Skip to main content

Thesaurus Man

 

My old thesaurus

One of the oldest books in my present collection is Roget’s Thesaurus. I bought this book in the Christmas season of 1975. One of my teachers bought it for me as well as a few other students who wanted it. The book was my faithful companion for many years because I was in love with words.

The art of writing has little to do with a thesaurus. But I realised that truth much later. Initially I laboured under the delusion that writing was a kind of verbal jugglery. My appetite for words was ravenous for quite a few years and I employed bombastic words in my writing in those days. Somebody compared me to Mrs Malaprop and somebody gave me the nickname ‘Thesaurus Man’.

Eventually I was enlightened. It dawned on me that writing wasn’t quite about words. Of course, if you can use words elegantly and appropriately that’s a great advantage in writing. But writing isn’t all about such elegance or appropriateness.

Writing is essentially a form of self-expression. It doesn’t need a florid lexicon. You can be a good writer with a vocabulary of a few thousand words, believe me. The heart has its own diction. It must have if you want to be a good writer. That diction doesn’t come from any thesaurus. That comes from your inner depth.  Any discerning reader will discover sooner than later where your words come from: hour heart or the thesaurus.

As I grew up I discarded a lot of books from my collections. When I shifted from Shillong to Delhi and later from Delhi to Kerala, on each occasion, I discarded a substantial number of books. But Roget’s Thesaurus stayed. Though I never used it anymore. It stayed because it carries a lot of memories. It has a heart of its own, for me.

The price: Rs7.05

I still remember with much fondness the teacher who bought it for me. I remember frantic searches for words while I wrote articles for a local newspaper in 1990s. My malapropisms of those days wink at me even now. The thesaurus is a bag of mixed memories.

It was the ambition of my youth to become a writer. I wrote quite much but I know they haven’t made any ripples – not even in a humble teacup, let alone the wretched Ganga. Now, less foolish and much less quixotic, I write with a shrug of resignation that aspires to hobnob with some ascetic detachment.

 

My study today

xx

Comments

  1. Enjoyed reading this insightful piece.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hari OM
    It's interesting, is it not, how some of us just know we have many words to share and keep working at it no matter how wide the ripples? From an early age I knew words to be my 'art' and was gifted a Roget's by my parents who felt that to be true also. Later, one of dad's friends gifted me his old school dictionary (Chambers). Maybe once a year I take them from the shelf to let them know I appreciate their part in my writing path! Thanks for a post that stirred similar reminiscence. YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's always heartwarming to see another soul with similar experience. My first personal dictionary, a pocket Oxford, came from an uncle who was a teacher. That didn't endure with me beyond ten years or so.

      Delete
  3. Yes I remember the earliest gifts were dictionaries. I still have the Oxford dictionary along with a few others. Unfortunately or otherwise, now they are all replaced by digital versions.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I too rely on a lot of digital reference books these days. Easy to use. The flip side is the increasing distance from books altogether, especially by the young students.

      Delete
  4. Lovely lovely piece sir. This morning I was having a conversation around honesty in writing being of paramount importance. And then I read this. A huge fan of your writing.
    But what resonated most with me was the last line,
    Now, less foolish and much less quixotic, I write with a shrug of resignation that aspires to hobnob with some ascetic detachment.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It takes us time to learn certain hard lessons.

      Thanks for sharing this too.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Whose Rama?

Book Review Title: Whose Rama? [Malayalam] Author: T S Syamkumar Publisher: D C Books, Kerala Pages: 352 Rama may be an incarnation of God Vishnu, but is he as noble a man [ Maryada Purushottam ] as he is projected to be by certain sections of Hindus? This is the theme of Dr Syamkumar’s book, written in Malayalam. There is no English translation available yet. Rama is a creation of the Brahmins, asserts the author of this book. The Ramayana upholds the unjust caste system created by Brahmins for their own wellbeing. Everyone else exists for the sake of the Brahmin wellbeing. If the Kshatriyas are given the role of rulers, it is only because the Brahmins need such men to fight and die for them. Valmiki’s Rama too upheld that unjust system merely because that was his Kshatriya-dharma, allotted by the Brahmins. One of the many evils that Valmiki’s Rama perpetrates heartlessly is the killing of Shambuka, a boy who belonged to a low caste but chose to become an ascetic. The...

The Little Girl

The Little Girl is a short story by Katherine Mansfield given in the class 9 English course of NCERT. Maggie gave an assignment to her students based on the story and one of her students, Athena Baby Sabu, presented a brilliant job. She converted the story into a delightful comic strip. Mansfield tells the story of Kezia who is the eponymous little girl. Kezia is scared of her father who wields a lot of control on the entire family. She is punished severely for an unwitting mistake which makes her even more scared of her father. Her grandmother is fond of her and is her emotional succour. The grandmother is away from home one day with Kezia's mother who is hospitalised. Kezia gets her usual nightmare and is terrified. There is no one at home to console her except her father from whom she does not expect any consolation. But the father rises to the occasion and lets the little girl sleep beside him that night. She rests her head on her father's chest and can feel his heart...

Maveli in the Pothole Republic

Illustration by Copilot Designer I was trying to navigate the moonscape they call a ‘national highway’ when my shoe vanished into a crater big enough to host the G20 summit. Out of it rose a tall figure, crowned and regal, though with a slight limp. “Maveli!” I exclaimed. “Yes,” he said grimly. “Your roads are terrible. I thought the netherworld was bad, but this—this is hell on asphalt.” I helped him up. “Don’t worry, Maveli, our leaders say we’re heading toward becoming a global economic superpower. See, even Donald Trump is impotent before our might.”   Maveli frowned. “Yes, yes. I saw your leader guffawing in the company of Putin and Xi Jinping. When he’s in the company of world leaders, he behaves like a little boy who’s got his coveted toy.” “Are you a little jealous of him, Maveli?” I asked. “I have reasons to be, but I’m not. Let him enjoy his limelight. A day will come when history will put its merciless foot on his head and send him to his own Patala.” Tha...

The Real Enemies of India

People in general are inclined to pass the blame on to others whatever the fault.  For example, we Indians love to blame the British for their alleged ‘divide-and-rule’ policy.  Did the British really divide India into Hindus and Muslims or did the Indians do it themselves?  Was there any unified entity called India in the first place before the British unified it? Having raised those questions, I’m going to commit a further sacrilege of quoting a British journalist-cum-historian.  In his magnum opus, India: a History , John Keay says that the “stock accusations of a wider Machiavellian intent to ‘divide and rule’ and to ‘stir up Hindu-Muslim animosity’” levelled against the British Raj made little sense when the freedom struggle was going on in India because there really was no unified India until the British unified it politically.  Communal divisions existed in India despite the political unification.  In fact, they existed even before the Briti...