Translated literally, it says: “God, you have created me, nurture me”, though the exact sense it conveys is: God, you have created me, now how about taking care of me!
Rôchlay, Deva, pôs — just three words — and so pious they almost articulate a sublime prayer! But they are loaded with some connotations and associations. The proverb is meant to describe situations wherein you choose to do someone a favour and, in return (that is, on account of that favour), you are led to do another, or even a series of more, and perhaps greater, favours to the same party.
You invite a family to dinner. They arrive by the last bus. They enjoy the meal alright. But when the dinner is over, they have a problem getting back home. You have no option but to crown your invitation to dinner with an offer to drive them back home or else accommodate them at your place for the night! Rôchlay, Deva, pôs!
Or perhaps your friend, Sebby, has to travel a long distance to go to work. Now, seeing that his work place happens to be quite close to your residence, you generously offer him accommodation in your own house, and boy! Is he glad to accept your offer! Now it takes him just five minutes to walk his way to work. But that isn’t the end of the story. When it’s dinner time, Sebby quite naturally turns up at your dining table as well. Rôchlay, Deva, pôs!
Valichea niban mhôsgak udok means that the drumstick tree gets hydrated in the process of the creeper being watered. This is apparently a simple expression, but is open to somewhat differing interpretations depending on the motivation of the parties involved.
Val means a creeper, any creeper; nib means an excuse; mhôsgak is the dative case of mhoxing, which means a drumstick tree; and udok is water. So the literal translation of the proverb is: with the creeper as an excuse, water to the drumstick tree. Valichea is the singular flex stem of the genitive of val (i.e., ‘of the creeper’). Niban is the instrumental case of nib (meaning ‘with or through the excuse’).
As you can see, there are three parties involved: the creeper, the drumstick tree and the unmentioned but implied party which is the gardener who waters the creeper. Of these, since the creeper is the direct and unambiguous beneficiary of the act of watering, the two possibly motivated parties are the drumstick tree and the gardener.
Fr. Josinho Cardozo is the parish priest of Upaxim. He needs funds to renovate the Church compound. He decides to start a weekly novena to Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, preaches and tweets fervently for several weeks about the importance of the novena, and finally installs in the church a beautiful picture of O. L. of Perpetual Succour without, of course, forgetting to place at the foot of the picture an even nicer money box for the devotees’ offerings. Valichea niban mhôsgak udok. Fr. Josinho (in combination with the devotees) is the gardener while the val or the creeper, to which the effort is directed, is the picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour. And who is the mhoxing (the drumstick tree) or the indirect beneficiary? It is undoubtedly the donation box below the revered picture!
"Thank God" -- An expression of relief about what has or has not happened or what has or has not been done
Borem mhunn borem literally means “good, therefore good” or, in slightly better English, “It’s good, so it’s good”. Borem is neuter singular of boro (masc), bori (fem), and both the occurrences of the word in the phrase always remain unchanged regardless of the context in which the phrase may be used. That is because borem refers to an impersonal situation which is always considered to be neuter.
Borem mhunn borem corresponds almost exactly to the sense of the commonly used English phrase “Thank God” as, for instance, in the following sentences:
Borem mhunn borem tum taka mell’lloi mhunn, na zalear to sanddtolo aslo.
Thank God you met him, else he would have got lost.
Borem mhunn borem amim sotri haddli mhunn. Pavs iet mhunn kednanch chintlem na.
Thank God we brought an umbrella. (I/We) never thought it might rain.
The word mhunn corresponds to “that” (used as a conjunction) in English.
As has been explained under Conjugation 1, in this system, all verbs are to be learnt with their five principal parts:
The first principal part is the infinitive which is the key to most uses of the verb. The distinguishing mark of the infinitive of the second conjugation is that it ends with a consonant + unk. Example: marunk, to hit. Typically these verbs are transitive verbs. Incidentally, marunk has several shades of meaning which are somewhat related to each other. It can stand for “hit”, “beat” or even “kill”.
The second principal part is the present indicative. The future simple and the past continuous are the most obvious derivations from this part. Example: martam = I hit.
The third part is the present indicative negative. Example: marinam= I don’t hit.
The fourth principal part is the past definite. Since verbs of the second conjugation are transitive, this principal part ends in lem. Example: marlem= I hit. As you may know by now, here the subject goes into the instrumental case. Just to drive this point home, the following sentences illustrate the difference between the first and second conjugations just as well as the difference between the intransitive verbs and transitive verbs. Notice that in the second case (transitive verb in the past) the subject gets inflected to the instrumental case:
Forsu kal poddlo (Francis had a fall yesterday)
Forsun kal sorôp marlo (Francis killed a snake yesterday)
Notice the difference between Forsu (nominative) and Forsun (instrumental).
Remember that when learning a new verb, you should pay special attention to its fourth principal part which tells you how the verb is to be used in the past definite and other related tenses.
Finally, the fifth principal part is the negative of the simple future. Example: marchonam = I will not hit.
Here are a few examples of regular verbs of the second conjugation:
Marunk, martam, marinam, marlem, marchonam =to hit.
E,g, Tannemcheddeachêr thapott marlem = He slapped the boy [Literally: He hit a slap on the boy].
Foddunk, fôddtam, foddinam, fôddlem, fôddchonam =to break. E,g, Tannembattlli foddli = He broke the bottle.
Kaddnk, kaddtam, kaddinam, kaddlem, kaddchonam = to take. E.g., Tinnem mezailem (=mezavelem) kellem kaddlem = She picked up a banana from the table.
Sanddunk, sanddtam, sanddinam, sanddlem, sanddchonam = to leave (trans.) E.g., Ti boxênt kednach jevonn sanddina = She never leaves food in the plate.
Vachunk, vachtam, vachinam, vachlem, vachchonam = to read. E.g. Tum kitem vachtai? = What are you reading?
Languages have their peculiarities, and it may not always be easy or even possible to translate a phrase or sentence from one language to another with complete accuracy. At times it is a question of economy of words. We have earlier mentioned the present habitual tense which is embedded so seamlessly in Konkani grammar (Please refer to The Bees in a Goan’s Bonnet) but has a more involved format in English. With other words or phrases it could be the other way around, and hispa bhair may be considered an example of that, it being slightly less economical than the English “much too”.
“Very” and “too” are similar words, except that “too” implies some sort of an expectation. When we, for instance, say “Pedru ekdomm lamb” or “Pedru is very tall”, what we basically mean is that he is more than average in height. But if we say that he is too tall, we imply something more than that. There is a sort of a norm, requirement or judgement involved: he is taller than he ought to have been. The Konkani equivalent of very is ekdomm, while too is usually expressed as chôdd or chodd, depending on the gender and number of the subject in the sentence.
However, when we say, “Pedru is much too tall”, we take the attribution one step farther. And that is exactly what hispa bhair would mean. In Konkani we would say, “Pedru hispa bhair lamb“.
The two words comprising the phrase are hispa and bhair. Hispa is the singular flex stem of hixôp, meaning account, computation, or reckoning. Bhair here is a postposition which means “outside of”, or “beyond”. So “Pedru hispa bhair lamb” means “Pedru is tall beyond reckoning” which is equivalent to “Pedru is much too tall.”
Here are some more examples of the use of hispa bhair: Az nistem hispa bhair mharog = Fish is much too expensive today Kal mhaka hispa bhair chodd kamm poddlem = Yesterday I had much too much work Canadak hispa bhair chôdd thonddai = Canada is much too cold
Mezaylem kellem diun filyad zôddlem literally means that one won a god-daughter by giving away a banana from the table, that is, belonging to somebody else. It is a reference to a favour one does, and takes credit for, without having to pay for it oneself, for instance by giving a gift that either belongs to somebody else or is ‘on the house’. Like many other proverbs of this type, it is an observational proverb that isn’t meant to impart wisdom as much as it tries to portray a particular situation with some insight into it.
The word mezaylem is a contraction of mezavelem, literally meaning “from on the table” (locative on). If it were instead in a container, e.g., in a jar, we would use the locative in, e.g.,bhornêntlem, meaning ‘from inside a/the jar’. As you can see, it isn’t a simple locative but a compound postposition, corresponding to a compound preposition in English: from on or from inside. A simple locative would be mezar (on a/the table) or bhornênt (in a/the jar).
Diun literally means ‘having given’ or, as is the case here, ‘by giving’.
The word filyad comes from the Portuguese afilhado or afilhada, i.e., godson or god-daughter respectively, so filyad or filhad can be any of the three genders — neuter if it refers to a young girl, as is the case here. Notice that the neuter is apparent here only because the sentence is in the past definite. And, as has been mentioned elsewhere in Nostalgoa, when a transitive verb like diunk (to give) is used in the past definite, the verb abandons its loyalty to the subject and agrees with the object (filyad), which is how we come to know that it is neuter (i. e., a young girl), because zôddlem is neuter. Had the sentence been in the present, i.e., with “zôddta” instead of “zôddlem“, the gender of filyad would be unknown.
Yet another observation. Notice that the sentence is devoid of a subject. It has a verb (zôddlem) and an object (filyad), but no subject. Such a thing is very conveniently done when it is the verb that is important, and not the subject, that is, when the focus is on what is done, rather than on who does it.
A man who resides in, and inherits, the wife's house and property
Ghor-zanvuy is the lucky man who for whatever reason inherits his parents-in-law’s house and property and parks himself therein. It’s quite a common practice in Goa, particularly when the wife has no brother who can be an heir to the family assets. Most often it is because his wife is the only child of her parents. Or it may be that she does have a brother, but he is either an idiot or a priest. But whatever may be the reason for the inheritance, one cannot earn the appellation ghor-zanvuy unless one is also humble enough to leave his own home and make his wife’s residence his permanent abode!
As you can see, ghor-zanvuy or ghorzanvuy is a compounded word in which ghor means house while zanvui means son-in-law. So ghorzanvuy is a son-in-law who lives in the house that belongs or belonged to his parents-in-law.
For some reason, however, the word ghorzanvuy has acquired a slightly pejorative connotation by being associated with a degree of laziness or even idleness, as a person who doesn’t need to do any work because he has all the goodies thrown into his lap.
Before we begin with the regular conjugations, there are a few points I would like to underscore.
As I have mentioned earlier, in my system of Konkani grammar, every verb is presented in its five principal parts. These parts have been especially selected because practically all other tenses of that verb are derived from one of these five principal parts. And this is true not only of the regular verbs but of the irregular verbs as well. Once you you know the principal parts of any verb of any conjugation or even an irregular verb, you know practically everything about the verb, because the rules for deriving all other tenses from the principal parts apply to all the verbs, with the sole exception of the verb to be, i.e., asonk. All the principal parts of verbs, other than the first, i.e., the infinitive, are presented in the first person masculine singular.
To illustrate these parts, I shall take one regular verb of the first conjugation: poddonk, to fall.
The first principal part is the infinitive which, like in most languages, is the face of the verb. Some important tenses are also derived from it. With regard to the regular verbs, the infinitive is the key to all uses of the verb. Example: poddonk.
The second principal part is the present indicative. The future simple and the past continuous are the most obvious derivations from this part. Example: poddtam = I fall.
The third part is the present indicative negative. Example: poddonam = I don’t fall.
The fourth principal part is the past definite. And since the verbs of the first conjugation are intransitive, this principal part ends in lom. Example: poddlom= I fell.
It is this fourth principal part that has slightly varying rules with regard to its derivations. This part is the key to knowing whether the verb is used transitively or intransitively. If it ends in lom, it means that it is to be used intransitively, while if it ends in lem, then it is used transitively.
Please note that I have referred not to the transitivity or intransitivity of the verb but to the transitive or intransitive useof the verb. The reason is that there are some verbs in Konkani that are actually transitive but are used intransitively in the past definite. That is why they are known as anomalousverbs. It is interesting that most of these verbs happen to refer to bodily functions, e.g., the verb piyeunk, to drink. Normally transitive verbs in the past agree with the object, because the subject goes into the instrumental. But with the anomalous verbs, the subject retains its nominative form and so the verb agrees with it, instead of with the object.
Illustration: Randunk, to cook, and piyeunk are both transitive verbs, but “I cooked rice yesterday” is “Hanvem kal xit randlem“, but “I drank milk yesterday” is “Hanv kal dud piyelom“, even though piyeunk is a transitive verb and has a direct object, dud.” That is because piyeunk is an anomalous verb. Therefore, while the fourth principal part of randunk is randlem, the fourth principal part of piyeunk is piyelom. Notice the difference in endings between the two types of verbs.
Therefore I suggest that when learning a verb, do pay special attention to its fourth principal part which will tell you how the verb is to be used in the past definite and other related tenses.
Finally, the fifth principal part is the negative of the simple future. Example: poddchonam = I will not fall.
Here are a few examples of regular verbs of the first conjugation:
Poddonk, poddtam, poddonam, poddlom, poddchonam =to fall. E,g, kollso bãint poddlo = the water pot fell in the well. Futtonk, futt’tam, futtonam, futtlom, futtchonam =to break. E,g, battlli futtli = the bottle broke.
kusonk, kustam, kusonam, kuslom, kuschonam = to rot. E.g., To ambo zhaddar kustolo = that mango will rot on the tree. Bosonk, bostam, bosonam, boslom, boschonam = to sit. E.g., Suknnim ghorar bostat = birds sit on the house. Nachonk, nachtam, nachonam, nachlom, nachchonam = to dance. E.g. Ti ekdom’ bori nachta = she dances very well.
When we talk about declensions, we deal mainly with nouns (and also adjectives that are used nominally, i.e., as nouns, as in “The good, the bad and the ugly”). The second declension comprises all feminine words ending in i, with the exception of monosyllabic or disyllabic nouns (not adjectives) having a single consonant (unless it is j or x) before the i, e.g. bi (seed), koddi (curry), suri (knife), talli (a tiny branch of a tree) which all belong to the fourth declension. Hence even disyllabic adjectives with single consonants before the ending i come under this declension.
Unlike the words of the first declension, where neuter nouns form their plurals differently from the masculine nouns, the words belonging to the second declension form not only their flex stems but even their plurals in the same manner. The singular flex stem is formed by replacing the ending i with ê, the plural (nominative) is formed by replacing the i with eô, and the plural flex stem is formed by by replacing the i with eam. However, in the case of disyllabic adjectives with a single consonant before the i (mentioned above), if the first vowel happens to be an o or e, it opens out in the plural flex stem. Thus the o‘s in gori, gorê and goreô are all closed, while it is open in the word goream. Listen to these sounds in the last example below.
Here are some examples of words of the second declension:
Kalchi koddi used to be a very common phrase in the days gone by. Today it may not only sound stale but it may even be considered to represent something stale. Who would opt for yesterdays curry, after all?
But such wasn’t the case in those days. Kalchi koddi owes its origin to the fact that in the olden days there were no refrigerators. So our ancestors used to cook and eat fresh food everyday. Either they had the time, or they would make the time, for cooking daily, which was therefore a major activity and perhaps the prime duty of a housewife. And the only way people could preserve their food was by warming it up, perhaps even twice a day.
Now if you go on warming up the curry, it is bound to dry up and get gradually reduced in quantity. Of course one could always prevent the drying up process by adding more water so as to retain its fluidity. But such a thing wasn’t usually done. Why?
People in those days were not used to having a heavy breakfast. And since they usually worked hard in the fields, they needed a second breakfast. That was called pez, or congee, i.e., rice porridge prepared by somewhat overcooking rice in a lot of water. Now pez by itself is too bland and isn’t too palatable. So it would be had with something called tonddak launk, which could be some fish, meat, pickle or anything else that would go with the congee, and perhaps the most relishing of these was kalchi koddi which was an excellent sauce for the congee. Kalchi koddi, or “yesterday’s curry”, is a thickish paste that can be eaten either with a spoon or just with your finger.
If you really want to get a taste of it, you have to make prawn curry in a kunddlem. Then enjoy it with rice and let the leftover curry simmer in the kunddlem1 until it dries up into the delicacy that is kalchi koddi.
1. Kunddlem is a flattish earthen pot, used for most of the Goan cooking, except rice, which is cooked in a taller earthenware vessel called buddkulo. Similar to kunddlem, but slightly deeper and usually bigger, is tôplem.