Mahananda Sapkota-ji began devoting himself to literary causes from a very young age, facing hardships like so many other social workers. Whatever he earned in his youth, he used it to research, promote, and transmit his findings related to the Nepali language. Although he began his literary career with folk rhythms, these days he is occupied with Nepali grammar and its lineage. When I asked him about the relationship between grammar and language, he said, ‘Grammar should not impede the progression of a language; rather it should aid its development. It’s difficult to create a firm, full and fertile literary foundation if a language doesn’t have proper grammatical rules. When we say poets should not be restricted, we don't mean they have a right to be careless with language; rather, we are asking them to express freely in order to create a robust society. Grammar, language and literature are all equally important, in my opinion; none of these factors should be ignored.’
Since this was the first time I’d had the opportunity to relay my curiosities to this grammar-expert, I was in no rush to leave Kupondole early. I kept posing questions. ‘Sapkota-ji when I met Ram Mani-ji, he was completely in favour of discarding the halanta rule. What is your take when it comes to this idea of omitting the halanta?’
Addressing the person who had been sporadically peeking in, Sapkota-ji said, ‘Ok, Nani, you can bring the meal in here.’ Then he resumed, ‘In the word “Bhanubhakta”, the short k sound should not be designated as halanta, based on Sanskrit. There should be a new concept for this kind of usage. In words such as “garchha” and “parchha”, the shortened r sound is designated by a corresponding mark, so we can consider that to be halanta. In the word “satyalok”, the final short k sound is not halanta. The short k has a slightly different pronunciation. Respected Ram Mani-ji’s stance against the halanta is an example of stubbornness. His resistance is rather unscientific.’
‘But Ram Mani-ji says that letting go of the halanta rule is actually scientific because it’ll make printing more efficient, which might in turn increase literary output.’
‘From a Roman perspective, his stance makes some sense, but our folk rhythm prohibits that. No one says “garachha”; it’s “garchha”. It’s scientific to use certain marks based on how verbs are pronounced.’
‘And what do you think about this idea of improving the writing system in general?’
‘From a national perspective, it’s imperative that we rethink and revise the whole system. The fact that the letters “ra” and “wa” come together to make the letter “kha” is unscientific. Because while writing “rabar”, it becomes “khar” and vice versa. We need to rectify some of this. In some ancient texts, the letter “sha” follows the first letter “ka”. Various letters denote variations of the s sound (sa/sha); scholars should consider rearranging some of these letters. It’s also not our tradition to create the letter “ba” by modifying “wa”. In this way, it’s necessary to reform some other textual aspects.’
‘While revising the construction of letters, it’s also important to rethink how vowels are denoted. What do you think?’
‘I feel even more strongly regarding this. We need to radically reform how vowels are denoted in Nepali grammar. But not in an illogical way. We need to make decisions with the goal of uplifting and developing the language. Some of this is complicated by our historical entanglement with Sanskrit. There are still several inconsistencies in the rules. If we derive words from Sanskrit, it should be written exactly as the original without modifying anything. That’s what some intellectuals posit.’
‘You once raised a question regarding how the future tense is written.’
‘Yes’ he said and began explaining... (Translator’s note: I have skipped a few lines in which the interviewee provides minute examples which I have decided are not very relevant and might interfere with the reading experience.)
In 1937, Sapkota-ji moved from Assam to Biratnagar on a Full Moon’s Day in March, ending his status as an expatriate. Inspired by Subba Krishna Prasad Koirala’s encouragement and suggestions, he began advocating for educational rights. While involved in this task, he travelled extensively to Dharan, Dhankuta, Chainpur, Sunsari, and the surrounding areas and even supervised the opening of a high school. Later, determined to make a mark in Karfok (Ilam), he spent some time there.
‘But I couldn’t accomplish my goals in Karfok,’ he said, ‘Not due to lack of funds but because of my own physical difficulties and because of a lack of helpers.’ Despite saying that, he did manage to collaborate with others to establish the Nepali Bhasa Pracharak Sangh in Karfok in 1952. But the association’s programmes were often interrupted due to various reasons. And Mahananda-ji also began getting sick more often. Although he became involved in political activities between 1938 and 1959, he has spent most of his years focused on education and social reform. Because of this, he hasn’t been able to ‘own a house even to this day’. In 1959, he was diagnosed with cancer (in a very sensitive part) and became quite sick. He had to undergo surgery three times and still suffers periodically as a result.
While immersed in researching a language’s etymology and while travelling to promote education, his interests also expanded. I asked him, ‘Sapkota-ji, you are quite interested in anthropology, too, right?’
‘Yes, it’s important to investigate the ancestry of Nepali people. Now considered to be a branch of science, ancestral research will be quite useful for cultural reasons as well as for etymology. Researching language and culture without considering our ancestral heritage is quite ridiculous. In my perspective, three different races live in Nepal—Khas Arya, Tibeto-Burman, and Austro-Asian. (When we say Tibeto-Burman, it might encompass Chinese and Mongolian influences, too.) The contributions of these three races in linguistics are quite apparent. The following example clarifies how closely language is linked to anthropology.
‘In Chinese language, the word for water is “shwaa”; in Limbu it’s “chwaa” and in Newari it’s “waa”. It’s possible that the root of all three words is “shwaa”. We have a river called Kyang-Varun in the East, probably connected to China’s Yangtze River (which was previously known as kiang). Although Sanskrit experts have said that the root word of “Ganga” is “gam”, contemporary linguists have started saying that Ganga was also derived from kiang. This relates to our connection with Tibeto-Burman history. Our ethnic groups such as Tharu, Danuwar, Koche, Meche, etcetera, might have links to the Austro-Asian family. The language of Koche is different from that of Meche. And those differ from languages spoken by Tharus and Danuwars. Still, their cultural rituals point to an Austro-Asian heritage. The Danuwar and Tharu people have their own mukhiya, or village head, who determines certain cultural rituals. They are referred to as maijan or maanjan. These words evolved from their own languages, not from Sanskrit. But since this is a pretty serious issue, making declarations without proper research will come across as arrogance.’
‘In your opinion, where did we Khas-Arya come from?’
‘Khas is a large branch of Aryans, some of whom must have entered Nepal through India and some directly from Kashmir.’
‘Right. Keshar Bahadur KC-ji also says the same thing,’ I said and then posed, ‘And what is the distinction between Nepal’s Khas and Assam’s Khasiya?’
‘Khas is linked to the Aryan race whereas Khasiya is part of the Austro-Asian family. The Khas people are patrilineal whereas Khasiya people are matrilineal. The history of languages of both peoples are also quite different. The Khas people’s language is linked to Aryans whereas the language spoken by the Khasiya people is linked to the language of Mon-khmer people.’
When he said, ‘I better start getting ready to go to Singha Durbar,’ I was startled, and asked, ‘When are you returning to Biratnagar?’
‘Well, I have booked a ticket for Sunday but let’s see how wet it’ll be.’
‘Right. The rains these days can be quite unpredictable.’
Then I asked for his permission to leave.
—18 August 1966
Mahananda Sapkota (1896–1977) was a social worker, etymologist, linguist, and poet. He spent most of his childhood and youth in India and later returned to Nepal. He received the Madan Puraskar for his book Nepali Nirbachan ko Ruprekha in 1970.
