, which grew out of this Indian tradition that placed great emphasis on oral transmission.

    Should Indians really be upset that East Asian Buddhists pronounce Sanskrit mantras differently from the “correct” pronunciation? Prescriptivist Indians would shudder. I’m not so sure. Buddhism is as much “theirs” as it is “ours” — it’s been at least 1,500 years, after all. Some Buddhists would probably argue that the understood meaning of the mantras and their value as meditative devices are more valuable than faithful pronunciation. (Some strict Hindus might disagree; others would agree.) But for those who ascribe mystical power to the words themselves rather than the sentiment behind them, non-Indian pronunciation might pose problems.

    It’s a fun exercise to see the shift in pronunciation from India to far-off lands: consider the Sanskrit term dhyāna, meditation. In Pali, a historical vernacular (and later liturgical language) of India, it became jhāna. In Chinese, it’s chán. Korean, seon. And in Japanese, it’s the famous zen.

    In my native Kannada, we still use dhyāna. Perhaps we’re just old fashioned.

    I’m curious to compare the situation of Arabic — which, of course, has been adopted as a liturgical language in non-Arab Muslim countries — to Sanskrit. Islam requires the use of Arabic in reciting the Qur’an, but are non-Arab pronunciations of the text (say, in Indonesia or Bangladesh) different from Standard Arabic?

     
    • Ahmad 12:02 am on September 28, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      Great piece!

      Re: your last question. A trained Qur’an reciter in a non-Arab country will have the correct tajweed (roughly translates to elocution) of the text. Qur’an roughly translates into ‘recitation’ and it is a scripture that is primarily experienced orally with a high emphasis on memorizing it completely. (Little known fact: there are actually 7 surviving canonical pronunciations of the Qur’an) The rules of tajweed, however, and the Arabic language in general, doesn’t have any hard and fast rules for intonation so there are a wide variety of ways that the Qur’an is recited (chanted, sung). Certain regions have developed certain trends in the intonation while preserving the rules of tajweed, so it is possible to guess where a certain recitation comes from based on those trends. However, with the advent of audio cassettes, CDs, satellite television, and mp3s, it’s actually not uncommon for someone in Indonesia or Pakistan to try and imitate the popular Egyptian style or Saudi style of recitation instead of their own homegrown tradition. Not to mention physical Qur’an schools being set up by foreign countries and bringing their own theologies along as well.

      In terms of untrained reciters, i.e. the lay devotee, there are bound to be differences in pronunciation, but this even applies to Arabic speakers as local dialects and even Modern Standard Arabic are not exactly the same as 6th century Qur’anic Arabic. Whether these are ‘correct’ or ‘acceptable’ pronunciations are more of a theological question than anything.

      If you can, I’d recommend the recent HBO documentary “Qur’an by Heart”: Here’s the trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpO-a8AIz7M

      • The Diacritics 12:33 am on September 28, 2011 Permalink | Reply

        Wow, thanks for your detailed response! I’ll have to read more about regional intonation — it sounds like it could be a very rich topic of study. (And I’ve seen the trailer for that documentary before — I’ll have to check it out soon!) -Sandeep

    • Lane 5:14 pm on September 28, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      Good question about Arabic, but I’d guess something like “no”, though I don’t recall ever hearing a Bangladeshi reading or praying in Arabic. The reason I guess no is the much greater role of Arabic reading learning even among ordinary Muslims, rather than the (as you point out) greater prominence of oral transmission of Buddhism, the filter of Pali for most Theravada Buddhists, and the lesser emphasis on these being the literal words of God dictated directly to a human. Many Islamic circles still strongly discourage translation of the Koran, and there was the case of a man in Afghanistan who put out a Koran in Dari without the corresponding Arabic text alongside, for which he was imprisoned and fined.

c
Compose new post
j
Next post/Next comment
k
Previous post/Previous comment
r
Reply
e
Edit
o
Show/Hide comments
t
Go to top
l
Go to login
h
Show/Hide help
shift + esc
Cancel