Re: [nukkad] For those interested in spoken langs..others ignore :)

["Homi Kaikobad" <>]

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LINGUA MORTE

Kutchi is widely spoken in Karachi and it's hinterland where the count could
run into millions. The groups which do so are:

Bonafide Kutchis whose peers came from Kutch. Bhuj etc. These are original
prepartition Karachiites
Memonis, or Memons, who have a different sound to it, originating in Gondal,
Bantva etc. These came post 1947.

Almost all are Moslems and I think it will be hard to find a Hindu who
speaks Kutchi, which is a pity because they were full to the brim before the
schism and helped build the place.

The only difference between the two is the emphasis on a vowel or consonant,
which, with usage, marks who says what how and therefore the sect or tribe.

There is an interesting sub-group called Kutchi Ghanchis whose fathers drew
oil in little carts with an expeller and could do you the favor of getting
you oil out of almonds for your lover's hair for 8 annas to the pound right
there on the curbside.

Around early forties and post WW II a ship strayed onto the shallows off
Karachi and was abandoned and became a common sight for holiday makers on
the fine sand beaches. Till some bureaucrat thought of having it towed into
deep waters some 3 miles out and dropped in to the Chasm, and a contract was
drawn. A Ghanchi bid for and got it, and with the sea in their blood, went
on board in parties and actually broke the ship piecemeal and got it back on
shore and post war turned a pretty penny out of it. The wrecking yard was
born and now occupies miles of open land and serves graveyard for all ships
which need to be buried. Last I heard one of these graduated to the assembly
or something.

As you enter the windswept juna-purana place, an old ships bell graces the
gate. With a wide expanse of body parts of ships which roamed the seven seas
before you, now quiet and cold, an eerie feeling comes to the bones. If you
can get to read it, the ship's name, Avante, speaks through the tarnished
brass. Very rarely, when the wind is risen off the Arabian Ocean, it
remembers bygone memories and companions buried at sea, and tolls, long and
mournful.

Kutchi is not pretty to hear and is an angular product. But for a change, a
language is not dying and is in fact burgeoning.

Arya.













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