I am no Juggernaut

I thoroughly enjoyed a type of column that I wrote in the local newspaper.  It was when I jumped on a local news report and tied something from it back to the old country.  It was fun.  Sheer delight for me.  And, according to the emails that I received in appreciation, apparently many readers too liked those columns.

Once, a reader wrote in an email that he (she?) had no idea about India's long and rich history and connections to various aspects of life.  I was, and am, glad to be an ambassador representing the old country!  

In the Eurasian landmass, the Subcontinent has always been in the middle of it all, with people coming in from the west or the north, and occasionally over the waters.  These "others" came to trade or to wage wars, but the result was the same either way: The Subcontinent offered them plenty and also absorbed much from them.  So, yes, of course the connections are vast and complex.

Here's an example from 2008.  "A juggernaut" was how a state politician described the retiring president of the university, which is attached to a massive football team owned funded by pHil kNight, who failed in his attempt to defeat the Democratic candidate for governor.

The word juggernaut became the inspiration for my column that was published on May 12, 2008.

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Act Locally But Speak Globally

Oregon Senate President Peter Courtney described Dave Frohnmayer as a "juggernaut" for his influential role at the University of Oregon and in shaping higher education in the state. The offhand use of the word "juggernaut" is another example of how immersed we are in a globalized environment.

As with many words in the language, which my students say that I speak with a very strange accent, "juggernaut" is a borrowed word. The word owes its origin to India, to a very specific Hindu festival. 

Along India's east coast, by the Bay of Bengal, lies the state of Orissa. In this state is a town called Puri, which is one of the many cities considered holy by Hindus. The presiding deity at the Puri temple is Jagannath, a Sanskrit name that means "lord of the universe." 

One of the temple's main festivals is the rath yatra, a chariot procession. Hundreds of faithful devotees pull the ropes attached to three towering chariots, or temple cars as they are sometimes called. 

According to my parents, this is quite a spectacle. These temple cars are huge - about 45 feet tall - and are constructed every year according to traditional specifications. It is difficult to get them moving, as one can imagine - and it is not easy to control their movements, either. 

The British, who ruled India for a good number of years, were so impressed with this towering spectacle that they soon adopted it into the language as "juggernaut." Now it is in our daily U.S. vocabulary. 

The British brought away many words from their experiences in India. Rarely do we pause to ponder the geographic origins of words. Some of the favorite examples I share with students include "mulligatawny soup." Mulligatawny is derived from "milagu thanneer," which means "pepper water" in the Tamil language, which I grew up speaking at home in India. 

Of course, globalization is not a one-way street. India has its own experiences with foreigners - and not merely with the British Raj. 

Thus, daily life in India reflects centuries of cultural interactions - some voluntary, others forced. 

For instance, when the British introduced railways in India, the English phrase "railway station" became a part of the Tamil vocabulary. That is, there was no special Tamil word to describe the place where the trains stopped; instead, Tamilians too called it a "railway station," using the local script. 

Even vegetables such as potatoes and cauliflower were introduced into India by Europeans, which is why my grandmothers referred to all such produce as "English vegetables." They had to keep track of the geographic origins particularly because only Indian vegetables and fruits could be used in traditional and religious rituals. For the longest time, vegetables such as beans and carrots, which are referred to by their English names, were available only in the cosmopolitan cities. Now, I am pleasantly shocked to find even broccoli in smaller towns. Yes, there are people who do like broccoli! 

My grandmothers, who did not attend school beyond the eighth grade because they were married in their early teens, used a number of English words as well, even though they never learned to read or write English. Later on, as we grandchildren attended schools where English was the medium of instruction, my grandmothers always were fascinated with our bilingual environment - sometimes even trilingual. 

Whatever our personal opinions might be on the effects of such globalization, as the usage of "juggernaut" indicates, we are all products of centuries of interactions among different cultures and traditions. With English as the dominant language on the Internet, in intellectual activities and in commerce, we can expect more and more infusion of English into other languages and, simultaneously, an inflow of foreign words into the English language. 

By the way, if you are fascinated with the original juggernaut - the rath yatra - this year it will be on July 4. Watch out for mega-crowds, though: They are expecting 5 million visitors. Perhaps a trip for the local "juggernaut," Dave Frohnmayer, in the summer before his retirement?