#Languages - Sindh Courier

Language gaps hinder Sindh Information Department Operations

nasiraijaz — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 01:01:39 +0000

Sindh Information Department is moving to replace its current media tracking software due to critical vulnerabilities, specifically its inability to comprehensively detect and analyze content in Urdu and Sindhi languages

KARACHI: The Sindh Information Department is moving to replace its current media tracking software due to critical vulnerabilities, specifically its inability to comprehensively detect and analyze content in Urdu and Sindhi languages within a critical response window.

To address these limitations, Secretary Information Kashif Gulzar Shaikh today reviewed a proposed, indigenous AI-Based Media Monitoring & Analytics System during a visit to the department’s Electronic and Social Media Monitoring Cell.

Director General Public Relations (DGPR) Dr. Muizzuddin Peerzada, alongside the technical team from the Media Monitoring and Rapid Response Cell (MM&RRC), briefed the Secretary on how the existing software falls short when processing regional languages during time-sensitive misinformation crises.

The proposed in-house system aims to bridge this gap by enabling real-time detection of fake news, coordinated trends, and narrative attacks across three major languages: Urdu, Sindhi, and English.

Stressing that a timely response to misinformation is non-negotiable, Secretary Shaikh directed that the new AI platform be fully integrated with the MM&RRC’s Key Performance Indicator (KPI) monitoring framework. He praised the development team for designing a cost-effective, local solution to a complex technical challenge.

To ensure a smooth transition, the Secretary ordered the department to expedite the administrative approval process and emphasized immediate capacity-building and training for the operational staff.

The visit concluded with the Secretary inspecting the 24/7 monitoring setup, where he engaged directly with on-duty analysts to discuss day-to-day operational challenges. Other senior officials and the Consultant for the Social Media Cell, were also present. (PR)

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Read: Sindh govt. departments fail to implement Right to Information law

The post Language gaps hinder Sindh Information Department Operations first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Traces of the Pali Language in Sindh

nasiraijaz — Wed, 31 Dec 2025 00:50:56 +0000

Was Pali the same language as Sindhi in which the Buddha expressed his thoughts? – The writer opens a new debate

Aziz Kingrani

Pali was the religious language of Buddhism. The spread of Buddhism in Sindh took place during the Mauryan period, which has been discussed separately in this book under the heading of Buddhism. In Sindh, Pali remained in use as a religious language and maintained a close relationship with the Sindhi language. Unfortunately, very few of its written records have survived in Sindh One must agree with the opinion of Mukhtiar Malah, who states:

“Extensive research should be conducted on the Pali language, because Sindhi and Pali share many similarities and identical lexical meanings. Pali had a strong influence in Sindh up to the Brahman dynasty in Sidh. However, the writings of that period were probably lost due to the upheavals of time” (Malah: 2023).

Pali Inscriptions on Stones in Sindh

The Kirthar mountain range in Sindh is extremely rich in carvings and inscriptions. Magnificent rock art has been found on mountains and stones. These carvings include Buddhist stupas and temples, Hindu religious symbols and temples, Zoroastrian fire temples, as well as images of various animals. Alongside Sanskrit and Pali inscriptions in the Brahmi script, Kharosthi inscriptions have also been found (Kangrani: 2019: 162). According to my personal field survey, Pali inscriptions in an ancient Pali script have been found carved on the Kirthar Mountains near the town of Wahi Padi in Johi Taluka, Dadu District. In addition, ancient Pali inscriptions have also been found carved near the hill known as “Tharo” or “Thararo” close to the town of Gujo in Thatta District.

Findings from Mohenjo-daro

The civilization of Mohenjo-daro belongs to an ancient period; however, according to Jayram Das, from the upper layer associated with the Buddhist stupa, “five pottery vessels were discovered, which were used for drinking water. Each vessel bears an inscription carved in the Pali language and the Brahmi script” (Jayram: 2011: 36).

Pali Inscription on a Copper Plate

The renowned researcher Dr. Nabi Bakhsh Baloch mentions a Pali inscription engraved on a copper plate and has also provided an illustrated inscription tablet. This plate was discovered from the ruins of the ancient Buddhist monastery of “Sue Vihar,” located sixteen miles southwest of Bahawalpur (Punjab, Pakistan). According to him, this inscription has been recognized as a “Bakhti Pali” inscription (Baloch: 1990: 20). At that time, Bahawalpur should be considered part of Sindh.

Traces of Pali in Sindhi Folk Literature

Muhammad Salahuddin considers the Pali language to be essentially Sindhi. In his English-language books “Sindh: A Time Capsule of Heritage” and “Patalini, Rawar and Pali”, he has presented many words that are still in use today in both Pali and modern Sindhi. His books include discussions on the relationship between Pali and Sindhi, as well as topics related to Buddhism. Words from his books have also been included in this work. Criticizing linguists, scholars, and researchers, Muhammad Salahuddin argues through literature, folklore, and rational reasoning that:

“Our Sindhi intellectuals, who have never tried to acquire knowledge about the Pali language, unknowingly search for their roots (the roots of the Sindhi language) in Sanskrit, Semitic, or Arabic languages. Gautama Buddha belonged to the ‘Sakya’ people or tribe. The word ‘Saak’ is still used today in rural areas with the same meaning, and there is also a common saying asking what kind of relationship or ‘syako’ one has with someone. Or in a folk song, this verse appears:

Kaharo Sangg Siyako,, Jeejal tann Jattan saan

Salahuddin further writes that “Shah Latif himself used this word with the same meaning in Sur Sassui. Another most important point is that the links of civilization, culture, social life, and customs move from west to east. The Hindus claim that the foundation of their civilization lies in the Vedas, which were written in the land of the Indus Valley and then gradually spread to Bihar and Bengal. If so, is it impossible that Gautama Buddha belonged to the Sindhi people? Especially when Greek writers have indirectly identified Chandragupta Mauryan as the ruler of ‘Patala’ (Moeris). This clearly indicates that Pali is essentially the same Sindhi language in which Gautama Buddha expressed his thoughts.” (Salahuddin: 2010: 277).

If serious research is conducted to discover evidence or traces of the Pali language in Sindh, it can be stated with confidence that clear and substantial traces of Pali can indeed be found in Sindh.

References

Mallah Mukhtiar, 2023, Sindhi Boli Journal, Sindhi language Authority, Hyderabad
Kingrani Aziz, 2019, Indus Script in Stone, Peacock publishers, Karachi
Jairam Das, Daulatram, 2011, Sindhi Boli aen Lippi jo Ethas, Sindhi Language Authority, Hyderabad
Baloch Dr N. A, 1990, Sindhi Boli aen Adab ji tareekh, Center Jamshoro
Salahuddin Muhammad, 2o10, Pataleni, Rawar and Pāli, Zyn publication Karachi

Read: Sindhi and Pāli: A comparative Study

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Aziz Kingrani, hailing from village Haji Manik Kingrani, Johi, Dadu District, Sindh, Pakistan, is poet, short story writer, playwright and a researcher. He has been contributing in the fields of history and literature. He has served as a professor as well. His 17 books are published in English and Sindhi language.

The post Traces of the Pali Language in Sindh first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Sindhi and Pāli: A comparative Study

nasiraijaz — Sun, 21 Dec 2025 03:28:41 +0000

This study demonstrates a strong linguistic affinity between Pāli and Sindhi, with over 40% shared vocabulary, often retaining identical meanings and closely related pronunciation

As a primarily religious language, Pāli may also have functioned as a vernacular among the common people of Sindh.
Pāli does not possess its own independent alphabet. Pāli manuscripts have historically been written using Sinhalese, Burmese, Thai, and Cambodian scripts, as well as several ancient scripts derived from Brāhmī characters

Aziz Kingrani

The purpose of this comparative study of Pāli and Sindhi is to demonstrate their close morphological, syntactic, phonetic, and lexical relationship. Many Pāli scholars have overlooked the Sindhi origins of several words attested in Pāli, leading to uncertain or incomplete etymological interpretations. This oversight is significant, particularly given that Sindh was a major center of Buddhism in pre-Islamic times (Kalhoro, 2013: 115), and that Buddhism spread widely across the region during the Mauryan period, especially under Aśoka (Kingrani, 2019: 57). As a primarily religious language, Pāli may also have functioned as a vernacular among the common people of Sindh.

Toponymic correspondences such as Pāli ‘Macchko’ (“fish”) and ‘Kāccho’ (“armpit” “marshy land”) with present-day Machhko and Kachho in Sindh further suggest a strong linguistic connection between Pāli and Sindhi. Pāli is generally classified as a Middle Indo-Aryan language and is best known as the language of the Theravāda Buddhist canon, preserved through religious and scholarly traditions (Bimala, 1933: V; Gruyter, 1996: 3). Childers describes Pāli as a Prakrit vernacular spoken in the sixth century BCE and preferred by the Buddha for communicating with ordinary people (Childers, 1875: vii; Thera, 2013: 1).

Burmese Kammavaca written in Pali – Wikipedia

Similarly, Sindhi has historically been the language of common people, though it lacks early written records, apart from loanwords in the Rigveda and Pāṇini’s grammar. Despite being classified as a Modern Indo-Aryan language, Sindhi retains extensive lexical and structural connections with Proto-Dravidian and Dravidian languages. Grierson’s view, cited by Salahuddin, links Pāli to the ancient language of Takṣaśilā and notes its resemblance to Paiśācī Prakrit (Salahuddin, 2012: 256). Salahuddin further argues that the language of Mohenjo-daro gradually evolved into Pāli, Sindhi, and Sanskrit, and that shared vocabulary between Sindhi and Pāli indicates a stage predating Prakrit (Salahuddin, 2012: 256–262). These perspectives support the view that Sindhi and Pāli represent two ancient branches of a common linguistic heritage.

Lexical Similarities between Pāli and Sindhi

There is significant lexical similarity between Pāli and Sindhi, indicating a close historical relationship. Due to changes in script, religious context, and lexical attrition, many Sindhi-origin words found in Pāli are no longer used in modern Sindhi. Despite this loss, the remaining shared vocabulary—showing both identical meanings and phonological variation—clearly demonstrates the linguistic affinity between the two languages. The examples presented are drawn from selected Pāli–English dictionaries.

Pāli Sindhi English

Akkhara (اکر) Akharu (اکر) Letter

Akkha/Akkhi (اک) Akha (اک) Eye

Tārā (تارا) Taaraa (تارا، دوڏا، ماڻڪي) Pupil of eye

Aggh (اگھ) Aghu (اَگھُ، مُلھ) Price

Aggi (اگ) Aag (آڳ) Fire

Aṅgaņa (انگن) Angann (اڱڻ) Courtyard, Open space

Aṅga (انگ) Angu (عضوو، جسم جو حصو) limb, bofy pards

Aṅgār (انگار) Angaar (اڱار، ڪوئلو) Coal, Charcoal

Aṅguṭṭha (انگوٺا) Angutho (آڱوٺو) Thumb, finger

Aṅguli (انگولي) Aangur (آڱر) Finger

Pabba (پب) Pabu (پَٻُ) Part of foot, toe

Acchā/Acch (اڇ، اَڇا) Achho/Achh (اڇو، اَڇُ) white, bright

Nāḷi (نالي) Naali (نالي، نلي) Pipe

Ațțha (8) Atha (8) Eight

Aṅu (انو/اڻو) Ano/Uno (اُڻو) An atom

Addh (اڌ) Adh (اڌ) Half

Anāpucchā (انا پُڇا) Anpuchha (اڻ پُڇا) without asking

Abala (اَبَلَ) Abala (اَٻَلُ، ڪمزور) weak

Mitt (امِٽ) Mitt (مائٽ) not relative

Amba (امب) Ambu/nbu (امبُ) Mango

Ambara (امبر) Ambaru (امبرُ، آڪاس) Sky

Ammā (اما) Amaan (امان) Mother

Putt (پوٽ) Putt (پُٽ) Mother’s son, brother

Ayyā (ايا) Aaya (آيا، ٻار سنڀالڻ وارِي) Lady

Arūpa (اروپ) Aroop (اَ رُوپ، بد شڪل) Formless

Sacca (سچ) Sach (سچ) Truth

Are (اري!) Are (اڙي!) Hey!, Hello!

Arog (اَرُگ) Arog (اَروڳ، روڳ نه، صحتمند) healthy

Alajjī (اَلَجي) Alajji (اَلَڄي، لجي نه، بي شرم) Shameless

Alasa (اَلَس) Aalas (آلس يا آرس) Lazy, Laziness

Arūpī (اَروپِي), Aroopi (اَروپِي، بدصورت) Formless

Alābba (اَلاڀ) Alaabh (اَلاڀ، بي فائدو) Loss

Alla (اَلَ) Aalo (آلو، گھِميل) Wet, Moist

Avatār (اوَتار) Aotaar (اوتار) a deity

Daru (دَرو) Daar (ڏارُ، وڻ جو ٽار) green wood

Avera (اَوير) Averu (اَويرُ، ويرُ نه) not enmity

Avella (اَويل) Avellu (اَويلُ، اَويرُ، ڪُمهلو) improper time

Dharā (ڌارا) Dhaara (ڌارا) stream, flow, line

Ākas (آڪاس) Aakaas (آڪاس) Sky

Āsa (آس) Aas (آس، اميد) Wish, desire

Ucca (اُچ) Ucho (اوچو، مٿانهون) High

Ujjala (اُجل) Ujaalo (اُجالو) Bright

Unna (اُن) Unna (اُن) wool

Bhūmi (ڀومي) Bhoomi (ڀُومي) ground, earth

Ussūra (اُسور) Asur (اَسُر) Sunrise

Kaccha (ڪَڇَ) Kachh (ڪَڇَ، بغل) armpit, marshy land

(Probably Kachho?)

Kadā (ڪَڊا) Kadahan (ڪڏ، ڪڏهن) When

Vikkaya (وڪيه) Vikyo (وڪيو، وڪرو) buying, selling, Trade

Chhatta (ڇَٽ) Chhatt (ڇَٽُ، ڇٽي) Umbrella, sun shed

Chakkā (ڇڪا) Chhako (ڇڪو) set of six

Jana (جَن) Jano (ڄڻو، هڪ ڃڻو) man, person

Pacāraka (پچارڪ) Parcharik (پرچارڪ) preacher

Paccana (پچن/پچڻ) Pachan (پچڻ، ٻڙڪڻ) boiling

Bala (بَل) Balu (ٻَلُ) Power of insight

Dhan (ڌن) Dhan (ڌن) Treasure

Pani (پنِي) Pani (پڻِي) Trader

Paniya (پنيا) Paniyo (واپار جو وکر) Item of trade

Dhātu (ڌاتو) Dhatoo (ڌاتُو) Metal

Ghara (گھر) Ghar (گھر) Home

Paputta (پَپوٽ) ParPoto (پڙپوٽو) Grandson

Pabbat (پَبَتَ) Parbat (پربت، جبل) Mountain

Maraņā (مرنا/مرڻا) Marano (مرڻو) Death, after death

Pāda (پاڊ) Paar (پاڙ) Root

Para (پَرَ) Par (پَرَ، ڌاريو) other, out sider

Kāra (ڪار) Kaar (ڪار، ڪم) Action, work

Ghātī or ghāta (گھات) Ghaat (گھات) destroying life

Pāra (پار) Paar (پار، ٻئي ڪناري) Opposite Shore

Pāpa (پاپ) Paapu (پاپ، ڏوھ) Sin

Puccha (پوڇ) Puchh (پُڇ) Tail

Puchhā (پوڇا) Puchha (پُڇا) Asking, questioning

Pițțha (پِٺ) Puthh (پُٺ) back

Putt (پوٽ) Putt (پُٽ) son

Pura (پور) pur (پُر، پُور) town, city

Bala (بَلَ) Balu (ٻَلَ) strength

Bāla (بال) Baal (ٻال، ٻار) Child

Bāhā (باها) Banhan (ٻانهن) Arm

Bahira (بَهِر) Baahir (ٻاهر) outer, external

Bila (بِلَ) Bilu (ٻِل، ٻِرُ) Hole

Bij (بِج) Biju (ٻِجُ) Seed

Bhaga/Bhāg (ڀگ/ڀاگ) Bhaagu (ڀاڳُ) Luck

Bhikkhu (ڀِڪُو) Bhikshoo (ڀِڪشُو) Buddhist monk

Bhitti (ڀِتِ) Bhiti (ڀِتِ) wall

Bhū (ڀُو) Bhoon (ڀُون) earth

Bhūri (ڀورِي) Bhori (ڀورِي، ڀورائي) Wisdom

Bheri (ڀيرِ) Bheri (ڀيرِ) Drum

Maccha (مڇ) Machh (مڇ) big fish

Macchi (مڇي) Machhi (مڇي) Fish

Mati (مَت) Mati (مَت) Wisdom

Mana (مَن) Manu (مَن) Mind

Sara (سَرَ) Sar (سَرَ، ڍنڍ) Lake

Māņa (ماڻ) Maan (ماڻُ، ماپو) measurement

Mīna (مِينَ) Meen (مِينَ) Fish

Mun̄ja (مُج) Munjj (مُڃ) Type of Grass

Mora (مور) Morre (مور) Peacock

Ratta (رَت) Ratt (رَت) blood, red

Ruņņa (روڻ) Ru’an (رُئڻ) weeping

Rog (روگ) Rog (روڳ، درد) disease pain

Rūpa (روپ) Roop (روپ) feature

Rogī (روگي) Rogi (روڳي، دردمند) Patient

Lābbh (لاڀ) Laabh (لاڀ) gain

likkhan̦a (لکڻ) Likhan (لکڻ) to write, Writing

lin᷾ga (لنڱ) Ling (لِڱ) Parts of body

Lipī (لِپِي) Lipi (لِپِي) Alphabet, letters

Lipīkāra (لِپِيڪار) Lipikaar (ليکڪ) writer

Lubbh, Lobbh (لُڀ) lobh (لوڀ) greediness

Lūņa or Loņņa (لُڻ) Lunan (لُڻڻ) to reap

Lekhanī (ليکڻي) Likhani (لکڻي، ڪلڪ) Pen

lekh (ليک) Lekh (ليک) Article, writing

Wagga (وَگ) Wag (وَڳ، اُٺن جو) group (of camels)

Lok (لُڪ) Loke (لوڪ) World, People

Loha (لُھَ) Loh (لوھ) Iron

Lohkāra (لُهڪار) Lohaar (لوهار) Blacksmith

Vacch (وَڇ) Vachh (وَڇ) Calf (of buffalo)

Vaņījjā (وَڻج) Vanj (وَڻج) Trade

Vicār (وِچار) Vichaar (ويچار) thought

Virāga (وِراگ) Veraag (ويراڳ) having no desire

Visāl (وسال) Vishal (وِشال) Wide

Vejja (ويج) Vejj (ويڄ) Doctor

Vera (وير) Veru (ويرُ) Enmity

Sajjan (سَجن) Sajjanu (سَڄڻ) well-wisher

Velā (ويلا) Velo (ويلو) Time

Saț̦̦țha (60) Sath (60) Sixty

Satī (سَتِي) Sati (سَتِي) Virtuous

Satthi (سَٿِ) Sathar (سٿر) Thigh

Sabala (سَبل) subalu (سُٻَلُ) strong

Sabbh (سَڀ) Sabhu (سَڀ) All

Sappa (سَپ) Sapu (سَپ) Snake

Sarīra (سَرير) Sarir (سَرير) Body

Sassu (سس) Sasu (سس) Mother in law

Sadhu (سَڌ) Saadhu (ساڌ) Good

Sāla (سال) Salo (سالو) Brother in law

Sināna (سنان) Sanan (سنان) Bathing

Sikhana (سِکن) Sikhanu (سکڻ) To Learn

Sikhā (سِکا) Sikhiya (سِکيا) Study, learning

Siņga (سِگ) Singu (سِڱ) Horn

Sigh (سِگھ) Sagh (سَگھ) Power

Soņņa (سوڻ) Sonu (سون) Gold

Siṅgī (سِنگِي) Singi (سِڱِي) Horny stick, Mandhani

Subha (سُڀ) Sobh (سوڀ) Luck, success

Hatha (هٿ) Hath (هٿ) Hand

Hala (هل) Har (هر) Plough

Hiṅga (هِنگ) Hing (هنڱ) A plant

(Mahāthara: 1949)

Abhyās (اڀياس) Abhyaas (اڀياس) Study

Māgg (ماگ) Maag (ماڳ، جڳھ) Distance, place

Ăddhāra (آڌار) Aadharu (آڌار) Support

Addha (اڌ) Adhu (اڌ) Half

Agho (اگھُ) Aghu (اگھُ) Price

Ajja (اج) Ajju (اڄ) today

Alāpo (اَلاپ) Aalaap (آلاپ) melody voice

Alobbha (اَلُڀ) Alabh (اَلوڀ، بي لالچ) not greedy

An-Āriyo (ان-آريو) AnAriyo (اڻ آريو) not noble, un-Ariya

Aņņik (اڻيڪ) Anek (انيڪ) Countless

Ārām (ارام) Araam (آرام، سڪون) Rest, joy

Aphalo (اَڦل) Aphal (اڦل) fruitless

Anto (انتُ) Antu (انت) End

Āsa (آس) Aas (آس،) wish, desire

Akko (اڪ) Akk (اڪ) a plant

Āsacc (اسچ) Asach (اَسچ، ڪوڙ) not truth, lie

Āsā (آسا) Asa (آسا) Wish

Sāddu (ساڌو) Sadhoo (ساڌو) religious leader

Āsādhu (اَساڌو) Asaadhoo (اَساڌو) Not religious

Atul (اَتول) Atul (اَتول/اتور) incomparable

Bāhu (باھو) Baah (باھ) Fire, arm

Bhaggu (ڀگو) Bhago (ڀڳ، ڀڳل) Broken

Chintā (چنتا) Chinta (چنتا، ڳڻتي) worry, though

Cunno (چونُ) Choono (چونو، سيڙهي) Lime

Danbho Dambha (دنڀ) Danbh (ڏنڀ) Deceit

Deso (ديس) Des (ديس) country

Digho (دگھو) Digho (ڊگهو) long

Duhalo (دوهلُ) Duhal (دُهل) Abdomen of pregnant woman, Drum

Dukkho (دوکُ) Dukh (ڏُک) pain, painful

Dhatu (ڌاتو) Dhatu (ڌاتو) base of word

Dudho (دڌ) Dudh (ڏڌ) butter milk, lassi

Dukaro (دُڪر) Dukaru (ڏُڪر، ڏُڪار) famine or drought

Dukhi (دُکِي) Dukhi (ڏُکارو) Sorrowful

Gabho (گڀ) Gabhu (ڳڀ) womb, pregnancy

Gaj (گج) Gaj, Gaj (گج، گاج) Roar

Ganbhiro (گنڀير) Ganbhir (گنڀير، ڳنڀير) Solemn

Giti (گيت) Geet (گيت) Song

Goro (گورو) Goro (گورو، ڀُورو) white

Guņ (گوڻ) Gun (گُڻ) goodness

Kambalo (ڪمبلُ) Kambal (ڪمبل) Blanket

Kami (ڪَمِي) Kami (، ڪَمِي، مزور) laborer

Kaņņa (ڪاڻا) Kanno (ڪاڻو) Blind

Kāno (ڪَانُ) Kanu (ڪَنُ) Ear

Kņraņa (ڪرڻ) Karan (ڪرڻ) to do

Kari (ڪَرِ) Kari (ڪَرِ) do

Kavi (ڪَوِي) Kavi (ڪَوِي) Poet

Khāro (کارو) Kharo (کارو) Salty

Hath (هٿ) Hath (هٿ) Hand

Jala (جل) Jal (جل) Water

Jețțh (جيٺ) Jethu (ڄيٺ) name of month

Kāl (ڪال) Kaal (ڪال) Time

Joyā (جويا) Joe (جوءِ) wife

Lobho (لُڀَ) lobha (لوڀ، لالچ) greediness

Macchko (ماڇڪو) Machhako (ماڇڪو) fish

(Probably, Machhko, a name of an area of fishermen which is still in Panjab, Pakistan)

Maccho (مڇ) Machh (مڇ) catfish, crocodile

Kummo (ڪومُ) Kumi (ڪُمِي) Tortile

Lābbho (لاڀُ) Laabh (لاڀُ) benefit

Laddho (لڌُ) Ladho (لڌو) saw or seen

Lajji (لج) Lajja (لڄ) Shame

Lațț̦hi (لٺ) Latha (لٺ) Stick

Lekhako (ليکڪ) Lekhaku (ليکڪ) to draw line, writer

Lekho (ليکُ) Lekhu (ليک) wright-up, article

Lepo (ليپُ) lepo (ليپو) Whitewash with mud

Madhu (مَڌو) MadhU (مَڌُ، شراب) Vine

Mahā (مها) Maha (مها) big

Manjjhando (منجهند) Majhand (منجهند) midday

Nadi (ندي) Nadi (ندي) River

Mala (مَل) Malh (مَلَ، ملھ) Sindhi wrestling

Mando (مندو) Mando (مبڊو) lame

Sadd (سد) Sadd (سڏ) call

Māni (مانِ) Maan (مانُ) respect

Mano (مَنُ) Manu (مَنُ) Mind

Māro, Maro (مَرُ، مار) Maar, maru (مارُ، مَرُ،موت) death

Masi (مَسِ) Mai (مَسِ) Ink

Mās (ماس) Maas (ماس) flesh, meat

Meghu (ميگھ) Meghu (ميگھ، مينهن) rain

Nād (ناد) Naad (ناد) roar, an instrument

Nagari (نگري) Nagari (نگري) hamlet, village

Nāggo (ناگُ) Nango (نانگو) naked, bare

Nāri (ناري) Naar (ناري) female

Nar/Nār (نر، نار) Nar (نر، نار) male

Nava (9) Nanva (9) nine

Nāvā (ناوا) Naav (ناوَ، ناءٌ) boat

Navo (نَوُ) Naon (نئون) new

Nibbhogo (نِڀُگَ) Nibbhago (نِڀَگُ) Nibhagu (نِڀاڳ) unlucky, bad luck

Nīca (نچا) Neech (نيچ) mean, low

Nikkammo (نِڪمُ) Nikamo (نڪمو) lazy, workless

Nilajjo (نِلَج) Nilajo (نِلَڄو) shameless

Pāpo (پاپُ) Papu (پاپُ، ڏوھ) sinless

Oțțho (اُٺ) utha (اُٺ) camel

Pāpi (پاپِي) Papi (پاپِي) Sinner, Cruel

Patanֺ҆go (پتنگ) Patangu (پتنگ) a moth

Pāti (پاٽِ) PaatI (پاٽ) earthen pot

Phan (ڦن) Phan (ڦڻ) hood

Puccho (پوڇ) Puchh (پُڇ) tail

Pucchā (پوڇا) Puchha (پُڇا) asking, quarry

Purāno (پورانُ) Purano (پُراڻو) old

Raso (رسُ) Rasu (رَسُ) juice type

Ratha (رَٿَ) Rath (رَٿَ) Cart

Ripu (رِپو) Ripu (رِپُ) Powerful, enemy

Rosano (رُسَنُ) Rusanu (رُسَڻُ) angry

Sabbho (سڀ) Sabh (سڀ) All

Sadā (سدا) Sada (سدا) always

Saddo (سَدُ) Sadd (سڏ) call

Sanjhā, Sājh (سنجها، سجھ) Sangho (سنجهو) evening, twilight, dusk

Sappo (سَپُ) Sappu (سَپُ) Snake

Sigho (سِگھُ) Sigho (سِگھو) quick

Sikkho (سِکُ) Sikhu (سِکُ) learn

Sundaro (سُندرُ) Sunder (سُندر، سُهڻو) beautiful

Tarano (تَرنُ) Taranu (تَرڻُ) to swim

Vāro (وارُ) Varu (وارُ) day

Vijju, Vijjū (وِجو) Viju (وِڄُ) lightning

(Childers: 1875)

Asubbha (ااَسوڀ) Asobh (اَسوڀ، ناڪامي) foulness

Dāna (دانَ) Daan (دانُ، بخشش) Almsgiving

Dhātu (ڌاتو) Dhatu (ڌاتو) element, metal

Dosa (دُس) Dauns (دونس) Hatred, Anger

Kalyāņa (ڪلياڻ) Kaylan (ڪلياڻ) good, peace

(Nyanatiloka.Ven: 1980)

Akkhāyin (اکايِن) Aakhan (آکڻ) telling, saying

Agaro (اَگَرُ) Agaro (اَڳرو، ڳرو نه، هلڪو) weightless

Angaņa (اگڻَ) Aganu (اَڱڻ) Courtyard

Atala (اٽل) Atalu (اٽل) Firm

Akhāta (اَکاٽَ) Akhatu (اَکاٽ، نه کوٽڻ) undug

Ajgara (اجگر) Ajgara (اجگر، ازدها) rock snake

Andha (انڌَ) Andhu (انڌُ) Blinded, blinding, priding

Amara (امر) Amar (امر) Immortal

Alagga (الگ) Alag (الڳ) not attached

Avasa (اَوَسَ) Avas (اَوَسُ، بيوس) powerless

Avijjā (اَوِجا) Avija (اَوِڄا، بي عِلمي) ignorance

Kathā (ڪَٿا) Katha (ڪَٿا) to tell, to talk (story)

Khāta (کاٽ) Khaat (کاٽ، کاٽ هڻڻ) digging

Khādā (کادا) Khadho (کاڌو) food

Khīra (کِير) Khir (کِير) milk, milky

Khura (کور) Khur (کُر) hoof of animal

Gandhāra (گنڌار) Qandhar (قنڌار) Qandhar city

Garu (گرو) Garo (ڳرو) heavy

Cakk (چَڪ) Chak (ڪُڀارڪي چَڪ) quell to turn round

Candan (چندن) Chandan (چندن) Sandal like tree

Camma (چَمَ) Chamu (چَمُ، چمڙي) skin

Cintā (چِنتا) Chinta (چِنتا، فڪر) act of thinking

Cora (چور) Chore (چور) thief

Jagat (جگت) Jagat (جڳت) world

Jagga (جگ) Jaag (جاڳ) wakefulness

Jāgara (جاگر) Jagar (جاڳر، جاڳ) waking, watchful

Jāgarata (جاگرت) Jaarta (جاڳرتا) Watchfulness

Jita (جيت) Jeet (جيت) conquer, victory

Jivhā (جِوَھ) Jibh (ڄِڀ) tongue

Joti (جوتِ) Jot (جوت) brightness

Than (ٿن/ٿڻ) Thann (ٿڻ) breast of woman or animal teat

Thambbha (ٿنڀ) Tanbh (ٿنڀ) Pillar

Thāla (ٿال) Thaalh (ٿالھ) dish, plate

Thālī (ٿالي) Thalhi (ٿالھي) earthen pot, plate

Doha (دُھَ) Duh (ڏُھَ، ڏُهڻ) milking

Dvāra (دُوار) Duvaar (دُوار) door

Dhuta (ڌوت) Dhoto (ڌوتو) washed cleaned

Nagara (نگر) Nagaru (نگر) village, township

Nacca (نَچ) Nachu (نَچ) dancing, nautch

Naccana (نڇن/نچڻ) Nachan (نچڻ) to dance

Natthu (نٿو) Nathu (نَٿُ) Nose (ornament of nose)

Nabha (نَڀ) Nibhu (نِڀ) Sky

Nāsa (ناس) Naas (ناس، فنا) ruin

Nilajja (نِلَج) Nilajj (نِه لڄُ) shameless

Nilobha (نِه لُڀ) Nilobh (نِه لوڀ) No greedless, free from desire

Pkka (پَچَ/پَڪَ) Pakk/pach (پَڪَ/پَچَ) cook, bake

Paggharaņa (پگهرڻَ) Paghran (پگهرڻ) trickling, oozing

Paccaņa (پچڻ) Pachan (پچڻ) cook, boil

Paņya (پڻيا) Pani (پڻي) trader, article of trade, to be sold

Pabbhāta (پَڀات) Pirbhaat (پرڀات) Dawn, dawning

Parikkhā (پَرِکا) Parkh (پرک) examination, investigation

Bunda (بوند/بونڊ) Bund (بُنڊ) stem or root of tree

Bhagga (ڀگ) Bhag (ڀڳ) broken

Bhatta (ڀَتَ) Bhat (ڀَتَ) feeding, food, meal (Sindhi: food of rice)

Bhitti (ڀِتِ) Bhit (ڀِتِ) wall

Bhukk (ڀوڪ) Bhaunk (ڀونڪ) to bark

Bheri (ڀيرِ) Bher (ڀيرِ، چڙو) A kettle-drum, drum of ruler or lord

Makkhaņa (مکڻ) Makhan (مکڻ) butter, oil

Maņa (مڻ) Mann (مڻ) a gem type thing gotten from head of snake

Matha (مٿ) Matho (مٿو) head, skull

Madhura (مَڌور) Madhur (مَڌُر) sweet

Madhuratta (مَڌورتا) Madhurta (مَڌُرتا) sweetness

Mandira (مندر) Mandir (مندر) Temple, house

Malla (مَلَ) Malh (ملھ) wrestler

Rakkha/Rakkhā (رَکَ) Rakh (رَکَ، رک ڪرڻ) care, Guarding

Ranga (رَنگَ) Rang (ربگ) color, paint

Racchā (رَڇا) Rachh (رَڇ) net for fishing, carriage road

Randha (رنڌ) Radhu (رِنڌُ، رِنڌڻ، رِڌڻ) cooked

Lakkhī (لَکِي) Lakhi (لَکِي) Luck, good fortune

Lajjā (لجا) Lajju (لڄا) Shame, shamefulness

Labha (لڀن) Labhan (لڀڻ، لهڻ) to be received

Labhana (لڀڻ/لڀن) Labhan (لڀڻ) receiving, taking

Likhana (لکڻ/لکن) Likhan (لکڻ) to write, writing

Likhata/Likhati (لکت) Likhat (لکت) writing, carving

Vattu (وتو) Vaat (وات) the mouth

Vadh (وڍ) Vadh (وڍ، وڍڻ) cutting, killing

Vallī (وَلِ) Vali (وَلِ) a climber plant

Vasati (وستي) Vasti (وستي) dwelling, abode, residence

Vassa (وس) Vass (وس، مينهن) rain

Vāk (واڪ) Vaak (واڪ، وڪري وقت واڪ ڏيڻ) voice, speech, talk

Virāga (وِراگ) Veraag (ويراڳ) dispassionateness, absence of desire

Velā (ويلا) Velo (ويلو) Time

Sakhī (سَکِي) Sakhi (سَکِي، سهيلي) female friend

Satī (سَتِي) Sati (سَتِي) a good or chaste woman

Samudda (سَمود) Samund (سمُنڊ) sea, ocean

Sādhu (ساڌو) Sadhu (ساڌُ، پاڪ) Virtuous, pious

Sārasa (سارس) Saras (سارس) water bird

Sālī (سالِي) Sali (سالِي) sister in law

Sīsa (سِيس) Sisu (سِيس، سِرُ) head

(Davids T.W Ryhs and William Sted: 1921)

Phonology

Phonology studies how languages organize and pattern sounds, focusing on abstract rules and mental representations rather than physical sound production, which belongs to phonetics. Words are articulated in syllables, each consisting of a vowel alone or a vowel with one or more consonants. For example, the Pāli word aLābho has three syllables (a-lā-bho): the first contains only a vowel, while the latter two consist of a consonant plus a vowel (Rahman, 2009: 4). The same word, with identical meaning and syllabic structure, also occurs in Sindhi.

19th century Burmese Kammavācā (confession for Buddhist monks), written in Pali on gilded palm leaf – Wikipedia

Alphabet

Pāli does not possess its own independent alphabet. Pāli manuscripts have historically been written using Sinhalese, Burmese, Thai, and Cambodian scripts, as well as several ancient scripts derived from Brāhmī characters. In modern usage, Pāli is also written in the Romanized script (Walder, 2001: 1). Most commonly today, the Roman script is used to write Pāli (Bomhard, 2018: 1).

According to Parniola (1997: 2), the Pāli alphabet consists of 42 letters, divided into eight vowels, thirty-three consonants, and one nasal sound. Charles Duroiselle, however, states that the Pāli alphabet consists of 41 letters: six vowels, two diphthongs, thirty-two consonants, and one auxiliary sound known as Niggalūta (Duroiselle, 1997: 1).

In contrast, the Sindhi language consists of 52 letters, largely due to the influence of Arabic and Persian, and has ten vowels:

a (ا), o (و), e (ي), i (اِ), ȃ (اَ), ǎ (اُ), ā (آ), ū (اَو), ō (اُو), ǃ (اِي).

With regard to prefixes and suffixes, both languages show considerable similarity, though with slight differences (Parniola, 1997: 86). Several prefixes are identical in both languages, such as a, su, ku, nir or ni, and aņ.

The aspirated consonants in Sindhi and Pāli are largely identical, such as bh, gh, jh, th, kh, ch, dh, d̦h, lh, vh, mh, nh, and ņh. Overall, there is a high degree of similarity between the vowel and consonant systems of Pāli and Sindhi.

Genders, Cases, Numerals, and Gerunds

Pāli, like Sindhi, primarily employs two grammatical numbers—singular and plural—with only limited remnants of the dual, likely influenced by Sanskrit. It uses grammatical rather than natural gender (Bomhard, 2018: 9), similar to languages such as Brahui, Balochi, and English. Pāli has eight grammatical cases, whereas Sindhi has five, and recognizes three genders—masculine, feminine, and neuter (Bomhard, 2018: 9), compared to four in Sindhi. Noun, pronoun, and adjective declensions in Pāli are based on vowel and consonant endings and show strong similarities to Sindhi. Despite some differences in numeral formation, notable parallels remain (Bomhard, 2018: 47–48). Verbal tense formation, including participles and gerunds, is also largely similar in both languages (Bomhard, 2018: 53, 83).

Morphology

Morphology studies the internal structure and formation of words, examining how roots, prefixes, suffixes, and inflections combine to express grammatical meaning (Schemid, 2015: 1). The morphological systems of Pāli and Sindhi are closely related, differing only in minor respects, and both languages modify word forms to express categories such as gender, number, case, tense, and person.

Sindhi words are classified into primary (simple) and secondary forms, a division that also applies to Pāli (Rahman, 2009: 74). Examples of primary words include Sindhi Akk (اڪ) “a plant” and Pāli Citta (Sindhi چِتُ) “mind.” Secondary words include complex and compound forms. Complex words are formed through prefixes and suffixes; for instance, Sindhi Lajju (لڄ) “shame,” with the prefix Nir-“without,” becomes Nirlajjo (بي شرم) “shameless,” and with the suffix -ai forms Nirlajjai (نِر لڄائي / نرجائي / نرڄائي) “shamelessness,” corresponding to Pāli Nīrlajjatā (Rahman, 2009).

Nouns (Gender and Number)

Pāli:

Kāko (nominative singular masculine) means “crow.”

Kākā (nominative plural masculine) means “crows.”

Sindhi:

ڪانءُ (Kānū / Kākā) means “crow” (singular masculine).

ڪانءَ (Kānū) means “crows” (plural masculine).

Verbs (Tense and Person)

Pāli:

Gacchati means “he/she goes” (present tense, third person).

Agamāsi means “he/she went” (past tense, third person).

Sindhi:

هيءُ ڪري ٿو (kare tho) means “he does” (present tense, third person).

ڪنداسين (kandāsīn) means “we will do” (future tense, first person plural).

Adjectives (Agreement)

Pāli:

Sappuriso means “a good man” (masculine).

Sappurisā means “good women” (feminine).

Sindhi:

سٺو (sutho) means “good” (masculine).

سٺي (suthi) means “good” (feminine).

Compound Morphology

Pāli:

Dhamma + desanā → dhammadesanā (“teaching of the Dhamma”).

Sindhi:

Hatho + kar̦i → Hathkar̦i (هٿڪڙي) (Rahman, 2009: 74).

Syntax of the Sentence

The sentence structure in Pāli and Sindhi is the same, following the Subject–Object–Verb (SOV) order.

Pāli: Buddho dhammaṃ deseti.

Sindhi: Buddh dharamo d̦asey tho.

(ٻُڌ ڌرم ڏَسي ٿو)

Pāli: Satthā āyasmante āmanteti.

Sindhi: Ustad mūʿziz bhikshun khe khitāb karey tho.

(استاد معزز ڀِڪشُن کي خطاب ڪري ٿو)

Pāli: Ācariyo dārake sikkhāpeti.

Sindhi: Ustad bāṛan khe sikhāre tho.

(استاد ٻارن کي سيکاري ٿو)

Conclusion

This study demonstrates a strong linguistic affinity between Pāli and Sindhi, with over 40% shared vocabulary, often retaining identical meanings and closely related pronunciation. Parallels in phonology, morphology, grammar, and syntax further confirm their close relationship. These similarities suggest either that Pāli developed as a branch of Sindhi or that both languages emerged as parallel descendants of a common linguistic source. As Pāli functioned primarily as a religious language rather than a native vernacular, and Buddhism prevailed in Sindh until the seventh century CE, sustained contact between the two languages is likely. Additionally, Sindhi shares significant lexical and structural features with Proto-Dravidian and Dravidian languages, indicating deep historical roots. Consequently, Sindhi should not be viewed as a relatively recent Indo-Aryan language but as one with origins extending to the Proto-Dravidian period.

Read: Influence of Sanskrit on Sindhi language

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The post Sindhi and Pāli: A comparative Study first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Topical and Prospective Issues of Philology

nasiraijaz — Tue, 04 Nov 2025 00:02:22 +0000

International Conference in Termiz discusses current challenges and developments in modern linguistics, literary studies, translation, and foreign language teaching methodology

By Dilnoza Rakhimova, Termiz State University

Termiz, Uzbekistan

The Youth Center of Termiz city and the Faculty of Foreign Philology at Termiz State University hosted the International Scientific-Practical Conference “Topical and Prospective Issues of Philology.”

The event was organized by the Ministry of Higher Education, Science and Innovation of the Republic of Uzbekistan, Termiz State University, and M. Auezov South Kazakhstan State University. It brought together scholars, professors, and students from around the world, representing the United States, Kenya, the Philippines, Germany, Iran, Afghanistan, India, Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan.

The main goal of the conference was to discuss current challenges and developments in modern linguistics, literary studies, translation, and foreign language teaching methodology, as well as to develop new proposals and recommendations in these fields.

The conference focused on four major directions: Linguistics and Linguoculturology, Literary Studies and Cultural Research, Language Teaching Methodology, and Translation Studies and Intercultural Communication

More than 500 scholars and researchers submitted their scientific papers for inclusion in the official conference proceedings, presenting their latest findings, ideas, and innovations in various areas of philology and linguistics.

In her welcoming remarks, the Dean of the Faculty of Foreign Philology highlighted the importance of international cooperation in promoting research and encouraging young scholars to share their academic achievements with the global community.

The event not only provided a platform for exchanging ideas but also strengthened international academic ties between universities. The participants noted that such conferences serve as a bridge between scientific traditions and modern approaches in education and research.

On October 31, guests were offered a cultural tour around Termiz and the Surkhandarya region, visiting its historical monuments and landmarks, which helped international participants experience Uzbekistan’s rich cultural heritage firsthand.

The conference concluded with a mutual commitment to continue collaboration and organize similar international academic events in the coming years.

Read: Structuring Native Language Lessons

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(Photos by Termiz State University Media Department)

The post Topical and Prospective Issues of Philology first appeared on Sindh Courier.

The best books on Endangered Languages

nasiraijaz — Fri, 04 Jul 2025 02:42:43 +0000

Out of 7000 languages on the planet, 700 of them can be found in New York, and many of those are endangered – Samantha Ellis

There is usually a lot of violence and displacement in the stories of these languages becoming endangered.

The monolingual empire drains the energy from other cultures

Samantha Ellis’s book Chopping Onions on my Heart: on losing and preserving culture is out now. It will be published in the US in 2026 as Always Carry Salt. She’s also the author of How to be a Heroine and Take Courage: Anne Brontë and the Art of Life. Her plays include How to Date a Feminist. She lives in London.

Of the world’s 7000 languages, around half are expected to be extinct by the end of this century. Samantha Ellis’s mother tongue is one of them. We asked her to reflect on what we lose when we lose a way of speaking—culturally, linguistically, emotionally—and to recommend five books about endangered languages.

Interview by Cal Flyn, Deputy Editor

Thank you for recommending these five books on endangered languages. Perhaps you’d begin by telling us a little bit about why you are interested in this subject.

I grew up with an endangered language as my mother tongue. Or, at least, the language that my parents speak and spoke to me as a child. The idea of a ‘mother tongue’ is argued over by linguists—some people say it’s the first language you speak, some say it’s the language your mother speaks to you. The Moroccan author and translator Ghita el Khayat has this idea of a ‘milk language,’ that you take in along with your milk.

So I grew up listening to and trying to speak Judaeo-Iraqi Arabic, the language of my community, the Iraqi Jews. And I’ve always been drawn to learning about other endangered languages as a result.

I read a statistic that suggested that around half of the 7000 languages spoken today will be extinct by the end of this century. Why is it important to preserve these languages?

Well, many people think it isn’t. But I think it is.

A lot of the arguments made are for knowledge. For example, languages might have names for things that encode their uses. So it’s possible there could be cures for illnesses that we don’t know about because they are named in languages that have not been translated. That’s an argument a lot of people use.

Others talk about diversity in general, which I think is a huge argument. I mean, I would like to have the cures, but I also don’t like the idea of stripping languages for parts and only using what’s useful. I think that the more languages the better, the more diversity of expression the better.

It’s also, I think, really important for the speakers of those languages. There was a famous Canadian study that showed that young indigenous people who learned to speak their ancestral languages were much less likely to commit suicide. It’s really important for people to connect to the languages spoken in our families and communities, even if we might not be fluent.

I also feel negative about the flattening out of culture that happens with languages funnelling and narrowing down. There are so few that are now used in the world.

I can see how, if you are part of a minority community within a larger culture, it might be a strategic decision to teach your child to speak the more common tongue. But that must have an erosive effect, culturally speaking.

Absolutely. And with language go stories. Yes, you can translate those stories and tell them in a different language, but there is often something vibrant lost. With a language goes a sort of vibe, a style, a mode of speaking. So I do think it quite devastating that so many languages will be lost.

Shall we look at your recommended books on endangered languages? Let’s begin with Language City by Ross Perlin.

This is a wonderful book that is completely unlike all other books about endangered languages. Ross Perlin works at the Endangered Language Alliance in New York city, which is working to reclaim, revitalize and preserve languages. They are not interested in mourning or lamenting.

So many of these books are about tracking down the last speaker, and, when you finally find them, they can only say one word and no one knows what it means. But if you read Perlin’s book, it’s full of life. It’s radical. It’s exciting.

Out of those 7000 on the planet, 700 of them can be found in New York, and many of those are endangered, because this is where refugees have ended up. He describes an apartment block-which he calls ‘a vertical village’-where 100 people speak Seke, a language from Nepal. There are only 700 speakers of Seke worldwide. These 100 speakers are in New York, they’ve been transplanted, but they are keeping it alive.

He talks about Lenape, the language spoken in Manhattan before it was settled. He says that there would be a sort of magical justice if New Yorkers were all suddenly speaking Lenape. It’s a book that’s full of humour. At one point, the wonderful woman who is trying to keep Lenape alive gets a parking ticket and she jokes that maybe she should say: It’s my ancestral land, I’m not going to pay it. I love that.

I love the whole approach to keeping it alive, speaking it, connecting through it, and just enjoying the richness of it. He describes walking down the street in the borough of Queens, and just how many languages he hears in a short walk. Someone needs to do this for London.

Your description of the apartment block makes me think of how different plant species, which might not be particularly numerous in their home environment, can spread sometimes into a new place and go wild. There’s always potential.

It’s very positive in that way. This is a book about movement and migration, transplantation and displacement. It’s an exciting, optimistic book about endangered languages.

Your second book recommendation is Poems from the Edge of Extinction, edited by Chris McCabe. It gathers together 50 poems in languages from around the world.

I just love this book. These languages have hardly any speakers, but some of them have poets—multiple poets. I think that’s an amazing testament to how much people love these languages. They might not even speak it fluently, but they are writing poetry in it.

The diversity of languages covered in this book is extraordinary, from African languages like Bubi to European languages like Basque. There’s Yiddish, Welsh, Scottish Gaelic, Scots—Jackie Kay has got a love poem. Middle Eastern languages like Assyrian. Maori. It’s just an extraordinary glimpse into the different ways people are using language in creative ways around the planet.

Again, rather than read about how sad it is that these languages could be lost, it’s exciting to read a poem in one of them, then a translation. One of them, in the South Arabian language Bathari—which is spoken in Oman—is about someone turning up in the night in search of news. At the end it says:

For we are doing perfectly well / And are in excellent health

There was something about that—that assertion of creativity and competence and boldness—that was quite exhilarating.

I was interested to read in your book of how much of Yiddish has been preserved thanks to its its very strong publishing tradition. And in my home country, Scotland, we have a number of dialects, but the Gaelic language has found recent resurgence in primary school education—many children, including my own niece and nephew, have become fluent after the language skipped several generations. It’s interesting how languages might bubble up again unexpectedly.

Absolutely. In my book I discuss how languages that have been dead for years can spring back to life. You find the Rosetta Stone, and suddenly you’re translating hieroglyphs. Suddenly we knew what ancient Egyptians were saying to each other! Similarly, with Akkadian, an Iraqi language that was silent for millennia, we suddenly had the Epic of Gilgamesh, which is a great foundational myth and an amazing story that we had lost for so long.

Ross Perlin says you can be a ‘keeper’ as well as a ‘speaker’—that you might do something that could allow future generations to speak. You might be an archivist of your own language and stories, and keep them for the next generation.

Your next book recommendation takes an interesting approach to the subject of endangered languages. Tell me about One & Everything by Sam Winston. It’s very beautiful.

Yes, it’s a picture book. It’s really more about endangered alphabets than endangered languages, but some of these alphabets are from endangered languages. One story swallows all the others, but the others can still be found within this one story. I thought that was very powerful.

English is a magpie language. We borrow from so many different languages, including Arabic and Yiddish. All these words have filtered into English. Sam Winston uses 50 scripts to illustrate his book, including cuneiform. So it’s really lovely.

I bought it to read to my son when he was about six. I wanted to explain what an endangered language was—how his grandparents speak a language that will be dead by the time he grows up. So I bought this picture book, and we found it really helpful.

Judaeo-Iraqi Arabic is an interesting example, because I believe it has been recorded via a number of different alphabets.

Yes. When my son was about two, I was talking to a French mother in a playground. She said she was bringing up her child bilingual. I said I wanted to send my son to the French nursery down the road, because it would be nice for him to be bilingual too. She said: But you’re not French! Why don’t you send him to a nursery for your language? I found myself saying that my language was dead, then I absolutely burst into tears. For years I couldn’t go back to that playground, because I really did make a bit of a scene.

After that, I started researching. Everyone originally told me that Judaeo-Iraqi Arabic is always written in Hebrew. This made no sense to me, because my grandmother, who was then in her nineties, didn’t read or speak Hebrew. So how could she be writing it?

It seems that, originally, it was written in the Hebrew alphabet but, later on, women who were writing didn’t necessarily have the religious education in Iraq, so they were writing in the alphabet they used the rest of the time—the Arabic script. Then, as people became more secular, more people wrote in Arabic.

But it wasn’t written down much; it was mainly an oral language. When Iraqi Jewish writers wrote books, they wrote it either in fusha, which is classical Arabic, or in the languages where they ended up. So there are lots of books by Iraqi Jews in French and English and Hebrew.

If you are in a small language group, you are almost by definition going to be absorbing and changing and moving. That’s what your language will do with you. It adapts to your life.

My family in Iraq were always code switching. They’d leave the house and go straight into the Muslim Arabic, the Iraqi Arabic that was more generally spoken. And then if they were writing or reading textbooks at school, they would be using Modern Standard Arabic. Then They’d come home and go straight into the Jewish dialect.

Some people call it a language, others a dialect. I think in a small language you are always absorbing words, but there’s a beautiful reason for that—which is that everyone is talking to everyone else. I think we get quite fixated on whether something is a language or a dialect. You know—the purity of a language. But actually we are always borrowing words from other languages all the time and from other people. Even in this conversation I will have heard something you say—a turn of phrase—and a few days later I will probably use it, and vice versa. That’s how language works.

Certainly, in Iraq, everyone was speaking to everyone else and all the languages borrowed from each other. The Jews came to Iraq in 597 BCE, and they were speaking Hebrew. They switched to the local language, Aramaic, but they carried over all these Hebrew constructions and words. Then, when the Arab Conquest came, everyone switched to Arabic, but again they carried over a lot of Aramaic and Hebrew constructions and kept them.

That’s interesting. The same thing is true in Scotland—most people don’t speak Gaelic in the part of the Highlands where I’m from, but you can still hear echoes of it in the way local people construct sentences in English. I didn’t realise that until I went to some beginner Gaelic lessons. Shall I move us on to Rare Tongues by Lorna Gibb?

She’s a Scottish linguist! She started writing this book in London, then the pandemic happened, and she moved back to Scotland. She describes how her accent grew stronger and she relearned words she hadn’t used for a long time because English friends and colleagues couldn’t understand them. Like: dreich, is it?

Yes, dreich, meaning dull, overcast.

Yes. And ‘chapping’ the doors instead of knocking on them. So she describes how the process of writing this book about rare tongues, these endangered languages, was enriched by her return to Scotland and her Scottish roots. I think it would be a much less powerful book if she’d written the whole thing in London.

But her book is quite wide-ranging. She’s talking about whistling languages in the Canary Islands, she’s talking about New Zealand, Sri Lanka, all over the world.

What would you say her purpose is, what’s her thesis?

She’s exploring the complexity and diversity and richness of languages. There are short chapters on all sorts of things like language ecosystems, all the different sign languages from around the world, all the different whistling and click languages. You get a sense of the amazing chatter of the world. I found it quite powerful.

Thank you so much. Your final recommendation is a novel. This is R.F. Kuang’s Babel, which is a dark academia fantasy novel in which translation is used for imperial ends. What did you take form it?

Well, I wasn’t sure this would be allowed. It’s a brilliant novel about an alt-reality Victorian England where translation has actual power. If you find these pairs of words that almost mean the same thing but not quite, you can inscribe them on silver bars, and they generate energy. These silver bars are used to power industry. So the British Empire is bringing linguists from all the colonized countries, from the most far-flung places, but then these linguists rebel.

One of the things they do in the rebel stronghold is talk about how a great extinction event began on the day Christopher Columbus set foot in the new world. Since then, languages have been dying. Diversity of languages is essential to the running of this empire, but yet it is grinding them out.

There was something so powerful in how, in this fantasy novel, in this unlikely setting, she captures something incredible about what we are losing. Obviously we are not trying to power our empire with silver bars, but we are losing a richness.

There’s an amazing scene where all the rebel linguists are in Oxford. These people speak everything and love languages—they have mad combinations of languages that no one but a linguist would have learned. And that love of real, arcane languages has brought them together, and in fact is what makes them start a revolution. It’s a deceptively fun book.

I like that—linguistic diversity as a non-renewable resource. And the monolingual empire draining the energy from other cultures.

In linguistics there has been an anxiety about borrowing too many metaphors from the natural world. The linguists Aidan Pine and Mark Turin argued that, if you start talking about endangered languages in the way we talk about endangered species, it can imply an agentless process where it’s natural that things are dying out. But things don’t just die out. People don’t wake up one day and decide to speak a dominant language. There is usually a lot of violence and displacement in the stories of these languages becoming endangered.

Do you think writing your own book on the subject has brought you to a new acceptance or understanding of this process?

Certainly. I found writing the book incredibly emotional and difficult at times because I thought I was just going to write about language, but I ended up writing a lot more about the other things we let go of, or are taken away, and the decisions we do and don’t make about the culture we hang onto. So it became a bigger book, but I found the process of learning about what has been lost and what is being lost very connecting, very healing. I found this idea that I could be a ‘keeper.’ It really helped me, this idea, because I very fixated on being a speaker, on getting the language back as an adult. But, actually, if I can talk about the language and culture, and pass that on, that might be my role. And that might be worth doing.

Read – Muted Tongues: A Timeline of Suppressed Languages

________________

Courtesy: Five Books (Posted on July 1, 2025)

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Aspirated Consonants in Sindhi and Brahui

nasiraijaz — Wed, 25 Jun 2025 02:13:30 +0000

The comparative study reveals substantial phonological and syntactic similarities between the Sindhi and Brahui languages

Aziz Kingrani

This article presents a comparative analysis of aspirated consonants in the Sindhi and Brahui languages, with a focus on the phonological parallels between them. The study posits that the presence of similar aspirated consonants in Brahui, particularly those not traceable to Sanskrit or other Indo-Aryan sources, indicates a direct phonetic and lexical influence from Sindhi. Through etymological analysis and comparative phonology, the research highlights that a significant number of Brahui lexical items containing aspirated sounds are of Sindhi origin. Furthermore, it explores historical and sociolinguistic factors that may have facilitated this phonological convergence. Although Sindhi is currently classified as an Indo-Aryan language, it retains substratal influences from Dravidian and Proto-Dravidian languages. Brahui, traditionally considered a Dravidian language, is geographically isolated from the other Dravidian languages of South India. This study contributes to the broader discourse on areal linguistics and language contact in South Asia by emphasizing the aspiratic influence of Sindhi on Brahui.

The language of the Indus Valley Civilization (IVC) is widely hypothesized to have been Dravidian in nature, with Mohenjo-Daro—located in present-day Sindh—as a key center (Virkerk, 2018). Among the Dravidian languages, Brahui is the only one spoken in Pakistan, with its speakers primarily located in Balochistan but also present across districts of Sindh (Shakir, 2015). Given the geographical and historical proximity between Sindhi and Brahui speakers, it is plausible that the Sindhi language has exerted significant phonological and lexical influence on Brahui.

It is believed by some scholars that Brahui speakers migrated westward from the Indus region during the Aryan invasion. As a result, Brahui retained its Dravidian structure with limited Indo-Aryan influence for a significant period. Some researchers suggest that Brahui speakers may have arrived from India around a thousand years ago (Kolichala, 2015). Simultaneously, linguistic data indicates Dravidian loanwords in Indo-Aryan languages dating back to the Middle Rigvedic Period (c. 1200 BCE), suggesting a possible area of contact in present-day Sindh (Kolichala, 2015). Proto-Dravidian elements in Brahui substantiate its antiquity.

Dravidian and Proto-Dravidian Lexicon

Examples of Proto-Dravidian (PDr) words present in Brahui include:

Xarãs (Kharãs) – “bull” (PDr kaṭac)
Heṭ – “she-goat”; Malṭ – “son”
Nìr – “water” (often misinterpreted as “blood” by Kolichala); Dìr as a phonetic variant meaning “water” (cf. Nìr in Sindhi, meaning both “water” and “tears”)

These examples demonstrate the persistence of Proto-Dravidian roots in Brahui, and their parallels in Sindhi lend credence to sustained linguistic interaction.

Aspirated Consonants in Brahui and Sindhi

Aspirated consonants are speech sounds articulated with a forceful burst of air. Brahui contains voiced aspirated consonants such as gh, jh, dh, bh, which are not native to Persian or Arabic. Their presence in Brahui has traditionally been attributed to Indo-Aryan influence (Krishnamurti, 2003), but this paper argues that Sindhi, rather than Hindi or Sanskrit, is the more likely source due to its proximity and stronger historical interaction.

Steever (1998) notes that Malayalam also contains similar voiced aspirates, e.g., bhāram (weight), indicating a broader Dravidian capacity to integrate such sounds. Hafizullah Sarporah (2017) states that aspirated consonants in Brahui emerged through contact with Hindi. However, given the linguistic history of the region, it is more probable that Sindhi played the primary role in this phonological transfer.

Examples of Aspirated Consonants in Brahui and Their Sindhi Counterparts:

Bh (بھ، ڀ)
Bhalo (Br) – “big”
Bhãz (Br) – “a lot”
Th (تھ، ٿ)
Thar (Br) – “to slaughter”; Thri-aa – “horned”
Thãl (Br) / Thãlh (Sd) – “kneading vessel”
Thamb (Br) / Thanbh (Sd) – “pillar”
Ṭh (ٹھ، ٺ)
Thope (Br) / Tope (Sd) – “cap”
Thap (Br, Sd) – “wound”
Jh (جھ)
Jhatt (Br, Sd) – “sudden, sometime”
Jhamar (Br) – “cloud”
Chh (چھ، ڇ)
Chutaf (Br) / Chutto (Sd) – “ended”
Chuna, Chiva, Churo (Br) – “little”, “when”, “urine”
Kh (خ)
Yakh (Br) / Yakh (Sd) – “cold”
Khan (Br) – from PDr Kan – “eye”
Kano (Sd) – “one-eyed”
Dh (دھ، ڌ)
Dhul (Br) / Duhul (Sd) – “drum”
Dhar (Br) – “to descend”
Ḍh (ڈھ، ڍ)
Dhor (Br) / Dhoro (Sd) – “pond”
Dhagi (Br, Sd) – “cow”
Dher (Br, Sd) – “heap”
Dhul (Br) – “large bite”
Ph (پھ، ڦ)
Phagã – “tomorrow”
Phut – “hair”
Phal – “day after tomorrow”
Kh (کھ، ک)
Khad (Br) / Khadu (Sd) – “pit”
Khodãl (Br) / Kodar (Sd) – “digging implement”
Gh (گھ)
Gatt (Br) – “stuck”

Syntax

The syntactic structure of Brahui and Sindhi also shows similarities, particularly in their Subject-Object-Verb (SOV) word order:

Brahui: Anwar eragh kunek
Sindhi: Anwar ma’ani khãe tho
English: “Anwar eats a meal”

This syntactic parallel further supports the hypothesis of long-standing linguistic contact.

Conclusion

The comparative study reveals substantial phonological and syntactic similarities between the Sindhi and Brahui languages. The prevalence of aspirated consonants in Brahui—largely absent in native Dravidian phonology but common in Sindhi—indicates a significant influence from Sindhi. While Brahui has been influenced by Persian and Arabic as well, the aspirated consonants appear to be a product of its prolonged interaction with Sindhi. This analysis contributes to the broader understanding of language contact, diffusion, and convergence in South Asia.

References

Virkerk, Annemarie. (2018). Study of Dravidian Language Family.
Shakir, Nazir. (2015). Brahui va Balochi.
Kolichala, Suresh. (2015). Dravidian Languages and Linguistics.
Steever, B. Sanford. (1998). The Dravidian Languages. Routledge, London.
Sarporah, Hafizullah. (2017). Brahui aur Farsi Sarf-o-Nahv ka Taqabuli Mutalia.
Krishnamurti, Bhadriraju. (2003). The Dravidian Languages. Cambridge University Press.

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Read: Indus Script etched in Stones

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Beyond Words: The World Through Words

nasiraijaz — Thu, 12 Jun 2025 04:09:23 +0000

In a world rife with division and misunderstanding, learning another language is an act of hope and solidarity.

It is a bridge to the unfamiliar, a celebration of human diversity, and a declaration that connection matters more than comfort.
To learn a language is to listen more deeply, to speak more thoughtfully, and to live more fully

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

Imagine walking into a bustling market in Marrakech, a peaceful tea house in Kyoto, or a family kitchen in rural Sindh, and understanding not just the words spoken but the emotions behind them. Language is more than a tool for communication; it is the very key to unlocking the soul of a culture, the architecture of thought, and the path to deeper human connection. In an increasingly interconnected world, the ability to speak more than one language is no longer just an asset; it is a necessity. This article explores the cognitive, cultural, economic, educational, technological, and social significance of language learning, revealing why multilingualism matters more than ever in our global society.

Brain Boost: The Cognitive Benefits of Learning Languages

Numerous scientific studies have shown that learning languages enhances brain plasticity and improves overall cognitive function. According to research conducted at York University in Canada, bilingual individuals show greater mental flexibility, better problem-solving skills, and a delayed onset of dementia compared to monolingual peers. Learning languages activates multiple areas of the brain, improving memory, multitasking ability, and concentration.

Case Study: Ellen Bialystok, a psychologist and neuroscientist, studied aging adults and found that bilingual individuals developed Alzheimer’s symptoms 4.5 years later than monolingual individuals. These findings demonstrate that the brain functions more efficiently in people who switch between languages, essentially giving the brain a workout.

Building Cultural Bridges: Language as a Tool of Empathy and Understanding

Language is inseparable from culture. When we learn another language, we also learn new ways of seeing the world. It creates bridges between communities and fosters empathy by offering a window into other people’s beliefs, humor, and worldviews.

Case Study: When Swedish student Anna moved to Pakistan to work on a development project, she made a deliberate effort to learn Urdu. Her ability to communicate with locals not only improved her project’s impact but also earned her deep respect from the community. “When you speak to someone in their language,” she noted, “you speak to their heart.”

Moreover, multilingual individuals often demonstrate greater cross-cultural sensitivity. This can be crucial in conflict resolution, diplomacy, and even everyday interactions in multicultural societies.

Economic Edge: Languages in the Global Job Market

In the era of globalization, knowing more than one language opens doors to a wider range of career opportunities. From international business to translation, tourism, diplomacy, and journalism, the demand for multilingual professionals is growing. According to a report by New American Economy, job postings in the U.S. requiring bilingual skills more than doubled between 2010 and 2020.

Case Study: Rehan Ahmed, a Pakistani software engineer fluent in English, Urdu, and German, was hired by a Berlin-based tech firm over equally qualified monolingual applicants. His multilingual abilities enabled him to coordinate projects across teams in Germany, Pakistan, and the U.S., making him an indispensable asset.

Moreover, economies with higher rates of bilingualism, such as Switzerland and Luxembourg, tend to be more resilient and globally competitive. Language skills, therefore, contribute not only to individual prosperity but also to national economic health.

Academic Success and Early Language Education

Children who learn multiple languages from an early age often perform better academically. Bilingual education has been associated with improved literacy, greater attention control, and enhanced executive function. Multilingual children tend to score higher in standardized tests and show greater creativity.

Countries like Finland and the Netherlands incorporate multiple languages into their school curricula from early childhood. Research suggests that children are most receptive to learning languages before the age of seven, yet most education systems delay serious language instruction until middle or high school.

Case Study: In a small school in rural Sindh, an NGO introduced Sindhi, Urdu, and English from grade one. Within three years, literacy and comprehension scores soared, and students began outperforming their peers in neighboring monolingual schools. This demonstrates the academic power of early multilingual exposure.

Preserving Identity and Reviving Endangered Languages

Languages carry cultural heritage, ancestral knowledge, and identity. When a language dies, a unique worldview disappears. Learning and promoting indigenous or endangered languages is vital for preserving the diversity of human expression.

According to UNESCO, nearly 43% of the world’s 6,000 languages are endangered. Efforts are being made globally to reverse this decline.

Case Study: In New Zealand, the revival of the Maori language through immersive language nests (kohanga reo) has revitalized a once-endangered cultural heritage. Similarly, efforts to revive the Sindhi language in Pakistan through digital learning platforms and community-based programs have helped younger generations reconnect with their roots.

Language Learning in the Age of Technology

The digital revolution has transformed how we learn languages. Apps like Duolingo, Babbel, and Memrise, along with platforms like YouTube and Zoom, have made language education more accessible than ever. AI-based language tutors can now personalize lessons, track progress, and simulate immersive conversations.

However, technological convenience should not replace human interaction. Machine translation tools, while helpful, lack the cultural nuance and emotional depth that real human communication offers.

Case Study: Mariam, a Syrian refugee in Sweden, learned Swedish using a combination of Duolingo and community conversation circles. The app helped her with vocabulary and grammar, while in-person practice allowed her to grasp humor, idioms, and social etiquette. Today, she works as a bilingual interpreter.

Language and Migration: A Pathway to Belonging

For immigrants and refugees, language is a crucial tool for integration and dignity. It impacts access to healthcare, education, employment, and social participation. When people learn the language of their new home, they are more likely to thrive economically and socially.

Case Study: A study conducted in Germany found that refugees who completed intensive language courses had employment rates nearly double those who didn’t. Moreover, their self-reported well-being and sense of belonging were significantly higher.

Language programs tailored to the needs of migrants can make the difference between social exclusion and meaningful inclusion.

Language, Thought, and Perception: Does Language Shape Reality?

The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis suggests that the structure of a language influences its speaker’s worldview. For instance, some languages have dozens of words for colors, snow, or emotions, while others have none. This theory supports the idea that learning new languages expands our cognitive and emotional range.

Example: In the Aboriginal language Guugu Yimithirr, directions are expressed in cardinal terms (north, south, east, west) rather than left or right. As a result, speakers have an exceptional sense of spatial orientation. Learning such languages challenges and reshapes our understanding of reality.

Inequalities in Language Access and Colonial Legacies

Not everyone has equal access to language learning opportunities. Socioeconomic disparities, colonial histories, and underfunded education systems often restrict linguistic diversity and reinforce language hierarchies. In many post-colonial countries, former colonial languages like English or French are seen as superior, creating barriers to local language preservation and identity.

Case Study: In Pakistan, English-medium education is often equated with prestige, while regional languages receive limited state support. This creates an unequal system where only elites benefit from multilingual education.

To promote linguistic justice, governments must invest in both local and global language education equitably.

Personal Growth and Human Connection

Learning a language is not just an academic pursuit—it is a journey of personal transformation. It teaches patience, humility, resilience, and curiosity. Most importantly, it connects people.

Story: During a solo trip to Italy, Hassan, a Pakistani traveler, struggled with Italian but kept trying. An elderly woman in Florence saw his efforts, smiled, and invited him for home-cooked pasta. “You are trying,” she said, “and that is beautiful.”

Language opens hearts, builds trust, and creates unexpected friendships. It makes us human.

Conclusion: Speak the Change You Wish to See

In a world rife with division and misunderstanding, learning another language is an act of hope and solidarity. It is a bridge to the unfamiliar, a celebration of human diversity, and a declaration that connection matters more than comfort. From cognitive gains and career advancement to cultural empathy and social inclusion, the benefits of multilingualism are profound and far-reaching.

To learn a language is to listen more deeply, to speak more thoughtfully, and to live more fully. Whether it is reviving a dying tongue or mastering a global one, every language learned is a thread that strengthens the tapestry of humanity. It is not just about mastering grammar or vocabulary—it is about mastering empathy, connection, and the courage to understand.

So go ahead, pick up that language book, download that app, join that community class. You are not just learning words; you are learning worlds.

Read: Fake Social Media IDs in Pakistan

________________

Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to

The post Beyond Words: The World Through Words first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Linguistic Diversity: The Rich Mosaic of Sounds & Rhythms

nasiraijaz — Sat, 22 Feb 2025 03:28:15 +0000

The importance of recognizing and appreciating linguistic diversity rather than judging people based on their accents

Foreign-accented individuals are often perceived as being less intelligent than individuals with an American accent

By Keerthana Gotur

“Accent by itself is a shallow measure of language proficiency, the linguistic equivalent of judging people by their looks. Instead, we should become aware of our linguistic biases and learn to listen more deeply before forming judgments. How large and how varied is the person’s vocabulary? Can she participate in most daily interactions? How much detail can he provide when retelling something? Can she hold her own in an argument?”

— Roberto Rey Agudo, “Everyone Has an Accent” – The New York Times

The Accent That Belongs to Nowhere

I sat in my Organic Chemistry class in sophomore year. The professor asked us a question, the answer to which was ‘arenes’. It was an answer I was fairly confident about, so I raised my hand high, fingertips outstretched, and she called on me.

“You over there, up in the third row,” which had been my name for the entire duration of the course. Not Keerthana, or KG, which I had mentioned to her on several different occasions.

‘Uh-ree-ns’ was what I was taught to pronounce it as. So that’s what I said, as loudly and clearly as possible. I received a quizzical stare from the professor in return.

“What was that?”

I repeated myself, trying to soften my Rs a little more in an attempt to mimic an American accent, and I felt a million stares focused on me, a million ears trying to decipher what I was saying.

“Alkenes?” she asked, the confusion in her voice amplified by her mic. Obviously, that wasn’t the answer, and I knew that wasn’t it, but now everyone in that 120-person room probably thought that I said that was the answer. My face burned like the sun and my mouth turned to sand, words sticking like pebbles in my throat. But I didn’t give up; I didn’t want to look more stupid than I already did. I nudged my white friend, who repeated my answer to the professor. She finally nodded in recognition, satisfied with my friend’s pronunciation, and moved on with her lesson. I couldn’t. I wanted to sink deep into my small chair in that lecture room, wishing those faded, musty cushions would swallow me. I knew that every one of those 120 people had just heard me embarrass myself, knew that they all likely were labeling me as ‘that one girl with the accent’.

I never wanted to speak up in that class anymore.

❉ ❉ ❉

Our knowledge of language comes from around us. Although my parents speak two different Indian regional languages, most times, my mother and father fire the two languages at each other in quick exchange, my mother’s melodic Tamil and my father’s robust Telugu dancing around each other without skipping a beat. Sometimes, when they talk to my younger sister and I, they speak in English. A less rhythmic English, one more rigid and less sing-song, but nevertheless an English with not-so-subtle influences of Indian enunciation.

English was ultimately the first language I learned, the language that bridged our polyglot family together. An American English. Having grown up in the diverse suburbia of Tarrytown, New York, I was taught how to pronounce vowels and the alphabet the American way at Montessori school, which trumped the pronunciations of my parents in the Indian way.

The Indian accent offers a rich mosaic of sounds and rhythms that are deeply influenced by the country’s rich linguistic diversity. So much so that our country has its own dialect of English. From consonants to vowels, every aspect of Indian English highlights how its 22 recognized regional languages shape this accent; depending on the letters in each language, certain sounds are amplified and certain sounds softened. Consonant endings, like words ending in -d, -t and -g, are especially emphasized in a staccato-like fashion, unlike the way they gradually fade out in American accents. They ring out at the end of each word with the sound of raindrops on a sheet of metal.

Most interestingly, however, is that some sounds are just completely changed if they don’t exist in the area’s regional language or dialect. For example, some regions develop a lack of distinction between the pronunciations of ‘v’ and ‘w’ because of the lack of the latter’s existence in many regional languages2. ‘z’ is often substituted for ‘j’, ‘aw’ sounds like ‘aa’, and so on. My friend doesn’t like ‘wegetables’ on his food; vaat is yuver faavirit type aaf pijja?

And this was the accent I found myself immersed in at the age of four, and the accent that my sister grew up with, when my family decided to move to the metropolitan city of Hyderabad, India. Our international 15-hour flight was a portal into a completely different world with different-looking people who all sounded different from me, even though we were speaking the same language, and singing the same songs. Like the alphabet song.

“Q R S, tee you vee,” my classmates and I sang together.

“W, X, Y and zee,” I sang. My classmates didn’t. In India, ‘Z’ was zedd, not zee.

While I was getting used to the presence of bidets and the absence of bathtubs in the bathrooms—or washrooms as one calls them in India—I was also busy switching my vocalized ‘h’ from ‘hay-ch’ to ‘heh-ch’. In the meanwhile, I was unconsciously getting the hang of the rhythms and melodies of Indian English, so quickly that I lost my American accent within a year. My only exception was the letter ‘z’: I refused to change it because ‘vee’ and ‘zedd’ don’t rhyme. Vee and zee do.

❉ ❉ ❉

Most of my classmates were born in India. Their first language, their mother tongue, was likely a regional Indian one. Naturally, those languages influenced the way they spoke English, especially with their rolling r’s and distinct pronunciations. My mother, however, insisted that I tell everyone my mother tongue was English. This always puzzled me, especially since her first language was Tamil. But the first language I truly learned was English, not Tamil; in hindsight, growing up with English as my first language probably prevented me from adopting those accent and pronunciation shifts typical of Indian English.

This seems to exist in every country with a non-English language. According to Asher and Garcia, the age at which a person begins learning a second language (the language in this case being English) affects accent retention. They found that most Cuban children who began learning English between the ages of 1 and 6 did not retain a Cuban accent, but the percentages of children retaining their accent increased as children learned English later.

However, foreign accents can sometimes be extinguished or mitigated depending on when English is learned.

“Undoubtedly the way one pronounced a word was a giveaway.”

Kalpana Mohan, author of An English Made in India: How a Foreign Language Became Local, was one such example. Born in South India, her English was laden with strong influences of Tamil and Malayalam. When she moved to Tanzania, where locals spoke English with a lilt of Swahili, she left the country with “an accent bereft of Indian regional cadences”. Mohan figured out soon enough that “there were as many English accents as there were colors of skin and that there were as many Englishes as there were places in the world… American English, Australian English, the English of the Caribbean, the English of parts of Africa.”4 And most importantly, Indian English, of which she—and I—are a part of, just like the thousands of English speakers from India.

Throughout my years of Indian schooling, I would often meet students like me, who moved with their families from the States to ‘properly experience India’. But most of us inevitably returned to America, usually in pursuit of our higher education. With us, we took abstract fragments of India like heirlooms we had accumulated over time. Some bring more than others; I brought with me

14 years’ worth of intangible relics that I will forever store in my mental museum. Words of camaraderie like ‘yaar’, and ‘bey’, words like ‘arrey’ that explain unexplainable emotions, words that creeped into my vocabulary along with those Indian enunciations that permanently buried themselves into my voice and speech.

I left India legally an American citizen and socioculturally an Indian immigrant; it was never a spectrum, but I felt I belonged somewhere in the middle.

❉ ❉ ❉

When we first landed back in the United States, my family moved into a predominantly South Asian community in Charlotte, North Carolina. Nothing like my diverse neighborhood in Tarrytown. We visited my family friends often, who spoke with the same rhythms and enunciations as I did, so I made the observation—and maybe too prematurely—that my Indian accent may not have been completely out of place in the United States.

But I was proven wrong.

When college began at the University of North Carolina, I spent my first couple of years there feeling isolated and misunderstood. My every word had to be twisted for the convenience of the listener, making it even harder to communicate than it already was with the tall, impenetrable wall of the cultural barrier. I often found myself stumbling through my words, developing a stutter that I never had experienced before. I felt the other person’s disinterest in continuing the conversation grow as they realized that I had to constantly repeat my words, sometimes even spell them out, for their clarity. My professors struggled to remember my name, even if I simplified it for them by just giving them my initials, and struggled even more to understand me when I asked or answered questions in class.

A study done by Dragojevic, Giles, and Watson shows that foreign-accented English speakers tend to be rated less favorably on various traits (like intelligence and friendliness) than native, standard-accented English speakers. But these attitudes aren’t just specific to this language; people from any country mostly favor their natives. For instance, Australian men see men with British English accents less favorably than men with Australian English accents. Similarly,

Guatemalans preferred sales pitches given by a person with a Guatemalan accent as opposed to a person with a Spanish accent.

And I guess Americans, like my sophomore-year Organic Chemistry professor, prefer answers from a person with an American accent as opposed to a person—like me—with an Indian accent.

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Sundays in India had their own rhythm, a lazy kind of energy that brought the family together in one place: the living room. We sat cross-legged on the cool floor, savoring the cool breeze of the air conditioning unit, as we aimlessly flipped through television channels in search of something to watch. More often than not, we’d settle on the ‘international’ channel, which usually featured The Simpsons and their yellow, bug-eyed characters.

One stood out to me more than the rest: Apu Nahasapeemapetilon. For a side character, he was hard to ignore, but I’m sure his impossibly long surname was easy to forget. What stood out more than his name, though, was his voice. His unbelievably exaggerated Indian accent cut through the dialogue, so perfectly timed with his racially stereotypical jokes that, to me, it was clear he existed to be the show’s comedic relief. I later found out he was voiced by a white, Jewish man, funnily enough. With every joke and every thickly-accented “Thank you, come again,” I didn’t know whether to laugh at him or at myself.

I wonder if that’s what I sound like to people?

Non-Indians weren’t the only ones who made fun of that accent, to my surprise. My freshman-year roommate, an Indian by origin herself, turned my English into her favorite punchline. She would make it known if I pronounced something differently than what most people would say; within seconds, I’d hear her loud snickers and guffaws as she relayed what she heard to my roommates, poorly mimicking what I would say. Ironically, she told me that her immigrant parents spoke with the same accent I did, and that she would make fun of them too. Maybe they didn’t care. But sometimes I wondered if they, too, felt the need to carefully watch how they structured their words around her, the need to conform to the accent she spoke.

My sister, Krithi, couldn’t escape from the jeers either.

“My friends used to fake an Indian accent to make it sound funny,” she told me. She never found it funny.

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Going into my second semester of freshman year, I knew I needed to make a change. I had begun to feel the pressure of conforming—the very human need to assimilate into society. And so I began to whip my tongue into place, attempting to tame it into producing the soft consonants that I heard in everyone’s voice. The best form of accent practice proved to be my involvement with my university’s student-led-and-ran newspaper. I’ve spent hours recording interviews with students, faculty, virtually anyone who would talk to me. Each one felt like a test of my ability to reshape my words, to smooth the rough edges of my malleable speech. Somewhere in those dozens of audio files saved on my laptop is an inadvertent record of how my voice changed over the years, bit by bit, as I adjusted to life in North Carolina.

But even today, after three years of attempting to recreate my childhood accent and battling with the accent I developed over fourteen years in India, I still retain some of those Indian-isms. Somehow, to the ears of the average American, my ‘red’ sounds like ‘dead’, and when I spell my name, the T in my name becomes a P. So I spell my name the same way my immigrant parents do; K for kite, E for elephant, E for elephant, R for rat, T for Tom, and so on. My tongue still chooses to remain loyal to my Indian roots, refusing to give up those specific pronunciations as hard as I try. But its patriotism has been costing me my assimilation.

However, Krithi was different. Her Indian accent was the one she learned to speak English with, but all it took was a few months for her to leave it behind, burying it in the depths of her heart. So casually, as if it were nothing.

“How? Did you practice?” was all I could muster. There was no way she did.

“Maybe I did in India, when I was like, How do they pronounce certain things?” she said. That surprised me. She was never the kind to put in too much effort. For her, if it happened naturally, it happened; otherwise, it was never going to.

I wondered if there was something that motivated her to make the accent switch as quickly as she did. But her usual humor seemed to evaporate from her tone as she said that she didn’t have a choice. She said she felt like she wasn’t going to be respected as much as she was.

“I didn’t want to seem like a… stupid girl.”

Our experiences are not unusual. A 2017 research study showed that accents reduce comprehensibility, where stories told in ‘unfamiliar’ (Punjabi or Mandarin) accents were less understood. Things said by someone with a foreign accent are perceived to be less credible and are harder to recall. Everything, overall, contributes to the perception of foreign-accented individuals as being less intelligent than individuals with an American accent.

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Maybe in another country, you would be me. You would have never chosen to develop or retain your accent—it just happened without you having to think about it. You would’ve had the same intention in your words as someone else speaking in the more ‘socially accepted’ accent of that country. Yet, you would be at a disadvantage purely based on the way you pronounce a few vowels and consonants.

Over time, the constant judgment would start to erode your confidence in your abilities. Even though you’d know it’s the perception of you that’s flawed, you’d begin to question your own competence, wondering if the way you speak is the problem.

Wondering if you’re stupid like my sister said.

Read: A Tribute to the Fight for Linguistic Identity

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In Hyderabad, I was privileged enough to live next to a library, a haven where I’d spend countless hours engrossed in the literary world until the sun set. As I grew older, I found myself venturing over to the nonfiction section more often, ditching Harry Potter and Percy Jackson in hopes of developing a more sophisticated taste in books. Once, I picked out Kalpana Mohan’s book, wrapped in a thick, glossy transparent cover. As I took a stab at reading it, I felt my sixteen-year-old self losing interest in it. At the time, I was probably too unappreciative of Indian English to understand what she was talking about. After all, I was constantly made to believe that it was the inferior version of its American and British relatives.

Even though India gained independence from the British in 1947, the 200 years of colonialism had left its stain behind, one that lasts even today. English was a language that the British hoped would dissolve the barriers of mother tongue, place of birth, caste, or creed; unfortunately, according to Mohan, “the very divisions the best English tried to dispel began to build steep walls between groups of people.” Our international school in India witnessed this divide. The school I attended was no stranger to students who arrived from the United States with their strong American accents and their lack of Indian influence, and there was a palpable difference between those who had the American accent (the ‘posh’ kids) and those who didn’t. The non-Western nuances of Indian English were seen as imperfections that had to be hammered out and fixed to fit the satisfactory mold of ‘elite’ English that was taught at international schools in India. The English that was growing to resemble American English.

Coming to the United States, I witnessed an undeniable parallelism between the implication of speaking accented English, both in the United States and India, and the sense of superiority that seemed to come with speaking in an American accent.

“They make us seem like we’re stupid for having one,” Krithi retorted.

Why? With a language spoken so widely across the world, there was bound to be variation; regardless, English is English no matter how it’s spoken; there is no one true ‘authentic’ way to speak it. Or at least that’s how it should be.

But one must adapt. As my sister did, and I have learned to. My speech, although better than when I first moved to North Carolina, remains an imperfect illusion. It is one that is interspersed with occasional stutters and careful pauses in order for my tongue to catch a break, for my mind to remember how the next word should be pronounced, for my voice to mimic the right intonations, for my accent to sound believable enough.

When I speak to my family and friends from India, the façade crumbles. My voice is sixteen years old again before we left India, and I am back in a world where my words don’t need to be rehearsed. My tongue moves freely, unburdened by the weight of fitting in and the pressure to be understood. But Krithi’s fully-fledged American accent creeps into the Tamil and Telugu she attempts to speak with our relatives when we visit in the summers. Lately, she’s been the subject of our family’s jibes—” Oh, she’s barely Indian, so white-washed now!”—while I am lauded for my ability to still speak those regional languages with no hint of incorrect pronunciation.

And so I discovered that our accents while speaking English seemed to have become a measurement of our nationality, more than citizenship did. My sister fully embraced her new accent and my parents unapologetically held on to their original accents. But there I was, refusing—or unable—to relinquish my Indian accent, even if it meant it would seep into and contaminate the English I spoke in the United States. There I was, with my in-the-middle accent that belonged in neither country.

There I was, feeling like I belonged nowhere but in between.

Read: A Call to Preserve and Promote Linguistic Heritage

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Born in New York and brought up in Hyderabad, India, Keerthana Gotur is currently an undergraduate student at UNC Chapel Hill. As a Biology major, journalist, polyglot and music director-composer, she aspires to combine her love for storytelling, humanities and the arts with her interests in healthcare.

Courtesy: India Currents

The post Linguistic Diversity: The Rich Mosaic of Sounds & Rhythms first appeared on Sindh Courier.

A Tribute to the Fight for Linguistic Identity

nasiraijaz — Sat, 22 Feb 2025 00:54:39 +0000

Silver Jubilee of the International Mother Language Day

In 1948, the Government of Pakistan declared Urdu as the sole national language
India, too, witnessed a significant language movement. In 1965, as the country marked 15 years of independence, the then-Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri attempted to implement Hindi as the sole official language
Both the ‘Bengali Language Movement’ and ‘India’s Anti-Hindi Agitation’ highlight the profound emotional and cultural connection people have with their mother tongues

Dr. J Ravikumar Stephen G.

The Struggle for Bengali: The Origin of International Mother Language Day

In 1948, the Government of Pakistan declared Urdu as the sole national language, despite Bengali (Bangla) being the mother tongue of the majority in East and West Pakistan combined. This decision triggered widespread protests in East Pakistan, where people demanded that Bangla be recognized as one of the national languages alongside Urdu. The first formal demand was raised by Dhirendranath Datta in the Constituent Assembly of Pakistan on February 23, 1948.

In response, the Pakistani government imposed strict measures, banning public meetings and rallies. However, students from the University of Dhaka, backed by the general public, organized massive demonstrations. On February 21, 1952, police opened fire on protestors, killing Abdus Salam, Abul Barkat, Rafiq Uddin Ahmed, Abdul Jabbar, and Shafiur Rahman, and injuring hundreds more. This tragic event stands as a rare moment in history where people sacrificed their lives for the right to speak their mother tongue.

Read: An ‘Early Mistake’ of Pakistan

Recognizing this sacrifice, UNESCO declared February 21 as ‘International Mother Language Day’ on November 17, 1999, in tribute to the Bangladeshis (then East Pakistanis) who fought for linguistic freedom. Since February 21, 2000, the day has been observed globally to promote linguistic diversity and cultural heritage.

A Lasting Tribute: Moder Gorob

A permanent tribute to the martyrs of the “Bengali Language Movement” stands in front of the Bangla Academy in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Known as Moder Gorob (Our Pride – see the picture), these bronze busts, immortalizes the five language martyrs— Abdus Salam, Abul Barkat, Rafiq Uddin Ahmed, Abdul Jabbar, and Shafiur Rahman —who laid down their lives to defend their linguistic identity.

India’s Language Struggle: The 1965 Anti-Hindi Agitation

India, too, witnessed a significant language movement. In 1965, as the country marked 15 years of independence, the then-Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri attempted to implement Hindi as the sole official language. This move, supported by Madras State Chief Minister Bhaktavatsalam, sparked intense protests in Tamil Nadu, where Tamil-speaking citizens saw it as an imposition.

Students, political leaders, and the general public took to the streets in massive demonstrations. The Congress-led government responded with force, deploying police and later the military to quell the unrest. The ‘Dravida Parties” played a central role in the resistance, with many of its leaders, students, and even unaffiliated civilians choosing imprisonment over submission.

The agitation, which lasted 50 days, saw violent confrontations, attacks on Union government buildings, and severe casualties—about *400 people lost their lives* _(see the second pictures of some of the martyrs)_, and 2,000 were injured’. As the movement reached its peak, the Indian government was forced to reconsider, leading to the continued use of ‘English as an official language alongside Hindi’—a status that remains to this day.

The Power of Language Movements

Both the ‘Bengali Language Movement’ and ‘India’s Anti-Hindi Agitation’ highlight the profound emotional and cultural connection people have with their mother tongues. These struggles serve as a reminder that linguistic diversity is not just about communication—it is about identity, heritage, and the right to self-expression.

As we observe ‘International Mother Language Day’, let us honor those who fought for linguistic freedom and continue to celebrate and protect the rich diversity of languages worldwide.

Read – Bengali Language Issue: Tragic Happenings

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Dr. J Ravikumar Stephen G., is the Founder, Dravidianism Revival Centre, Peace Coalition of the People of South Asia, and Sages of the New Covenant. He is also the Presiding Bishop of General Convention of the Episcopal Churches in Southern and South Eastern Asia. The Dravidianism Revival Centre is located in Badlapur, Greater Thane Maharashtra, India.

The post A Tribute to the Fight for Linguistic Identity first appeared on Sindh Courier.

A Call to Preserve and Promote Linguistic Heritage

nasiraijaz — Fri, 21 Feb 2025 00:18:20 +0000

One-third of the world’s languages are in danger of disappearing in the next few decades, and out of 77 established languages in Pakistan, 27 are at risk—UNESCO

The rapid decline of languages is a serious issue that threatens cultural diversity and historical continuity

Pakistan must recognize the importance of its diverse languages and work toward their survival. Preserving languages is not just about words; it is about safeguarding the legacy of generations.

Aisha Khan

Every two weeks, a language dies—United Nations. When a language dies, much more than words are lost. Language is the dwelling place of ideas that do not exist anywhere else. It is a prism through which we see the world. These statements are indeed alarming and require urgent attention. There are multiple reasons why languages are dying so rapidly, and it is not just the death of a language but also the loss of culture, history, and identity, as Edward Sapir emphasized. By understanding the reasons behind this rapid language extinction, we can explore ways to preserve and help languages survive at the social level, national level, and through technology. Some reasons why languages are dying so rapidly are mentioned below.

As David Crystal highlights, a language dies when nobody speaks it anymore. When people stop using their native language in favor of a dominant language, it speeds up language extinction. One of the foremost reasons is that native speakers, seeking better jobs, education, and career opportunities, begin using the dominant language instead of their own. For example, Badeshi is left with only three speakers, while Abom, an African language, has only 15 speakers remaining. In America, 170 languages are near extinction, while in Asia, 78 languages are at risk. For social survival and better opportunities, parents encourage their children to learn and speak the dominant language. Speaking the dominant language helps children in school, allows them to mingle with their peers, and increases their chances of acceptance in society. More importantly, children develop better communication and academic skills in the dominant language, which is often seen as a necessity for future success. The priority given to languages like English for job opportunities also discourages people from using their native languages, as they see no scope for them in the professional world.

A language dies when nobody speaks it anymore. When people stop using their native language in favor of a dominant language, it speeds up language extinction

Then comes cultural assimilation and the influence of popular culture: cultural assimilation plays a major role in the decline of languages. People adopt the elite culture and its language to appear modern and be accepted in society. Take, for example, Pakistani society, where speaking English with precise pronunciation is considered a sign of sophistication. Reading English literature, watching English movies, or listening to English songs is often associated with being educated, wealthy, and belonging to the upper class. On the contrary, we keep our children completely detached from our own literature and mother tongue. The irony is that many parents take pride in their children reading foreign literature while neglecting their native literature. Exploring foreign literature is undoubtedly beneficial, as it expands one’s knowledge and understanding of different contexts and authors. However, prioritizing foreign literature at the cost of our own is alarming. Neglecting native literature means our younger generations are not introduced to their legends, history, and cultural narratives.

Language Prestige and Social Perception: the way language is perceived in society also contributes to its decline. People often strive to perfect their pronunciation and communication in dominant languages, which is not inherently bad. When speaking a language, it is important to pronounce words correctly—whether in Urdu, Punjabi, Sindhi, or any other language, as each language has the right to be spoken in its correct form. However, if people struggle with pronunciation due to phonetic differences, they should not be mocked. Some phonemes are naturally difficult for non-native speakers, and some individuals may not want to adopt certain pronunciations. To maintain the prestige of a language, many parents choose to speak the dominant language with their children, so they develop better pronunciation and accents. This shift often leads to a decline in the number of speakers of their mother tongue, as native languages are sidelined in favor of more socially prestigious ones.

Then comes cultural assimilation and the influence of popular culture: cultural assimilation plays a major role in the decline of languages. People adopt the elite culture and its language to appear modern and be accepted in society.

Globalization and Its Impact on Language Survival

Globalization has further accelerated the process of language extinction, especially for languages that are not widely used or recognized in social contexts. English, in particular, has become the dominant language in every sphere of life, from education to business. In such an environment, speakers tend to choose languages that offer more opportunities and are more widely used. As a result, lesser-known languages become increasingly irrelevant in daily life, leading to their gradual disappearance.

Out of the many ways to preserve and promote languages, some are outlined below.

Celebrate Linguistic Diversity – Languages are like flowers, each has its own scent, shape, and beauty, reminding us of the richness of diversity. We should stop judging people based on their ability to pronounce dominant languages perfectly. Due to societal pressure, many parents discourage their children from learning their mother tongue, fearing that they will not be accepted if they do not master the dominant language. However, language and cultural diversity are natural and should be celebrated. Embracing linguistic diversity fosters harmony and tolerance, ultimately leading to a more inclusive society. By encouraging native speakers to use their language and pass it on to the next generation, we can help prevent languages from disappearing.

Implementing Language Policies in Education — State policies can play a crucial role in language preservation. One effective approach is to include native languages in the school curriculum as optional subjects. A language course can be introduced that covers all established languages in Pakistan. Through recorded lectures, videos, and other technological resources, learning these languages can be made more accessible and engaging. This initiative will give speakers of all languages a sense of recognition and acceptance. It would also encourage them to use their mother tongue, understanding its cultural and historical significance.

Read: A mother tongue Partition consumed intact: The depletion and revival of Sindhi language and culture

Establishing a National Language Authority — a dedicated language authority at the national level can work towards the preservation of all languages in Pakistan. Such an institution could document endangered languages through written records, dictionaries, and digital archives. Organize language preservation campaigns involving native speakers. Encourage linguistic research to explore the structure and evolution of Pakistan’s diverse languages.

Moreover, it will promote linguistic inclusivity at the national level, fostering a sense of belonging for all language communities. By creating such an institution, we can ensure that native languages are given the recognition and support they deserve, strengthening Pakistan’s cultural identity.

Using Technology to Preserve Languages – Technology offers powerful tools to protect and promote endangered languages. Some effective measures include developing digital archives and online dictionaries to document and preserve languages. Also, creating mobile applications for language learning to make native languages accessible to younger generations and launching social media campaigns to encourage the use of indigenous languages. With these technological advancements, we can bridge the gap between traditional languages and modern communication, ensuring their continued use and relevance.

It is evident that the rapid decline of languages is a serious issue that threatens cultural diversity and historical continuity. As Nelson Mandela once said, “Language is the most powerful instrument of preserving and developing our tangible and intangible heritage.” Losing a language means losing a rich tapestry of traditions, knowledge, and identity. By fostering linguistic diversity, integrating native languages into education, establishing a national language authority, and leveraging technology, we can take meaningful steps toward preserving our linguistic heritage. As a nation, Pakistan must recognize the importance of its diverse languages and work toward their survival. Preserving languages is not just about words; it is about safeguarding the legacy of generations.

Read: Multilingualism, Mother Tongue and Sindhi Language

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The writer, hailing from Hyderabad, Sindh, holds a Bachelor of Science degree in English Linguistics from the University of Sindh, Jamshoro. Currently, her primary focus is on preparing for competitive examinations, driven by her ambition to become a distinguished Civil Service Officer (CSP). Beyond her academic pursuits, she is an emerging researcher, poet, and writer with a burgeoning portfolio of essays and research articles. As a serious reader, she explores various genres from a wide range of English and Urdu literature writers. Additionally, she is serving as a teacher.

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