Pratapgarh, located on the Sai River, is the 'Amla Capital of India.' It offers a unique mix of history and spirituality, distinct from the culture of Lucknow or Ayodhya.
History: The Peasant Revolt
In the 1920s, Pratapgarh was the center of the Awadh Kisan Sabha, a massive farmer uprising against unfair land systems. Led by Baba Ram Chandra, this movement introduced Jawaharlal Nehru to rural India's struggles, changing Indian politics forever. This legacy of bravery is still seen in the local culture today.
Pratapgarh: The historic Ma Belha Devi Mandir.
Industry: Powering the Economy
Pratapgarh produces over 80% of India’s Amla (Gooseberry). Through the One District One Product scheme, the fruit is processed into pickles, medicines, and cosmetics. These products are now exported to Europe and the Middle East, making the district a model for modern rural industry.
Culture: Literature and Spirituality
The district is the ancestral home of famous poet Harivansh Rai Bachchan. It is also a spiritual hub, housing the Bhakti Dham at Mangarh. Established by Jagadguru Shri Kripalu Ji Maharaj, this center attracts thousands of global visitors for spiritual learning.
Bhakti Dham in Mangarh: A modern architectural and spiritual marvel of Pratapgarh.
Traveler’s 1-Day Trip
08:00 AM – Belha Devi Dham: Visit the city's guardian temple on the Sai River.
11:00 AM – Ajgara: See the lake where the Mahabharata's Yaksh-Yudhishthir dialogue happened.
02:00 PM – Local Food: Try 'Sattu' dishes and fresh Amla Murabba.
04:00 PM – Ghuisarnath Dham: A peaceful, ancient Shiva temple.
06:00 PM – Amla Orchards: Relax with a walk through the beautiful fruit groves.
Conclusion
Pratapgarh blends revolutionary history with peaceful traditions. Whether visiting for its industry or its soul, the district remains a resilient and vital part of Uttar Pradesh.
The Indentured Laborers' Migration Path: A Forgotten Journey Across the Oceans (भारतीय गिरमिटिया प्रवास पथ)
The indentured migration path is one of the most significant yet under-told stories in modern history. Following the abolition of slavery in the British Empire (and later in French and Dutch colonies), colonial powers needed a new workforce for their vast plantations. Between 1834 and 1917, this led to the largest organized migration of labor after the transatlantic slave trade: the Indian indentured labor system (भारतीय अनुबंधित मजदूर प्रणाली / गिरमिट प्रथा).
More than 1.5 to 2 million Indians — mostly from rural districts in present-day Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and parts of Tamil Nadu — were recruited under 5-year (sometimes longer) contracts. They left behind everything familiar to cross the Kala Pani (the "black waters," a term carrying deep cultural taboo) and toil on sugar, cotton, tea, and other estates in distant colonies (काला पानी पार कर).
What Was the Indian Indentured Labor System? (भारतीय गिरमिट प्रणाली क्या थी?)
After the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, plantations in the Caribbean, Mauritius, Fiji, and elsewhere faced severe labor shortages. Colonial authorities turned to India, where poverty, famine, and economic disruption made many vulnerable to recruitment promises of steady work and eventual return passage (अर्काटी भर्ती).
Recruiters (often called arkatis) targeted rural villages, promising good wages and fair conditions. In reality, many people were deceived, coerced, or signed contracts they barely understood. Historians have described it as a "new system of slavery" in many cases, though it differed legally from chattel slavery (नई गुलामी की प्रणाली).
The Journey: Departure Ports and Destinations (यात्रा: प्रस्थान बंदरगाह और गंतव्य)
The migrants embarked from three main British Indian ports:
Calcutta (now Kolkata) — the busiest and most important hub, especially for northern recruits (कलकत्ता / कोलकाता).
Madras (now Chennai) — key for southern Indians (मद्रास / चेन्नई).
Bombay (now Mumbai) — used less frequently but still significant (बंबई / मुंबई).
From these ports, ships carried people across vast oceans to colonies including:
Mauritius (one of the earliest and largest destinations) (मॉरीशस)
Fiji (फिजी)
Trinidad and Tobago (त्रिनिदाद और टोबैगो)
British Guiana (now Guyana) (ब्रिटिश गयाना / गयाना)
Suriname (Dutch colony) (सूरीनाम)
Natal (South Africa) (नटाल / दक्षिण अफ्रीका)
Jamaica (जमैका)
And smaller numbers to places like Réunion, Guadeloupe, Martinique, and others.
The Harsh Reality of the Voyages (समुद्री यात्रा की कठोर वास्तविकता)
The sea journey lasted 3 to 4 months on average, often routing around the Cape of Good Hope. Conditions aboard were cramped, unsanitary, and dangerous — high mortality from disease, malnutrition, and storms was common in the early years (sometimes over 17% on initial voyages). Strict regulations were later introduced to improve survival rates, but the trauma of separation and the unknown remained profound (काला पानी की यात्रा).
Life Under Indenture: Contracts, "Girmit," and "Coolies" (गिरमिट, अनुबंध और कुली जीवन)
Workers signed indenture agreements (called girmit, a Bhojpuri pronunciation of "agreement") for fixed terms, usually 5 years, with promises of wages, housing, and return passage afterward. In colonial records, they were frequently labeled "coolies" — a term that became derogatory (गिरमिट / कुली).
Many stayed beyond their contracts, forming vibrant diaspora communities that blended Indian traditions with local cultures, giving rise to Indo-Caribbean, Indo-Fijian, Indo-Mauritian, and Indo-South African identities (इंडो-कैरेबियन, इंडो-फिजियन पहचान).
Surviving Records: Why Archives Matter (बचाव अभिलेख और उनका महत्व)
Remarkably, enormous collections of original documents have survived:
Ship manifests and passenger lists (जहाज मैनिफेस्ट)
Indenture contracts (often with thumbprints instead of signatures) (गिरमिट अनुबंध)
Medical certificates
Plantation registers
Many of these are now recognized as part of UNESCO's Memory of the World Register, including major holdings from Fiji, Guyana, Trinidad & Tobago, and Suriname. Others are digitized in national archives or projects like the South African Indian Routes archive.
These fragile papers are primary sources — irreplaceable for tracing family histories, understanding colonial labor systems, and honoring the human experiences behind the statistics (यूनेस्को मेमोरी ऑफ द वर्ल्ड).
A Legacy for Descendants and History (वंशजों के लिए विरासत)
This migration shaped millions of lives and created global diasporas still vibrant today. For descendants searching for roots — whether in Suva, Port of Spain, Georgetown, or Durban — these records offer connection to ancestors who endured immense hardship yet built resilient futures (सुवा, पोर्ट ऑफ स्पेन, जॉर्जटाउन).
Preserving and digitizing them isn't just academic; it's an act of justice, remembrance, and identity. The indentured migration path reminds us how ordinary people, under extraordinary pressure, carried languages, foods, music, and faith across oceans — and how those threads continue to weave the world we share (गिरमिटिया विरासत).
Girmitiya Mazdoor Jahaji : How Jahajis Crossed the Oceans and Became Our Living Heritage (गिरमिटिया मजदूर जहाजी)
Imagine standing on the deck of a creaking ship in 1879, the vast ocean stretching endlessly before you. The air is thick with salt and uncertainty. You are a Girmitiya Mazdoor – an indentured labourer who signed a “girmit,” the simple Hindi pronunciation of the English word “agreement.” This five-year contract promised wages and a return ticket home, but for most, it became a one-way passage across the Oceans, the black waters that separated the familiar fields of Awadh and Bhojpur from distant plantations (अवध और भोजपुर).
Girmitiya Mazdoor (Representation)
You were not alone. Onboard, strangers from the same villages, same dialects, same castes became Jahajis – ship brothers and sisters. The word “jahaji” comes from “jahaz” (ship). It forged a bond stronger than blood. Jahaji bhai and jahaji behen shared stories, songs, and the ache of leaving home. That bond survived the voyage and the brutal years that followed. It became the foundation of new communities in Fiji and the Caribbean (जहाजी भाई-बहन).
This is the story of our Girmitiya Mazdoor ancestors – not just labourers, but the quiet architects of languages that still whisper in our homes today (गिरमिटिया मजदूर पूर्वज).
The Fiji Passage: From Awadhi Roots to Fiji Baat (अवधी से फिजी बात)
On 14 May 1879, the ship Leonidas docked at Levuka with 498 souls from Calcutta. Over the next 37 years, until 1916, more than 61,000 Girmitiyas arrived in Fiji aboard 87 ships. Most came from the rural heartlands of Awadh and Bhojpur – districts like Basti, Gonda, Lucknow, Faizabad, Ballia, Ghazipur, Gorakhpur, Sultanpur, Siwan, and Azamgarh in today’s Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Jharkhand. They were farmers, artisans, and mazdoors fleeing poverty, famine, or debt, lured by recruiters who painted pictures of fertile land and fair wages (अवध भोजपुर जिलों से).
Life on the sugarcane plantations was harsh. The “coolie lines” – rows of cramped barracks – housed people from different castes and regions side by side. Caste rules dissolved under the weight of shared labour. But language had to adapt too.
On those isolated estates, Awadhi – the soft, melodic dialect of our Awadh homeland – mixed with Bhojpuri and other eastern Hindi varieties. No single village speech could serve everyone. Slowly, through daily conversations in the fields, in the lines, and during rare moments of rest, a new koiné language emerged: Fiji Hindi, lovingly called Fiji Baat (फिजी हिंदी / फिजी बात).
It kept the soul of Awadhi grammar and pronunciation but developed its own distinct features – simpler verb forms, unique sentence structures, and gentle borrowings from Fijian and English for local realities (think words for new plants, tools, or emotions born on the plantation). It was never “broken Hindi.” It was a resilient evolution, a living archive of survival. Today, when an Indo-Fijian elder says “Kaise ba?” instead of “Kaise ho?”, or uses “juloom” for something extraordinary, you hear the direct descendant of our Girmitiya mazdoors’ Awadhi. Fiji Baat became the thread that stitched together a new identity – one that survived colonial rule, coups, and migration (अवधी की आत्मा).
The Caribbean Crossing: Bhojpuri Heart to Sarnami and Caribbean Hindustani (भोजपुरी से सरनामी)
The journey to the Caribbean began earlier and on an even larger scale. In 1838, the first ships reached British Guiana (now Guyana). Between 1838 and 1917, nearly half a million Indians crossed to the region. Guyana received about 239,000 Girmitiyas, Trinidad around 144,000 (starting 1845), and Dutch Suriname about 34,000 (1873–1916). Again, the majority traced their roots to Awadh and Bhojpur – the same villages, the same dialects our Fiji cousins carried (अवध भोजपुर की जड़ें).
The jahaji bond was just as powerful here. On ships like the Whitby that sailed to Guyana, people from distant districts became family. They sang the same folk songs, shared the same proverbs, and comforted each other through the long Atlantic passage.
Girmitiya Mazdoor in Fields (Representation)
Plantation life mirrored Fiji’s hardships, but local influences shaped the language differently. In the British colonies of Guyana and Trinidad, the base remained strongly Bhojpuri with rich Awadhi undertones. Daily mixing created Caribbean Hindustani – a vibrant koine that adapted words for sugarcane tasks, local fruits, and creole rhythms. English and French creole phrases slipped in naturally, creating phrases still heard in chutney music and bhajans (कैरेबियन हिंदुस्तानी).< /p>
In Suriname, under Dutch rule, the evolution took a special path. The same Awadhi-Bhojpuri mix, spoken by 34,000 Girmitiyas, blended further with Dutch and Sranan Tongo elements. The result is Sarnami Hindustani (or simply Sarnami) – a distinct dialect with its own grammar closer in some ways to Bengali than standard Hindi, yet unmistakably rooted in our eastern dialects. Verbs shifted to match Dutch patterns; new words described the Surinamese landscape. Yet the core – the tender Awadhi lilt, the sturdy Bhojpuri storytelling – remained (सरनामी हिंदुस्तानी).
Today, when a Surinamese elder says “Hamke” where we might say “Mujhe,” or a Trinidadian sings in Trinidadian Bhojpuri during Phagwa, they are speaking the direct evolution of our Girmitiya mazdoors’ tongue. The language did not die. It transformed, carrying the jahaji spirit across generations (जहाजी भावना).
Our Girmitiya mazdoors left Awadh and Bhojpur with little more than their contracts, their memories, and their words. But those words refused to stay silent. In Fiji they became Fiji Baat. In the Caribbean they flowered into Caribbean Hindustani and Sarnami. Both are living testaments that the ocean could change pronunciation but never erase the soul (अवध भोजपुर की आत्मा).
At The Awadh Project, we archive these voices – not as relics, but as the heartbeat of every Indo-Fijian, Indo-Guyanese, Indo-Trinidadian, and Indo-Surinamese family. Listen closely to your nani’s stories or your dada’s songs. You are hearing the Girmitiya mazdoor and the jahaji bond, still speaking after more than a century (गिरमिटिया मजदूर और जहाजी बंधन).
Awadhi, spoken in the heart of Uttar Pradesh, is a language deeply rooted in the soil. For anyone looking to understand the rural landscape of regions like Ayodhya, Lucknow, or Pratapgarh, mastering these agricultural terms is essential. Here are 10 common farming words followed by practical examples of how they are used in daily conversation.
Awadhi Word
English Meaning
बुवाई (Buwaai)
Sowing / Planting seeds
माटी (Maati)
Soil
मेंड़ (Meind)
Field Boundary / Bund
खुरपी (Khurpi)
Hand trowel
हसिया (Hasiya)
Sickle
गोड़ाई (Gorai)
Weeding / Hoeing
पियरा (Piyara)
Straw / Fodder
मड़ैया (Madaiya)
Thatched Hut
बियाँ (Biyar)
Seedlings / Saplings
फरुहा (Pharuha)
Spade
गूदा (Gooda)
Fruit Pulp
Sample Sentences in Awadhi Language Used in Farming
1. आज बुवाई करै का है। Transliteration: Aaj buwaai karai ka hai. Translation: Today we have to sow the seeds.
2. माटी गील अहै। Transliteration: Maati geel ahai. Translation: The soil is wet.
3. मेंड़ बनै देया। Transliteration: Mend banai deya. Translation: Let the field boundary be made.
4. खुरपी से घसिया छीलि देया। Transliteration: Khurpi se ghasiya chheeli deya. Translation: Scrape away the grass with the hand trowel.
5. हसिया के धार बहुत तेज अहै। Transliteration: Hasiya ke dhaar bahut tej ahai. Translation: The edge of the sickle is very sharp.
6. खुरपी लेया अउर खेत कै गोड़ाई करा। Transliteration: Khurpi leya aur khet kai gorai kara. Translation: Take the trowel and weed the field.
7. गइया के खाय खातिर पियरा लइ आवा। Transliteration: Gaay ke khaay khatir piyara lai aawa. Translation: Bring the straw for the cow to eat.
8. खेते मा एक नीक मड़ैया बनावा जाय। Transliteration: Khet ma ek neek madaiya banawa jaay. Translation: Let's build a nice thatched hut in the field.
9. बियाँ तानी देख के छिड़का। Transliteration: Biyaan tani dekh kai chhidka. Translation: Sprinkle the seedlings carefully.
10. फरुहा से खेतवा गोंड देया। Transliteration: Pharuha se khetwa gond deya. Translation: Dig the field with the spade.
Awadhi Language Words and Sentences Related to Farming
For anyone exploring the linguistic roots of the Indian Diaspora, one of the most striking features is the pronouns. If you speak Standard Hindi (Khariboli), you were taught in school that "Main" means "I" and "Hum" means "We." You were taught that using "Hum" for yourself sounds overly formal, perhaps even royal, or simply grammatically incorrect in a singular context. But if you step into a village in Basti, Gonda, or Azamgarh, or if you sit in a backyard in Suva, Fiji or Paramaribo, Suriname, that rule completely disappears. In the Diaspora, Hum is the undisputed king of the first person.
This linguistic shift is not a mistake, nor is it "broken Hindi." It is a 150-year-old survival of the Awadhi and Bhojpuri heartland that has remained remarkably consistent across oceans. When the Girmityas (indentured laborers) left the shores of India between 1834 and 1917, they didn't just carry seeds, tools, and the Ramayana; they carried a communal language. In their world, the "Individual" (Main) was far less important than the "Collective" (Hum). This article explores how these pronouns traveled from the plains of the Ganges to the islands of the Pacific and the Caribbean, creating a unique linguistic identity known as Fiji Baat and Caribbean Hindustani (Sarnami/Guyanese Hindustani).
The Evolution of "Hum": From the Heartland to the Islands
To understand why "Hum" replaced "Main," we have to look at the SEO-friendly context of historical linguistics. The majority of indentured laborers were recruited from the "Eastern Belt" of India—specifically the Awadh and Bhojpur regions. In these dialects, Hum has always functioned as a singular pronoun. By the time these speakers boarded the Jahajs (ships), their language was already distinct from the Western Hindi dialects that eventually became the basis for Standard Modern Hindi.
In the isolation of the plantations, these Eastern dialects fused into a "Koiné"—a common language used for survival. Because Hum was common to both Awadhi and Bhojpuri speakers, it became the standard. It provided a sense of solidarity. Below is a comparison of how the first-person singular has remained virtually identical across three distinct geographic regions.
The Comparison: One Word, Three Oceans
Region
The Word for "I"
Example Sentence
Translation
Awadh (India)
Hum / Ham
Hum jaat han.
I am going.
Fiji Baat
Hum / Ham
Hum jaata.
I am going.
Caribbean Hindustani
Hum / Ham
Ham jae hai.
I am going.
Navigating Third Person and Plurals
While "Hum" took over the singular role, the Diaspora languages needed a way to distinguish between "I" and "We." The solution was elegantly simple: the addition of "Log" (People). In Fiji Baat and Caribbean Hindustani, you don't just say "We," you say "We people" (Hum log). This is a direct carryover from the rural grammar of 19th-century Bihar and Uttar Pradesh.
Similarly, the third-person pronouns U and O serve as universal markers for He, She, and It. In Standard Hindi, one might use Vah or Ve, but the Girmitya tongue preferred the shorter, sharper vowels of the East. This makes the language incredibly efficient and rhythmic.
English
Fiji Baat
Caribbean Hindustani
Heartland Root (Awadhi/Bhojpuri)
We / Us
Hum log / Ham log
Ham log
Hum sab / Hum panch
He / She / It
U / O
U / O
U / O (Universal Eastern form)
They / Them
U log / O-log
U log
Un log / Unka sab
Why "Main" Died on the Ships: The Sociology of Language
In Standard Hindi (Khariboli), Main is the singular pronoun. But in the 1800s, rural Awadhi and Bhojpuri speakers used Hum for both singular and plural. Why did "Main" fail to take root in the Diaspora? The answer lies in the trauma and the social structure of the Jahaji-Bhai (Ship-Brotherhood).
When the Girmityas were mixed together on the ships, they came from different castes, religions, and social standings. In the villages of India, "Main" often carried a sense of ego or individual assertion. On the ship, survival depended on the collective. Hum became the "Koiné" (common) anchor. It was easier to learn for those who spoke other dialects, it felt like home, and it stood as a mark of the Eastern UP identity against the Western Hindi influences often promoted by colonial administrators or later missionaries.
Furthermore, the linguistic "sanitization" that happened in India—where the British and Indian scholars standardized Hindi to remove "village" elements—never reached the shores of Fiji, Guyana, or Suriname. The Diaspora was essentially a time capsule. While India was adopting "Main" to fit a more westernized, individualistic grammatical model, the Girmityas were preserving the communal "Hum" in their sugarcane fields.
Fiji Baat and Caribbean Hindustani: A Cultural Legacy
For modern generations in the Diaspora, understanding these pronouns is a key part of genealogy. To speak Fiji Baat or Sarnami is to speak the language of resistance. It is the language that refused to be erased by the English of the plantation owners or the Standard Hindi of the textbooks.
When a Guyanese grandmother says "Ham jae hai" or a Fijian youngster says "Hum jaata," they aren't just communicating a destination; they are echoing a 19th-century farmer from Basti or Azamgarh. It is a living connection to the soil of the Gangetic plains—a connection that Standard Hindi, for all its formal beauty, can never replicate. This "Collective I" remains one of the most powerful remnants of the Girmitya journey, proving that while they lost their land, they never lost the soul of their speech.
Conclusion: Whether you are a student of linguistics or a descendant of the Girmityas, recognizing the power of "Hum" is essential. It is more than just a word; it is the story of a people who, when faced with the loss of everything, chose to define themselves not as "I," but as "We."
If you listen to a conversation in Fiji, Trinidad, or Guyana, you will notice a strange rhythmic addition to many common nouns. A boy isn't just a Larka; he is a Larkwa. A house isn't just a Ghar; it's a Gharwa. Even a dog becomes a Kuttwa. This distinct phonetic "ending" is the heartbeat of the Girmitya heritage, acting as a bridge between the sugarcane plantations of the 19th century and the modern Indo-Caribbean or Indo-Fijian identity.
To a speaker of Modern Standard Hindi, this sounds like a "slang" or a "broken" version of the language. But to an archivist of the Awadh and Bhojpuri heartland, this is the ultimate proof of ancestry. This is the 'Definite Article' of the 1800s—a grammatical fossil that survived across the Kala Pani (black waters) while it slowly faded in the urban centers of North India. It represents a "frozen" state of the language, preserved by distance and the deep desire of the diaspora to keep their village roots alive.
The Grammar of the Village: More Than Just a Suffix
In English, we use "The" to make a noun specific (e.g., The house). In the 19th-century dialects of Eastern UP and Bihar, the suffix -wa performed this exact function. It turns a general noun into a specific "entity." It adds a layer of familiarity, intimacy, or occasionally, a diminutive sense that makes the object feel "known" to the speaker and the listener.
Noun (Standard)
Diaspora Form (Fiji/Caribbean)
Heartland Context (Awadhi/Bhojpuri)
Larka (Boy)
Larkwa
"That specific boy"
Ghar (House)
Gharwa
"The family home"
Dukh (Sadness)
Dukhwa
"The specific pain/sorrow"
Paisa (Money)
Paiswa
"The specific money"
Lota (Container / Glass)
Lotawa
"The specific container"
Kapda (Cloth)
Kapadwa
"The specific cloth"
Haath (Hand)
Hathawa
"The specific Hand"
Why did the "-wa" survive the Kala Pani?
The survival of the -wa suffix is a story of resilience. When the Girmityas were on the indentured ships, they were a melting pot of people from dozens of different villages—each with their own sub-dialects. To make themselves understood, they leaned into the most common, rhythmic, and functional parts of their speech. The -wa suffix acted like a drumbeat—it made the language more musical, predictable, and easier to remember in a time of great trauma and displacement.
Furthermore, because the diaspora was isolated from the "purifying" linguistic reforms taking place in India during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, their language didn't change at the same pace. While urban India was "sanitizing" its Hindi to remove these village suffixes in favor of more formal Sanskritized or Persianized forms, the Diaspora held onto them as a badge of identity. Today, hearing a -wa at the end of a word in Suva, Port of Spain, or Georgetown is like hearing a ghost of a Basti or Azamgarh village from 1870. It is a linguistic DNA strand that remains unbroken by time or tide.
Learn English to Caribbean Hindustani (Sarnami) + Awadhi Sentences
Learn English to Caribbean Hindustani (Sarnami) + Awadhi Sentences. This comprehensive guide helps you bridge the gap between English, Awadhi, and the unique Hindustani dialects found across the Caribbean, such as Suriname Sarnami, Guyana Hindustani, and Trinidadian Hindustani. Today we will learn some basic Caribbean Hindustani sentences from English, providing a linguistic roadmap for those looking to reconnect with their Girmitya roots or explore the evolution of Indic languages in the diaspora along with traditional Awadhi translations.
English to Caribbean Hindustani Lesson 1: Meeting / Greeting
In the heartland and the diaspora, your greeting tells people where your ancestors came from. Notice how Awadhi leans into "Hum" and "Ka Haal," while Caribbean Hindustani (Sarnami) often uses "Ka Haal Ba" or "Kaise Hai."
English
Awadhi Form
Caribbean Hindustani Form
1. Greetings / Respects.
Ram Ram.
Ram Ram / Namaste.
2. What is your name?
Tohaay naav kaav ahai?
Tohar naam ka hai?
3. My name is [Name].
Hamaay naav Prasad ahai.
Hamar naam Prasad hai.
4. How are you? (Respect)
Tu kas ahaa?
Aap kaise hai?
5. How are you? (Casual)
Ka haal chal ahai?
Ka haal ba?
6. I am fine.
Hum neek ahee.
Hum theek bani / Hum achha hai.
7. Where do you live?
Tu kahan rahat-hya?
Tu kahan rahe hai?
8. I live in Suriname / Fiji.
Hum Fiji ma raheetha.
Hum Suriname mein rahi la.
9. Nice meeting you.
Tohse mil ke neek laag.
Tuhse mil ke khushi bhail.
10. See you again.
Phiri milab.
Fir milab.
Lesson 2: Caribbean Hindustani At the Kitchen Table — Requesting Food and Water
The "Kitchen Language" is the most preserved part of the Girmitya identity. Notice the shared roots between Caribbean Hindustani and Awadhi.
English
Awadhi Form
Caribbean Hindustani Form
1. I am very hungry.
Humka bahut bhookh laagi ahai.
Humke bahut bhookh lagal hai.
2. What is for dinner?
Aaj khana ma ka ahai?
Aaj khana mein ka hai?
3. Give me some water.
Tani paani dai deya.
Thoda paani da.
4. Food is very tasty.
Khana bahut swadisht ahai.
Khana bahut swadisht hai.
5. I want one more Roti.
Humka Ek roti aur chahee.
Ek aur roti chahiye.
6. Where is the Lota?
Lotawa kahan ahai?
Lota kahan hai?
7. Have you eaten?
Tu khana khaay lehya?
Tu khana khaile hai?
8. I don't want more.
Ab humka aur na chahi.
Ab humke aur nahi chahiye.
9. Sit down and eat.
Baith ke khana kha.
Baith ke khana khao.
10. Wash your hands.
Hathwa dhoi leya.
Haath dho lo.
Lesson 3: Caribbean Hindustani at The Marketplace — Haggling and Shopping
In the bazaar, Awadhi uses "Ketana" or "Ketne" for 'How much', while Sarnami/Caribbean Hindustani often retains the "Ka daam" or "Kitna" structure.
English
Awadhi Form
Caribbean Hindustani Form
1. How much for this?
Ehkai ketana daam ahai?
Ekar ka daam hai?
2. This is expensive.
E bahut mahang ahai.
E bahut mahanga hai.
3. Give it for less.
Tani kam karaa.
Thoda kam karo.
4. I want two kilos.
Humka dui kilo chahi.
Humke dui kilo chahiye.
5. Fresh vegetables?
Taaza sabji ahai ka?
Taaza sabji hai ka?
6. Give me the change.
Paisawa wapas deya.
Paisa wapas karo.
7. No money.
Hamare lage paisa naahin ahai.
Hamar paas paisa naikhe.
8. Take the money.
Paisawa leya.
Paisa lo.
9. Where is the market?
Bazaar kahan ahai?
Bazaar kahan hai?
10. Good quality.
E bahut neek ahai.
E bahut achha hai.
Lesson 4: Directions and Travel in Caribbean Hindustani — Finding Your Way Home
Traveling back to the Gharwa (The House). Notice the Awadhi "Hiyan" vs the Sarnami/Hindustani "Hia" or "Hian."
English
Awadhi Form
Caribbean Hindustani Form
1. Where are you going?
Tu kahan jaat ahaa?
Tu kahan jaat hai?
2. Where is the station?
Station kahan ahai?
Station kahan hai?
3. Go straight.
Hiyan se seedhe jaav.
Hian se seedhe jao.
4. Turn left/right.
Baaye/Daaye mudaa.
Baaye/Daaye ghumo.
5. How far is the village?
Gaon ketna door ahai?
Gaon kitna door hai?
6. Call a car.
Gadiya bolawa.
Gaadi bolaao.
7. I am lost.
Hum rastawa bhooli gaa ahee.
Hum rasta bhool gaili.
8. Stop the car here.
Gaadi hiyan roka
Gaadi hian roko.
9. Come quickly.
Jaldi aawa.
Jaldi aao.
10. Let's go home.
Chalo ghare chala jaaye.
Chalo gharwa chali jaai.
Lesson 5: Emotions and Feelings — Speaking from the Heart
The "sweetness" of Awadhi vs. the "strength" of Caribbean Hindustani. Compare how these feelings are expressed across the oceans.
