Simply, words!

Ratna Raman

MANY words undergo changes over a substantial period of time. Meanings get added on to the word, and sometimes the meaning shifts as well. Take the word ‘simple’ for instance: Its origin dates back to the 12th century and records a major shift by the end of 300 years.  Early on, ‘simple’ meant  ‘innocent’ or ‘straightforward’. We continue to use it in this context even today. “Simple (uncomplicated) guidelines to cooking enable beginners to turn out great food.” “The questions asked in the examination paper were quite simple (easy).” “Following simple instructions (clear) you can crochet, knit or embroider, the most intricate of patterns.” Or, as the Amul advertisement proclaims, “Quite simply, (undoubtedly) the tastier butter!” Technology now makes it possible to take digital photographs with phones, simplifying cumbersome processes of developing, printing and storing. 

However, ‘simple’ once signified uncomplicated innocence when describing a person, but shifted to imply deficiency in good sense, judgement or intelligence. Take the case of a fictional character; a young adolescent who while vacationing, cut one half-circle in the barnyard door for the pregnant cat and was applauded by his uncle. When he cut four more small holes for the newborn kittens, he got yelled at for his stupidity in destroying a good wooden door. Possibly this lad contributed unknowingly to the shift in meaning wherein simple indicated a foolish person. As this popular 18th century rhyme declares, a simple person was a foolish person, or a simpleton. 

Simple Simon met a pieman,/ Going to the fair;/ Says Simple Simon to the pieman,/ Let me taste your ware./ Says the pieman to Simple Simon,/ Show me first your penny;/ Says Simple Simon to the pieman,/ Indeed I have not any.

This is a mean little nursery rhyme, familiarising children with the economic nature of the world and warning them that there is no free lunch.  Simon’s naivete (unworldliness) is on display alongside the legendary shrewdness of the pieman. As a young person I always wondered if the pieman offered Simon some free pie, outside of the world of the rhyme.

My curiosity was extended by yet another expression, ‘the baker’s dozen’ (12 century AD) where the count adds up to 13. The story goes that bakers all over England added extra loaves or an ‘in slice’ (extra piece of bread) to avoid penalisation  for possible weight shortages. Mithai sellers in the Capital received instructions in the pre-polythene seventies to factor in the weight of the cardboard container.

In the contemporary context, pies remain ensconced behind glass cases in malls and five star hotels with alarming overheads. However, the provision of  ‘happy hours’; a time-frame during which the day’s bread is sold at half-price, is a recurring source of pleasure as discounts remain irresistible.

Sweet, namkeen and confectionary outlets across the country allow customers to sample items on sale. This is also true of ice-cream parlours where sampler spoons enable tasting before purchase.

Vendors of vegetable and fruit, hand out an occasional tomato or banana to the construction worker’s child gazing uncertainly at their colourful carts. You cannot buy coriander or green chillies from any vegetable vendor. These are little gifts, given free of cost to all buyers who shop at their carts. Arguably, language fails to record generous impulses that are ‘simply human’ when documenting everyday economic exchanges.