What's in a Pronoun?

Vegetarian "Chicken" Curry - Cauliflower with coconut and fennel seed

I don’t really remember ever speaking to my parents in Tamil when I was young. Doubtless, I did as a very young kid, but when the family went back to Britain when I was 6 or so, English rapidly took over my Tamil, and my communication with them has been in English ever since. This was much to the dismay of my mum then, but there you have it. So both my parents have been “you” – the only second person singular pronoun in English. The Indian languages I am familiar with aren’t as egalitarian.

To my knowledge, all Indian languages have two second person singular nominative pronouns, a regular you, and an honorific you. This is similar to the Indo European languages I am familiar with; tu and vous in French; du and Sie in German; tú and usted in Spanish. Pronouns indicating familiarity and intimacy, on the one hand, and respect, distance, on the other. (And as a complete aside, it was very interesting, during my time in Germany this summer, to try and figure out which to use where – which should we use for a young server at a restaurant, for example? And which, in turn, should they use for us? Turns out, things are definitely changing. Situations that I might previously have thought warranted a certain focus on formality or informality aren’t a given.)

So coming back to the Indian languages, then, in Tamil, the second person singular pronouns are nee and neenge; in Kannada, the pronouns are nee and neevu; in Hindi, they are tum and aap, with a third form, tu, used to signal not just informality, but also a greater degree of intimacy; in Telugu, they are nuuvu and meeru. And yes, one’s choice of which pronoun to use does, to an extent, depend on how formal or informal one wants to be, and on how familiar or intimate the recipient is, or the status and social distance, both perceived and actual, between the speaker and the hearer.  

But.

To my knowledge, there is one big difference between the Indian languages and the non-Indian Indo-European languages I am familiar with. In the Indian languages, the use of one or the other pronoun is also based, to an extent, on gender; while the pronouns themselves are not gendered, their pattern of use is, and is reflective of the very hierarchical and patriarchal nature of Indian society. To illustrate, in my parents’ house, while my mum has always used the honorific neenge when talking to my dad (and the corresponding version of him when referring to him), she is nee (and the corresponding version of her when he talks about her) for my dad. And this is very typical of families I know all over India.

And this pattern is, typically, passed on to the next generation – with the dad being neenge to the kids, while the mum is nee.

Had I spoken to my parents in Tamil, I don’t know that I would have deviated from this accepted pattern. This is the pattern most of my extended family, for example, follow.

I asked a cousin of mine, my generation, but a decade my senior (her dad was eldest of 10, my mum is second youngest of the same 10) last week what pronoun she used for her husband. Nee she said, with no hesitation, adding that this was definitely to the disapproval of her mum-in-law. And both the girls (her daughters) have always used neenge for both their dad and me, she continued.

I have no empirical data on this, but I would wager they are exceptions. Even in urban India, even today. I hope I am wrong.

My cousin volunteered that this pattern of pronoun use suggested closer ties to one’s mum than to one’s dad, reflecting that the dad was always the authority, the mum, someone who always loved the kids unconditionally, someone who was partner, peer. The father meant authority, the mother meant intimacy.

Sure. Looked at through a certain lens, this is probably true, and hardly surprising in a patriarchal society. And in this context, also could be interpreted as sweet? (Yeah… that doesn’t sit well with me at all.) Wholesome? A traditional family? And not just in India.

But looking at it through a different lens, I find myself speculating on something far less wholesome. Language influences thought; language shapes reality. The dominance of the male of the species is signaled by our use of words as small as pronouns. And if the masculine signifies authority, what does the feminine signify? Subordination?

(And I am restricting myself to a simplistic gender binary here simply because of my lack of familiarity with anything outside of the binary with respect to Indian languages.)

To what extent, then, do these particular language patterns influence thought? Does something as seemingly innocuous as a pronoun contribute to raising generations of people to think of women as subordinates? As inferiors? How much do our patterns of pronoun use contribute to contribute to the creation of the Road-side Romeos, to the Eve teasing I wrote about earlier?

I don’t know. What I do know is that year after year, India’s cases of violence against women increase. And this, in a country where the majority supposedly follow a religion where the feminine is worshipped.

As difficult as it is to segue away from that, segue I must.

So while the post has been about the power, the possible impact of a small word, my recipe today will be about the vast “impact” of a humble vegetable. Cauliflower. Oh come now, work with me! Some levity is in order.

It’s always been one of my favorite vegetables. As a kid, I could eat it every single day. As a young teenager, I remember asking my mum, somewhat anxiously, I recall, whether it was fattening. Why? Would you stop eating it if it was, I remember her responding. It’s interesting to think about it now, particularly given that I was a terribly skinny teenager. Those were also the days when pencil skirts were all the rage, and I desperately wanted one. Well, my mum, in all her wisdom, tried very patiently to dissuade me from getting one. And after many protestations from me about the unfairness of it all – all my friends were wearing them – my mum retorted with a rather exasperated Chandri, one needs a bit of a bum to hold up a pencil skirt.

Yeah…couldn’t argue with that. And that hasn’t changed. Back to cauliflower, then, and its versatility.

As a mum, I cannot describe how many ways I have used cauliflower in attempts to get more vegetables into my kids’ diets. Noteworthy have been my many iterations of “chicken” nuggets and “meat” balls. They both did contain small amounts of chicken and meat respectively, but were largely cauliflower. And successful, they were! And thinking about these, I remembered one particular cauliflower dish my mum would make when we were kids in Aden, particularly when we had one of our friends in for a playdate. This friend didn’t much appreciate vegetarian fare, till he ate this particular cauliflower curry. And from that day, it became Shantha Auntie’s vegetarian chicken curry.

So today, I give you my version of my mum’s vegetarian chicken curry. And yes, my older child does love it. The little one? It’s still a bit too spicy for her – but we’re working on it.

Vegetarian “Chicken” curry (Cauliflower with coconut and fennel seed)

Ingredients (vegan; serves 4-6 as a side)

For the marinade

1.     2 Tbsp finely chopped garlic

2.     1 Tbsp finely chopped ginger

3.     2 spicy green or red chillies (or to taste)

4.     ¾ cup grated fresh coconut

5.     ½ cup finely chopped tomatoes

6.     ½ cup plain yoghurt

7.     1 tsp fennel seed

8.     1 ½ tsp salt

9.     ½ tsp turmeric

Other ingredients

10.  5 cups cauliflower florets – bite-sized pieces

11.  3 Tbsp neutral-flavored oil

12.  1 cup finely chopped onions

13.  1 tsp cumin seed

14.  ½ tsp turmeric

15.  ½ tsp salt

16.  1 tsp ground cumin

17.  1 tsp ground coriander

18.  1 tsp Kashmiri chilli powder

19.  ½ cup chopped cilantro for garnish

Method

1.     Blend all the marinade ingredients to a coarse paste. Blending the ingredients with the yoghurt should allow you to process them with no water.

2.     Mix the coarse marinade with the cauliflower florets well. Let the cauliflower marinate in the mixture for 2-3 hours in the fridge. Make sure you do this in a container with a lid – or be ready for your fridge to smell pretty strong.

3.     Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed skillet. When the oil is hot, add the cumin seeds and turmeric. Allow the cumin to sizzle for a few seconds and then add in the chopped onions. Add ½ tsp of salt.

4.     Sauté the onions on medium for about 5 minutes till they are translucent.

5.     Now add the marinated cauliflower to the onions, with all the marinade.

6.     Cook with a lid on for about 7-8 minutes, stirring a couple of times. If your florets are large, you will need to cook the cauliflower for a bit longer. At the end of this time, the cauli is about 60% cooked.

7.     Now take the lid off, add the ground cumin and coriander, and cook with the lid off to allow some of the liquid to evaporate. Cook for about 10 minutes, or until the cauliflower is done. I like to cook it till the cauliflower starts to brown just a bit.

8.     About 5 minutes in, add the Kashmiri chilli powder.

9.     Turn off the heat, stir in the cilantro, and serve hot with a rice or bread of your choice. One of my favorite meals as a child was this curry served with pooris.

Note: I like this to be a pretty dry curry. If you want it to be a wee bit saucy, add about ½ cup of water during the last 10 minutes of cooking.