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Maasi -
Maternal Aunt:
The Vagaries of Language

MUSHTAQ SOOFI

 

 

 

The author laments how an age-old term of endearment has now acquired a mundane and functional usage.  

 

 

Maasi (Punjabi): maternal aunt; mother’s sister. ‘Mausi’ in Hindi and old Urdu. [Dictionary]


Pakistan

In upper middle-class houses in Lahore, the word for maid is now ‘maasi’ borrowed from Punjabi which means ‘aunt‘.

If you are a thoroughbred middle-aged Punjabi and dare to tell your aunt (mother’s sister) what it means in our city these days, she would die of shock. She would utterly fail to comprehend the new meaning the word has acquired. The phenomenon points to an ongoing socio-cultural and linguistic process, reflective of changing relationship between certain sections of affluent urban class and working class and their relationship with the Punjabi language.

‘Maasi’ has been and still is a close relative and an important member of extended family. But how did the added meaning of this word come along?

It may not appear something serious. But if you pause for a moment and ponder, such a small thing may lead you to a discovery of symptoms of a deeper malaise affecting the very fabric of social life, class relations, and language.

Let us try very briefly to trace the journey of the word ‘maasi’.

In Punjab’s cities decades ago Punjabi with its various shades was used as a natural language of conversation and communication. Anybody would call his or her mother’s sister ‘maasi’ without slightest hesitation as it was a very respectable word evoking affection and love.

Slowly and gradually with the spread of so-called modern education, middle class youth started calling their mother’s sister ‘khaala’ taken from modern Urdu.

Children of Punjabi elites replaced the word ‘maasi’ with the English equivalent ‘aunty’ as a sign of being schooled in western ways.

Common folks continued to use the old word for what it stood for.

Any elderly woman, not related to the family in any way, would also be addressed as ‘maasi’. Even a married and an aged working class woman would be called ‘maasi’ as a mark of respect, evoking feelings of distant tribal kinship.

The word did not carry any derogatory connotation. It, in fact, mellowed for a moment at least the class distinctions between two individuals of unequal status. Language helped facilitate such social intercourse. Here one can find the key to decoding the process underlying the metamorphosis of the word ‘maasi’.

A working class woman having no blood relation with the family would come to do household chores and the family would call her ‘maasi’ out of cultural habit. During the last few decades as a consequence of pervasive penetration of the free market, our consumer society has emerged. It flaunts conspicuous consumption and class distinction as an emblem of cultural advancement.

Calling a maid aunt could be embarrassing for a status conscious family. So a way out was to use the English word ‘aunty’ or the Urdu word ‘khaala’ for one’s mother’s sister and poor ‘maasi’ of Punjabi was reduced to denote a maid.

But how did the word ‘maasi’ land in a city like Karachi?

Working class families from the rural areas of the Punjab after having lost jobs in the shrinking agricultural sector migrated to Karachi in their unending journey of survival. Female workers from the first batches which arrived in Karachi years ago, though poor but recognized as respectable individuals in their villages and towns, introduced themselves with the epithet of ‘maasi’ knowing little that this would entail unintended consequences denying them social respectability.

So ‘maasi’ for her employers in Karachi was little more than a maid. Imagine a sixty plus lady in a posh area calling 20-year old maid ‘maasi’. The scene is hilariously ironic, straight from the theatre of the absurd, if you know the nuances of the Punjabi language.

Another aspect the issue in question brings up is historical: a strong bond between the Punjabi language and working classes. They have kept this dynamic and highly expressive language alive despite its being disowned by the ignoramus Punjabi ruling clique.

One need not lament the changes that inexorably take place in the sphere of language.

“Tongues, like governments, have a natural tendency to degeneration,” claimed Samuel Johnson.

This view has rightly been challenged by modern linguists. Language does change but does not necessarily change for the worse as is generally believed. Forces of destruction and regeneration are always at work in language.

What one does lament is the notion the so-called educated Punjabis have of their language and their demonizing the people who speak it. This act betrays the complete alienation of the Punjabi ruling elites from their roots and history and their loathing for the people they claim to represent. The question involves not just the changes in the meanings of a word but also of changes in class relations.

‘Maasi’ who does dishwashing for you and scrubs your floor, can also be a good raconteur. Spare a moment for her. She has a tale to tell signifying an unknown world of despair and dreams the working people live in.


[Courtesy: Dawn. Edited for sikhchic.com]
November 29, 2014
 

Conversation about this article

1: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), November 29, 2014, 2:55 PM.

Whatever that affectionate word has now evolved into -- even the cold 'Auntie' -- the Punjabi 'maasi' is akin to 'mother'. I wouldn't change it for anything else. 'Hi, Maasi ji!'

2: T. Sher Singh (Mount Forest, Ontario, Canada), November 29, 2014, 4:05 PM.

I think the author is fretting a little too much over the new usage of the term. I remember when I was a child (in the 1950s), a neighbour -- a Muslim woman -- became my baby-sitter and much more, for years having a major role in my upbringing. All of us addressed her only as "Bhua ji" -- literally, paternal aunt or father's sister. But it took away nothing from the same term of endearment when we used it for my two real bhua's, that is, my father's two sisters. In fact when the latter, as well as my paternal grandmother, visited us, they too addressed my 'baby-sitter' as Bhua ji. Thus, these terms were transferred to those outside the family -- either friends or even hired help -- in recognition of, and in honour of, the special role they played in nurturing the family. Isn't there an age-old proverb which says: "It take a village to raise a child"? How true, even when it happens in a city!

3: Roopinder Singh Bains (Surrey, British Columbia, Canada), November 29, 2014, 5:06 PM.

The Punjabi language has a separate word for every type of relationship: father's father, father's mother, mother's father, mother's mother, father's younger brother, father's older brother, father's sister, mother's sister, mother's brother ... and so on. But they have only one word for their cousins, except for their maasi's son, which is maasera. Because a maasi's son holds a special place in the hearts of Punjabis, probably because of the special relationship with the maasi herself.

4: Gobinder Singh (USA), November 29, 2014, 7:51 PM.

The author is explaining what most of us have witnessed in India's Punjab as well: Punjabi words being replaced with words borrowed from Hindi / Urdu / English. You will hardly find younger kids using Punjabi words for their close relatives. Everyone is Aunty ji or Uncle ji. On the other hand, in the West (at least in UK, US and Canada), in typical Punjabi humor, Maama (Mother's brother) is universally used derogatively for a cop, and one often hears Maasi used for a female manager / boss, especially if she is too demanding!

5: Roopinder Singh Bains (Surrey, British Columbia, Canada), November 30, 2014, 3:37 AM.

Punjabi is an older language than either Hindi or Urdu. Urdu was derived from the Turkic word for camp - Javan e urd - language of the Camp. When Sanskrit crossed the mountains from Iran to India, it first arrived in Punjab. Would be interesting to see what a kinguist would say.

6: Ingrid Himmler (Belfast, Ireland), November 30, 2014, 4:17 AM.

There is considerable scholarship that points to Punjabi being much older than Sanskrit. However, research into this area has been stunted, and the issue obfuscated, by obvious vested interests in India. Sadly, the very people who should've sponsored an honest study into this area have become its worst saboteurs.

7: Gurinder Singh (Stockton, California, USA), November 30, 2014, 5:56 AM.

The writer is bringing home the fact of the sidelining of Punjabi in urban Pakistan. It is a fact that Punjabi is now being relegated to rural Punjab in Pakistan. The same is happening in East Punjab (India).

8: Rupinderpal Dhillon (Reigate, United Kingdom), November 30, 2014, 4:48 PM.

This is not surprising. Did you know that the Arabs in everyday language have changed the normal meaning of the the word 'rafeeq,' which used to mean 'friend,' to 'donkey' (khota) when referring to Indians and Pakistanis? Class prejudice always kidnaps words and reuses them.

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Maternal Aunt:
The Vagaries of Language"









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