What Is Hindustani?

What Is Hindustani?

(This talk was broadcast from the All India Radio station, Delhi, on 21 February 1939.)

The word "Hindustani" has become a hornets' nest these days. Now that the All India Radio station has stirred up this nest, it must be ready to bear the stings too. No authoritative poet or writer of ours, and no native speaker, ever used the word Hindustani in the sense of a language. It is the invention of the Europeans. The European travellers who began to come to this country from the seventeenth century gave the language commonly spoken in North India the names Indostan, Indostani and later Hindustani. But the word gained currency in the time of the East India Company, when the College of Fort William was founded in Calcutta in 1800. The strange thing is that the English teachers of the College called Hindustani the language in which were written Mir Amman's *Bagh-o-Bahar*, Sher Ali Afsos's *Araish-e-Mahfil*, Haidari's *Tota Kahani* and Tapish's *Bahar-e-Danish*, but the writers of these books called the language of their books *Urdu-e-Mu'alla*, *Rekhta* or Hindi. For example, Mir Amman presented his book *Bagh-o-Bahar ya Qissa-e-Chahar Darvesh* with a petition in which he writes that he "made the *Bagh-o-Bahar* in the language of Urdu-e-Mu'alla", and at the end of that petition is this couplet: "So I adorned it in the tongue of Urdu; I have made Bengal into Hindustan." In the preface of this book, when giving the history of the language, he writes: "I heard the truth about the Urdu language from the lips of my elders thus." Mir Sher Ali Afsos writes in *Araish-e-Mahfil* that he "began to write all its matter in the Urdu language."

Mirza Tapish in *Shams-ul-Bayan* calls his language the daily speech of the eloquent of Urdu-e-Mu'alla, and in his *Bahar-e-Danish*, which is in Hindi, he writes "the Hindi language" in one line of a single couplet and "Urdu" in the other: "He gave honour to the Hindi tongue; he gave this rank to Urdu verse"; and a few couplets later he calls it Rekhta: "In subtleties is all of Rekhta…" Haidar Bakhsh Haidari calls the language of the *Qissa-e-Hatim Ta'i* Rekhta. Mir Amman in *Ganj-e-Khubi* calls Gilchrist "the appreciator of Urdu". Mehr Chand Khatri of Lahore writes in his book *Nau A'in-e-Hindi* that he translated the tale of Azar Shah and Saman Rukh from Persian into Hindi. Dr John Gilchrist uses both words, Hindustani and Urdu, for this one language in his works. So does Garcin de Tassy, though he mostly uses the word Hindustani. Babu Shiv Prasad too called the language of *Jam-e-Jahan Numa* Urdu. On the title page of the translation of the Holy Gospel printed by the Calcutta Baptist Mission it is written, "Translated from the Greek language into the Urdu language", but below it, in English, is written "In the Hindustani Language". Babu Kashi Nath Biswas Kirani writes on the title page of his book *Qissa-e-Sohan*, called *Guldasta-e-Anjuman*: "Translated from English into Urdu." Dr E.

J. Lawrence in his translation of *Robinson Crusoe*, Mr James Corcoran in his *History of China* and Dr Frederick John in his *Principles of Anatomy* all call their language Urdu. In the same way, on all the books printed by Delhi College, the Aligarh Scientific Society and the Mirzapur series, the word Urdu is written. In short, all the books I have named are in the language that is now called Urdu. The English called it Hindustani. By Hindustani they meant the clean and eloquent language used in speech, that is, a language that was not rhymed and ornate, in the manner found in some books of that time. Urdu, Rekhta and Hindi were words of the same meaning at that time. So Mirza Jan Tapish in his book *Shams-ul-Bayan* defined Hindi in these words: "Hindi is the measured language of Delhi" [TN: Persian], that is, by Hindi is meant the eloquent language of Delhi. The modern Hindi which is being spread nowadays is the product of the new age. It was born in the College of Fort William, Calcutta. In fact it is the child of Urdu, in this way: the Arabic and Persian words were taken out and Sanskrit words set in their place. In short, our literature is empty of the word Hindustani.

No authoritative native speaker of Urdu, and probably no native speaker of Hindi either, ever used the word in the sense of a language. When in our time the Hindi-Urdu quarrel grew strong and both parties were bent on opposing each other, the Indian National Congress, with the idea of removing the mischief, adopted the word Hindustani and declared it the common language of India. But the Congress gave no definition of it and did not say what it meant. Perhaps it did not wish to get into the quarrel, and that was just as well, because the politicians of today, who have kneaded other things into politics, have made the poor language too a victim of their kind attention. Now, after thought, Hindustani has been given this meaning: the language commonly spoken in North India, free of heavy and unfamiliar Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian words. In fact this definition of Hindustani is taken from Dr Grierson's account, and it has been accepted by most of those who support Hindustani. But the question is: is this really a language at all? If it means the language which the English of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries called Hindustani and which our writers of that time called Rekhta, Hindi and Urdu, then certainly it is a language, and it is still spoken, written and read in India.

And if it means the language that some lovers of novelty have begun to forge and mould nowadays, then it is not the language of our country. And if it is taken to mean a language acceptable to the speakers of both Hindi and Urdu, then it has not yet come into being. As far as the spoken language goes it is all right, but where the frontier of literature comes, it stops short. Gandhiji invented the word "Hindi-Hindustani". Since it was ill-matched, it did not catch on. The result is that easy Urdu came to be called Hindustani. You will say: why not call easy Hindi Hindustani? Do so by all means, for, as I have just said, modern Hindi is the child of Urdu. As for the language being simple and easy, in speech it is generally simple. When a book or stories are written for children or for people of little education, the language has to be kept simple too. This does not depend on any habit of ours; it is so with all the languages of the world. But when a good poem has to be written, or a learned or literary discussion comes up, it becomes hard to keep to simple language. It is not enough for language merely to be easy; it must also have life, effect and charm, and that is not within everyone's power.

Only accomplished writers can write such a language; otherwise what is the use of writing that is flat, tasteless and clumsy? Secondly, everyone's style of writing is different: one has one colour and another another manner. This depends on each man's temper and natural bent. We cannot force anyone to write this way and not that, and even if we did, it would not be possible; far from adopting the new manner, he would forget his own. What I mean to say is that this "easy, easy" which is being preached on every side nowadays seems to me rather out of place. A word is not a lifeless thing, to be picked up and put down wherever one likes. Only practised writers can judge its qualities. Take up the work of any writer or poet of the highest rank and you will see that every word is a gem set in its place. Change it and put another word there, and all the grace and delicacy will be ruined. Besides, "easy" and "difficult" are relative words: something that seems difficult to me another thinks easy, and what I think easy is difficult in another's view. So no limit can be fixed between easy and difficult.

It is a matter of taste, and in literature this is the hardest stage. There the question of easy and difficult does not arise at all; there one looks to see whether the word suits the occasion and the place or not. If even an easy word comes out of place, it is as bad as a difficult word out of place. It is necessary, of course, that the statement should not be involved and tangled; simplicity and ease can have only this meaning. Gandhiji, Babu Rajendra Prasad and their colleagues have announced that Sanskrit words need to be mixed into Hindi and Hindustani so that the people of Bengal and South India can understand it. They also say that when they go to Bengal and South India they should talk or speak in such Sanskrit-mixed language, and when they go to the Frontier Province and the Punjab, in Persian- and Arabic-mixed language. In that case, where is the one common language of India for which all these efforts are being made? And the strange thing is that it is because of this very Sanskrit-mixed language that the people of South India are strongly opposing Hindi or Hindustani. They suspect that under the pretext of Hindi an attempt is being made to spread Sanskrit, and that we wish to wipe out their language and culture.

If our language is a living language, new words will keep coming into it, from whatever language they may be; no living language can escape this. But this does not mean that we should expel words that have long been current, and in their place bring in, searched out of dictionaries, such awkward, clumsy and harsh words that the tongue turns several somersaults in uttering them and the eardrums begin to split. The words that are already current and have blended into our language, from whatever language they come, are now ours, not strangers. To throw them out as strangers is sheer folly. Those who do so are not friends of their language but its enemies. In the entry of new words too the nature and taste of the language play a great part; words cannot be forced in blindly. What is strung becomes a pearl; what is absorbed is ours, and what is not absorbed remains a stranger among strangers. The Government of Bihar has set up a Hindustani Committee and proposed to have a grammar and dictionary of the Hindustani language and readers for the schools written. Writing readers in this language for the primary classes will not be very hard, but writing books for the higher classes, where the literary dignity of the language must also be kept, will be difficult.

It will be still more difficult to make technical terms. We must wait for that. If it finds some middle road that can win acceptance, it will be a great victory, and at least it will be very useful for everyday conversation and business. After this, if anyone asks me what the Hindustani language is, I shall say in answer that the language in which I have spoken today is Hindustani. Two sentences have been given us for criticism. One sentence is this: "Sir N. N. Sircar, the Law Member, threw light today in the Assembly on the preliminary steps to be taken in connection with the preparation of the electoral rolls for the Federal Legislature." Although English words are used in this sentence for "federal", "legislature", "law member" and "assembly", the meaning of the sentence is clearly understood. "To throw light" is a translation of an English idiom, but now *roshni dalna* and *roshni parna* have come into use in Urdu, and their sense is not expressed so well by any other word. Just as translations of Persian idioms came in before, translations of some English idioms are coming in now. This is no fault, provided they are absorbed into the language.

It widens the language. The second sentence is this: "Answering a question in the United Provinces Legislative Council, the Minister of Justice, Dr Katju, gave a list of the industries for whose development the Government has agreed to give help." [TN: the Urdu gives this sentence in heavily Sanskritised words, *Sanyukt Prantiya Vyavasthapika Parishad men ek prashn ka uttar dete hue nyay mantri Dr Katju ne un udyog dhandhon ki suchi di jin ki unnati ke liye sarkar ne sahayata dena svikar kiya hai*.] This sentence is crammed with Sanskrit words and its meaning cannot be understood. This is not our language; it is a wholly artificial language. By permission of All India Radio, Delhi.