Words that found their place in English vocabulary
English is peppered with words of alien origin. But, in common speech, unlike dictionaries, in modern times it has taken strangely few, except, of course, from India. Food has brought in many words for dishes with no English equivalent. Sushi, a Japanese rice-and-fish ball, is one; so too shashlik, an ex-Turkish, then Russian word for a kind of kebab (which itself came from Persian or Arabic, but, remarkably, found their place by the late 17th century). But the big source has been the explosive spread of Indian restaurants in many parts of the world.
One can argue which words are yet truly English, much as one can which dishes are in fact Indian, being prepared for international tastes. If you are a native English speaker and heard about Indian food then I guess you know about the difference between chapati from poppadom. You might also know about tandoori food, though not of a tandoor; but words like dal, raita, aloo saag or even ubiquitous such-and-such tikka masala may choke you — as we may on the so-called Indian restaurant cooking. As for vindaloo, the word is ex-Portuguese.
These culinary titbits have swamped earlier words brought home by returning nababs or humbler folk retiring to their bungalows or the odd spin in a dinghy by the river. Those three Indian-born words are many more by now are indisputably English. But many, though familiar to the sahibs, did not survive the voyage home: no nullahs (though today’s roads may have anti-noise bunds) and a dak-bungalow would certainly be taken as one with no windows.
Clothing too has played its part. Cashmere and calico long ago joined global English; so too kimono, Persia’s turban and the now rare cummerbund. Lunghi and dhoti never made it; but salwar khameez and sarong are well on the way.
Though Asia’s food and dress have added most to English, so have its oddities of geography or weather; like tsunami. Typhoon is ex-Chinese — tai fung, big wind — though it may also owe its name to Typhoon, a figure of Greek myth who produced such storms. Ex-Chinese also is tycoon — big prince — though it arrived as an honorific from Japan around 1860, before getting today’s meaning. But Russia’s permafrost wastes in Siberia got tundra from the Lapps of far-north Finland. And its steppes, even in Asia, are indeed Russian.
Transport too has played its part, as with India’s palanquin — it came via Portuguese from Oriya — or Japan’s rickshaw or the junk (which is by origin Malay, not Chinese; so let’s allow China it’s kowtow here, albeit one kowtows on one’s knees, not on wheels or the sea). Or, Thailand’s famous tuk-tuk. And western India can claim the tank, the misleading code-word used by British as they developed those vehicles for World War I.
And then there’s war itself, and other violence. Middle Eastern Arabic gave us assassins, stoned on hashish, Malays ran amok and it was Japanese kamikaze pilots who slammed suicidally into hostile warships. And it was not Asia but Germany that gave blitz, short for blitzkrieg. Krieg means war, blitz is lightning.
Lot of words slip over our tongue every day without barely a thought to their origins. And you will be fascinated if you dig a bit deeper. So, I hope you enjoyed reading this article as much as I enjoyed writing it.
