About the Goddess Hathor, Ernst Wallis Budge writes, in Gods of The Egyptians, that She:
“... is one of the oldest known deities of Egypt, and it is certain that, under the form of a cow, she was worshipped in the early part of the archaic period, because a flint model of the head and horns of the cow, which was her type and symbol, has been found among the early archaic, or late predynastic flints in Egypt.
The forms in which the goddess is depicted are numerous, but this is not to be wondered at, because during the course of the dynastic period she was identified with every important local goddess, and all their attributes, of whatever class and kind, were ascribed to her.
The oldest form of all is probably that of the cow, and this was preserved, though chiefly in funeral 'scenes and in the Book of the Dead, until the beginning of the Roman period.
Ḥet-Ḥert, name of the goddess, means the “House above,” i.e., the region of the sky or heaven, and another form of it, which is to be read Ḥet-Ḥeru, and which means “House of
Horus,” shows that she was a personification of the house in which Horus the Sun-god dwelt, and that she represented the portion of the sky through which the course of the god lay.”
There seems to be no doubt that the “Hat” element of “Hat-Hor”, means “House”.
Now whether it’s rendered Ḥet or Ḥwt, is it possible that nobody has detected the relation of this word with the English word “hut”?
I’m not sure about this, but the original word ḥwt actually was pronounced as hut.
How can this NOT be related to a host of “Indo-European” words which pertain to the word “hut”?
What is a hut, if not a house?
Even if the Egyptian word is ḥet, nothing changes.
The “ḥet” or “ḥwt” of “Hathor” is nothing but the
« German Hütte (“hut”),
« Dutch hut (“hut”),
« West Frisian hutte (“hut”),
« Old French hutte, hute (“cottage”)
« Old High German hutta (“hut, cottage”),
etc.
This is one of the most rampant consonantal clusters within the Indo-European languages, with “h” interchanging with “k” & “g” and sometimes with “c”.
Ultimately, I’d trace the words to the Sanskrit kuṭa, kuṭi, kuṭīra, koṭṭa, kaṭa, kūṭa etc.
There is no one word with absolutely one meaning.
There are several words with several similar or interrelated meanings.
This g-k-c-h group is ubiquitous even in the Dravidian languages of India.
The
« Kannada guḍi, meaning “house, temple”
is as unmistakably related, as the
« Malayalam kūṭu meaning “receptacle, nest, cage”
as the
« Telugu koṭṭāyi, “thatched shed”
and
« Tamil keṭi, “hill, fort”
or
« Tamil kōṭu, “a fortified place, a stronghold”,
or
« Tamil kōṭṭai,
Telugu kōṭṭa,
Kannada & Malayalam kōṭṭa,
Sanskrit koṭṭa,
all meaning “fort, castle, stronghold”.
All these, mind you, can be connected to the English “hut” and the Egyptian “Hat-Hor”.
The Egyptian ḥwt is said to mean:
« large structure (cf. Sk. koṭa – “a fort, stronghold; a shed, hut”)
« mansion (cf. Sk. kaṭa – “house, fort”; Persian kad – “house”)
« palace
« temple
« estate (Sk. keṭa – “a village, residence of peasants and farmers, small town” or
Sk. kṣetra – “landed property, land, soil; place, region, country; a house; a town” – which becomes “khet” in Hindi & other Indian languages)
Within Sanskrit itself, the most likely candidates, or the closest relations, are kaṭa, keta, kuṭa and kuṭi.
The cognate words are, as we see, numerous.
I have already mentioned in an earlier blog-post, that the Egyptian word for Horus – Her, Har, or Heru – seems to be uncannily similar to the Sanskrit Hari and Hara.
Hari is typically used for Viṣṇu & his incarnation Kṛṣṇa, while Hara (pronounced Har) is used for Shiva.
Indra is also called Hari, and so is the Sun.
Hari is one of the most ubiqituous names in Sanskrit, and applies to a host of divine beings, including Brahmā & the Moon.
It also is used for many animals:
1. the lion
2. the monkey
3. the parrot
4. the goose
5. the horse
6. the snake
7. the cuckoo.
That said, it seems Hara is closer to Har, Heru or Horus – because “Hara” often is pronounced as “Horo” in India itself.
Linguistically, the transition from Hari to Heru appears to be more strained, but is probable enough.
All these words have distinct etymological roots in both languages – and yet, if we tentatively posit a common origin of both languages – probably the original meaning is lost in time, and the sages of both cultures came up with their individual grammatical, linguistic constructions.
The relations between Egypt and India can be detected, if one searches carefully.
I doubt if anybody has done more in this field, than the now-obscure & ignored Gerald Massey.
His first important tome, The Book of Beginnings, published in 1881, in the very beginning contains this statement right beneath the published title: CONTAINING AN ATTEMPT TO RECOVER AND RECONSTITUTE THE LOST ORIGINES OF THE MYTHS AND MYSTERIES, TYPES AND SYMBOLS, RELIGION AND LANGUAGE, WITH EGYPT FOR THE MOUTHPIECE AND AFRICA AS THE BIRTHPLACE.
A bold, innovative, and noble attempt.
But I land up disagreeing with him most of the time, and reading his chaotic writings can be both exhausting & aggravating.
By now, I feel it is a futile task, to attempt to establish that world civilization originated with a particular culture, race, place, or continent.
It simply cannot be done, and the politics of it all is profoundly unhealthy.
If White Supremacy is unacceptable, Black Supremacy or Indian Supremacy, cannot be better.
As an Indian, I’d probably like to prove that everything in the world sprang out of India, but even if it can be done, probably it should not be done.
Massey makes all sorts of errors – sometimes painful, horrible ones – but he also offers priceless insights and uncovers hidden mountains of information and insights.
They are means for us, not an end.
He simply takes later words, breaks them up into component parts, and traces the components to some or the other word in Egypt.
This doesn’t seem like a valid methodology to me.
And yet, he often has a point, and makes all sorts of startling observations.
For instance:
“The sacred origin of the bishop’s apron can be illustrated hieroglyphically; it is an extant form of the figleaf or skin with which the primal parent clothed herself, and of the loin-cloth of the naked nations.
The apron of the goose or the duck is the fat skinny covering of the belly.
The apron is a Base, a garment worn from the loins to the knee in the mythical representations, in which six Moors danced after the ancient Ethiopian manner, with their upper parts naked, their nether, from the waist to the knee, covered with bases of blue.
Butler, in Hudibras, calls the butcher’s apron a Base.
The BASU was worn by Egyptians as an apron or kind of tunic.
It is found on the rectangular sarcophagus in the British Museum.
The Basau is also a sash with ends behind.
...
The name relates the garment to the Genitrix Bast, and to the feminine period,
BESH in Egyptian,
PUSH-(pa) in Sanskrit,
BOSH in Hebrew,
PISH and BISI in Assyrian,
BAZIA in Arabic, and to
Bes the beast.
After its first use the Basu became a type of the second feminine phase, the covered condition of the gestator.
Hence Bes to bear, dilate; Bes, protection, the amulet (of the true voice), the candle (cf. AR, the candle, and to conceive).
The Basu was made of the skin of the tiger or spotted hyena, the beast of blood.
It was worn by the sacrificer and the later butcher.”
Very interesting information.
Which other author gives out so much?
And yet, one has to actually verify each & every sentence, word, and claim.
Is the Egyptian Basu related to menstruation?
I am absolutely sure – on the basis of the above statement – that there is a link to a string of Sanskrit words which have something or the other to do with dress, apparel, robe etc. – rather than the more recondite & indirect concept of menstruation & covering of the privies.
In Sanskrit, veṣa means “dress, apparel, ornament, decoration, artificial exterior, assumed appearance”.
A related word, veṣṭa means “a turban” – i.e. something that is tied around, or encompasses, or covers, or surrounds, the head.
The derivative veṣṭana means “a turban; head-band, diadem, tiara; a bandage; a girdle”.
(In Egyptian, besa means “a short tunic, waist-cloth, loin-band”.)
Note that Sanskrit veṣṭ means “to tie on, wrap round (a turban &c.)” – I’m not sure why it has a very specific connection with the head.
veṣṭa may simply mean “a band; a noose”.
The Sanskrit root vas has a meaning “to put on, invest, wear, (clothes &c.); to dress”.
This leads to the most popular Sanskrit word for “dress, clothes” etc – vastra.
This leads to words like the Latin vestis, “garment, robe, clothing, dress” – and our words vest, vestment, vesture, etc.
The Sanskrit vasu has some peculiar meanings, like “a rope; a thong (?????); the tie of the yoke of a plough”.
The correspondences can be multiplied.
In Egyptian, besa is said to mean “back, loins”.
This probably has a lot to do with the “Basu” which Massey is examining.
In Sanskrit, vasana is said to be “an ornament worn by women round the loins”.
Sk. veśa (similar-sounding to, but distinct from veṣa) also means “dress, decoration; disguise, masquerade”.
A number of highly probable connections & influences emerge.
The words which have very broad, generic meanings in Sanskrit, have a more specific application, in Egyptian.
Massey tells us that Egyptian Besh refers to menstruation.
Indeed, in Egyptian, bess means “foetid matter, pus, humours, excretions”.
In Sanskrit, viṣ means “feces, ordure, excrement, impure excretion, dirt” & viś is “feces”.
It may also be noted that in many Indian languages – particularly in Eastern India – the Sanskrit word “vesh” – for clothes, dress, apparel – becomes “beso” or “bheso” – just as it tends to become “bhes” in North India.
As for the connection to the Sanskrit puṣpa, I’ll probably take up that sometime else!
Added on 2nd August, 2023:
I’d like to add one word, which slipped out of my mind earlier.
That is the Sanskrit vasti, which means:
« “the bladder;
« the lower belly, abdomen;
« the pelvis;
« the hypogastric or pubic region;
« the ends or skirt of a cloth”.
This word seems to be rooted in the Sanskrit vas, but in what precise sense does vas lead to the concepts of pelvis, gall baller or pubic region, is not very clear to me.
Massey nevertheless connects the Egyptian bes to menstruation & gestation.
Interestingly, in Sumerian, peš means “womb”.
And in Sanskrit pasas means “membrum virile”.
Words like bes & peš are the reverse, mirror-images of Sanskrit śepa, sapa etc. which all refer to “the male organ of generation”.
The sexes tend to switch, as we go from East to West.
But Sumerian ĝeš is “penis, male” – and this might just be a variant of peš, bes, and pasas.
(Like Gilgamesh becomes Bilgamesh – “g” being interchangeable with “b”, will also be interchangeable with “p”.)
As it turns out, if one digs, all sorts of curious correspondences emerge (Latin ves-ica = “urinary bladder”), but getting into them would make this note excessively lengthy.
It basically means we’re inevitably led to the private parts, the reproductive organs, and the garment used to cover it.
It makes perfect sense, that the first “vesh” or “vastra” was simply a loin-cloth – perhaps followed by some sort of elaborate headgear – because that is how we find the most primitive peoples dressed up.
The first vesh simply covered the privies – the erogenous zone, the procreative apparatus.
Most people depicted in Ancient Indian art seem to be topless, though this is very likely to be merely artistic representation.
It’s perfectly believable that most people simply covered their pelvis & thighs, in African & Asian subtropical & tropical lands.
There are other interesting points, but ... sometime later.
So Massey talks about the butcher: and in Sanskrit piś means “to hew out, carve, prepare (esp. meat)”, which leads to Sk. peśī, “a piece of flesh or meat”, and Sk. peśitṛ “one who cuts in pieces or carves, carver”, evidently in relation to meat, i.e. a butcher, though it can apply to other professions too.
This, however, is a considerably different line of words & concepts.
Or, consider this:
“The name of Old NICK has never been satisfactorily accounted for.
It is said to have been borrowed from the Danes, who had an evil genius in the shape of a sea-monster.
The Swedish NEKAN is an evil spirit of the waters that plays deluding strains of music.
No matter how it got into Europe, the NICK or NECKEN is Egyptian.
NEKA signifies to delude, provoke, be false, criminal, evil, and NAKEN has the same meaning.
The Neka personified is the monster of the deep, the dragon of the waters, the Apophis serpent, the eternal enemy of the sun and capturer of souls.
Typhon (a form of the Apophis) was red.
He dwelt in the mythical Red Sea or Pant.
His companions are described as being red in the face.
The Osirian asserts (Ch. 42) that the redness of their faces is unknown to him; and Wormius says the redness in the faces of drowned persons was ascribed to the Neka (or Old Nick) having sucked the blood out of their nostrils.
A modified form of the false deluder of the waters exists as the English NICKER, a syren.
The Yula (African) NEKIRU is the devil.”
As it turns out, the Sanskrit nakra means “crocodile, alligator” – the ultimate water-monster!!
The crocodile-alligator is one of the earliest forms of the “dragon” which was fought or killed by the “Solar” hero of ancient myths.
Indeed, all the connotations of Sk. nakra surive in the information given by Massey, because the word actually means any large aquatic or marine animal.
It should also be noted that Sk. nak means “night” – and this directly ties in to the concepts of darkness & water.
The “Devil” is a force of darkness, whose power is augmented at night, in the dark.
Massey says that the Egyptian neka signifies “to delude, provoke, be false, criminal, evil” – and in Sanskrit, nakk means “to kill, to destroy”.
He says neka (Eg.) means “to delude, play false, provoke, deride, be impious” – we may note that the Sk. nīca means “low, vile, inferior (socially or morally), base, mean (as a man or action or thought)”.
Infact, nīca also means “low, depressed, deep” as well as “short, dwarfish; small, petty, mean”.
A monster of the deep, lurking in murky waters, hiding in the depths, nigh invisible to the eye in the gloom of its environs, slithering around in stealth, eyeing its unsuspecting victim in silence, leaping upon its prey in a flash, may well originate in the word nīca.
The problem with Massey here is that he totally chooses to ignore the huge cluster of Indo-European words which can be related to his neka etc: as in words like nocturnal, noxious, necropolis, Latin nex, etc. – and Sanskrit words like naś, nāśa, and naṣṭa.
They all pertain to death, destruction, desolation, disappearance etc. which fit in perfectly with the traditional image of the evil serpent & the Devil.
Last but not the least we have Sanskrit words like naga & nāga.
The Indian nāga very often is a denizen of the waters.
Massey says: “The Swedish NEKAN is an evil spirit of the waters that plays deluding strains of music.”
Strangely enough, in Sanskrit, nagna – which basically means naked – also means “a bard accompanying an army”.
Given that bards sing – there are distinct connotations of music.
Sk. nagna also means “bare, desolate, desert” – which not only ties in with the idea of
(perilous) waters or the ocean or sea (as being a kind of fearsome wilderness or inhospitable wasteland) – but a monster that creates a desolation or wasteland, may also be denoted by the word nagna, whence the Swedish nekan.
There are other connections with Sanskrit, especially when it comes to European water-monsters like the
§ Old English Nicor,
§ German Nyx (“water-sprite”),
§ Old Norse Nykur, and
§ Dutch Necker or Nikker,
which have been connected to the Sanskrit nij, to wash.
I still think they are all traceable to the Sk. nakra, and the Indo-European words with the root nek (“to perish; to disappear”).
Point is, Massey may still be correct.
The Sanskrit nakra – and the “Indo-European” words rooted in nek – appear/s to be related to the Egyptian evil serpent neka.
(Though, naga seems to be a better contender – Sk. naga meaning snake or serpent.)
Also important is the block of Indo-European terms akin to Latin niger (“black, dark”).
The
precise etymology of the Sanskrit nakra is difficult to determine, and nakra
may just be a variation of niger, nigrum etc.
Interestingly,
there is a link between the concept of “black, dark” and the concept of “naked”
(as in Sanskrit nagna).
On a parallel note, some people have observed that the Hebrew word for the Serpent of Eden, nachash – is very close to the Sanskrit nāga.
I’d rather say – the Sanskrit nāgeśa i.e. nāgesh – i.e. King of Serpents.
And yet, I’m inclined to think that Nachash is actually related to the Sanskrit words naś and nāśa.
The “ch” or “k” or “h” has been added in the middle of the word, much later, just like Abram becomes Abraham.
There is another
very interesting dimension to “Nachash” and Indian-Sanskrit literature, which I shall
come to, sometime later.
To continue with the ideas & speculations of Gerald Massey which open up our eyes to innumerable linguistic connections between Egyptian & Indian languages ...
In the very beginning of The Natural
Genesis he writes:
“This the writer applied to the type-names of places, waters, hills, and caves in Britain.
The
result is to show that the most ancient names and words are Kamite, not Aryan
nor Semite.
That is they are words still extant in
Africa, which can be brought out of that land together with the black race, but
cannot be got into it backwards from Europe or Asia, America or Australia.
For example, it was suggested tht the name of Deruthy, the place of the
bone-cave, at the junction of the 2 rivers Gave, was identical with the
Egyptian teru, for the
river-branch.
But the writer did not then know that the
name was applied in Egypt at teruta ... the land (ta) of the
river-branch, which is the name of an Egyptian town situated on the Nile at the
junction of the Bahr-el-Yussuf.'
The first problem with this kind of
assertion, is that it is an assertion, and not a proper, logical demonstration
by a serious, conscientious, honest intellectual.
You need to first trace out the origins
of the name within the language & history of that locality & community
itself.
Names can come from various sources, or
have various origins.
A link has to be established, because
names don’t just jump up out of the ground, out of nowhere.
There is always a local explanation.
I take it that Massey is comparing the
juncture of two rivers to a river-branch,
which ultimately is compared to a tree-branch,
and thence, the tree.
That’s
why, he says, in the same book:
“Our word tree is
identical with the Egyptian teru (or tre), the shoot, branch, or
tree of time, carried in the hands of Taht the reckoner of lunar time; and teru (Eg.) is
likewise the name of time.
This is the chief inner African
type-name for the tree.
|
taro, in Legba. |
atir, in
N'goala. |
tir, in Bavon. |
|
tero, in
Kaui'e. |
tir, in Balu. |
turi, in
Timbuktu. |
|
tera, in Mose. |
atir, in
Bagba. |
daru, in
Barba. |
|
tir, and Atir, in
Papiah. |
tir, in Kum. |
ntera, in
Muntti. |
|
tir, in Momenya. |
atir, in Pati. |
|
This type is continued in the
·
Egyptian teru,
·
Greek doru or drus,
·
Welsh deru, &
·
English tree.
As food-producer the tree became the
sign of a season and a teller of time.”
Let us point out that in Sanskrit,
· taru means “a tree”
· dru means “a branch” and “tree”
·
dāru means “wood” or “timber”, also “breaking, splitting; tearing, rending, a tearer”.
In my opinion, the Sanskrit dāru also means “branch of a tree”, because in Tamil, tāru (derived from the Sk. dāru) means:
·
“tree
·
branch of a
tree
·
piece of
timber; wood
·
temporary wooden image set up in place of the stone
image when the temple is renovated”.
Also:
« Hittite taru, tāru = “wood, tree”
« Old English trēo, trēow = “tree, wood, timber, beam, log, stake, stick, grove,
cross, rood”
« Ancient Greek dóru = “wood, tree,
stem”
« Ancient Greek drýs = “tree, timber,
oak”
« Proto-Brythonic daru = “oak tree”
The word seems
to be prevalent all over the world.
What we see is that the word for tree is
almost identical in Inner Africa as well as in India.
Related is the
consonantal-cluster of dl.
Remember, the Egyptian teru is “a branch”, “a shoot”, as well as
“a
palm-shoot”.
In Sanskrit,
« dala is “a small shoot, blade, petal, leaf” and “dividing,
tearing, cutting, splitting, &c.”
« ḍāla is “a branch” – which has well survived into modern times, and used
in most Indian languages
In Tamil, this
becomes
« taḷam, “a leaf; a petal”.
« Tamil taḷir is “to shoot forth, sprout” – “to put forth
leaves” – “to flourish, prosper” – as well as “sprout, tender shoot, bud”.
« Malayalam taḷir = “bud, new leaf, shoot”
You don’t have
to go to the tree or tree-branch or river-branch, to think of branching off of
a river.
Not sure if
we’re on the right track here: because the place where 2 rivers join is different
from a place where one river “branches”
or divides, or separates, into two.
Massey’s wording
is not very clear, but since he compares the river-branch to the tree-branch
(& tree), I take it he’s referring to the second sense.
The place where
the river bifurcates, or splits, or is divided into two, or is separated
or is cut into two streams – came
come directly from Sanskrit dara, “cleaving,
breaking” as well as “stream”.
The branch bifurcates
from the stem of the tree, or the trunk/stem splits into various branches –
branches are formed by constant splitting & dividing.
Hence the
relation.
Egyptian tru is “river”, and Sanskrit dru is “to become fluid, dissolve, melt”, “to cause to
run, make flow”.
Indeed, the
Sanskrit dara means “a hole in the
ground” too – probably a cave, since
Sk. darī does mean “cave” – remember we’re talking about some cave in Britain
called “Deruthy”.
Sk. dara also means “stream” (this cave
is associated with some rivers or streams).
Sk. darita is “torn, rent, divided” – very appropriate for a place where the river
divides, or where a cave has been formed.
Egyptian terit is “destruction”.
Sk. dartṛ is “breaking”.
Sk. druta is “tree”.
Sk. darada is “a country
bordering on Kashmir, the mountains about Kashmir and above Peshawar” and “a
tribe of barbarians”.
This leads us to
words which pertaining to dividing, splitting, breaking, cutting, rending, killing,
destroying etc.
In Sumerian, dar means “to split, to slice, to shatter”.
So it is in
Sanskrit, where dara is “breaking, cleaving” and dāra (pronounced daar) means “tearing up, rending”
– from dṝ,
« “to tear, to rend, to divide or pull to pieces”
« “to burst, break asunder, split open”
« “to be split, break open, fall asunder, decay”
« “to scatter, disperse”.
So in Egyptian, ter means “to destroy, to wipe out, to efface,
to obliterate”.
In Sanskrit, darma, from dṝ, means “demolisher”; darīman means “destruction”.
The relevant Indo-European root is “der” which
means:
·
to tear, to tear apart
·
to split, to separate
·
to crack, to shatter.
On the exact same
lines, Massey himself says Egyptian taru is “to bruise, to
afflict, to rub out, to obliterate”.
Similarly:
« Sumerian tar is “to cut, to break, to destroy”
« Egyptian tar is “to destroy, to make an end of”
« Akkadian tar is “to cut, to pierce”
« African Western Chadic tiri is to “to chop”
« African Central Chadic ta-tarǝ is “to cut”
« African Low East Cushitic tarara is “cut, scratch”
« North Dravidian Malto tāre is “to cut down,
fell”
« Greek dérō is “to flay”,
« Dutch teren is “to eliminate,
efface, live, survive by consumption”,
« Old Frisian, ūr-tera is “to devastate” ,
« Swedish tära is “to fret,
consume, deplete, use up”,
« Tamil tari, “to be cut off, broken”,
« Tamil root teri, “to burst asunder, snap in twain as a rope, split;
break (tr.), cut”,
« Kannada tari, tare, “to strip off, cut off, cut”;
« Kannada tari is “cutting, slaughter”,
« Telugu tar is the root of words for “to slice, chop”,
Also consider:
« Sanskrit taḍ is “to give pain, to beat, strike, knock, strike (with
arrows), wound,
punish”,
« Sanskrit tāḍa is “beating, whipping, inflicting bodily chastisement; a
blow”.
Obviously, the
English word tear belongs to the same group.
A
last example.
This is taken from A Book of Beginnings:
“To
‘clear oneself by an oath’ was a recognised form of speech with the Egyptians,
and a mode of covenanting.
The
word ark, for oath, means to bind.
(Cf. Latin arca (“chest, box”), arceō (“I defend”), arcānus (“hidden, secret”).
Also, probably related to the Latin arcus – the English words arc & arch.
Consider Proto-Indo-European lewg, “to bend”)
To
clear oneself by an oath is a common form of speech with English boys; one of
these being ‘By Goll.’
This
is the holy Cornish oath.
The
hand is held aloft whilst the oath is taken.
Goll means the hand, or rather the fist,
for the hand is clenched in token of covenant.
The
equivalent ker (Eg.) is the claw, to claw hold, to embrace; and in Suffolk golls are
large, clumsy, claw-like hands.
The
Irish swear this oath in the form of be-gorre.
The
custom denotes the making of a covenant and swearing by the hand, in the
primitive condition of claw, when laying hold was literally seizing with the
claw.
By
hook or by crook was then by the fingers in the talon stage.
Ark (Eg.), to bind, is symbolised by a
tie, which is later than the claw.”
Okay,
good.
I’m
not sure where does Massey get all his information from, but I take it for granted
that it was accurate & verified, at least when he wrote it.
I’ve
not come across this data anywhere else.
He
gives a long list of related terms (green highlights mine):
“This
name of the claw is
also that of the hand in
various languages, especially the African and Indian (he means American Indian), as the
kere in Mano;
kora, Gio;
koara, Basa;
ekarowo, Eafen;
kara, Mobba;
khur, Dhimal;
kar, Sokpa;
gala, Mantshu;
khal, Tobolsk;
kaliock, Lopcha;
karam, Malabar;
kar, Hindustani;
khur, Dami;
ghar, Mongol;
cheir, Greek;
cior, Irish; and
kiers, the finger, in Gura;
akartj, the finger, Biafada;
agra, the finger, in Sanskrit.
In
the earlier form of ker, the claw, we recover khepr,
the beetle-type of laying hold.”
It
was egregiously unnecessary to jump from ker to khepr, but that’s another issue.
Do
note what little piece of information Massey offers us, at this
point: that in Sanskrit, agra means finger.
This makes it look like the Sanskrit word (agra) is some sort of secondary, distant derivation
from a primary Egyptian-African (ker).
But let’s see: in Sanskrit,
the word for hand is: kara!!
This is almost identical to the Egyptian ker as claw, and other related words from Africa, in which the
hand & claw are interchangeable.
Massey
offers it as a “Hindustani” word, well knowing that “Hindustani” is a much
later development quite irrelevant to the discussion of prehistoric origins.
In Sanskrit, kara also means an
elephant’s trunk and the claws of a crab.
Similarly, kari also
means the hand.
Another
probable word is karaka.
I
don’t know from where Massey got the meaning of agra for finger.
According
to the dictionary, fingers are called agra-kara, i.e. the forepart or front (agra) of
the hand (kara).
It
is important to observe how information is presented in a specific way to make
a specific, desired impression.
One can obviously see a very close
relationship between the Sanskrit kara, kari, & karaka, or agrakara, and the
Egyptian ker – they are almost identical.
When it comes to
the word goll, Massey also
omits to tell us that there’s a Sanskrit word – kuli –
which means precisely that: the
hand.
The
Sk. kuli seems a better contender as the original
of the British goll, than an Ancient Egyptian ker.
Sk. kul is to accumulate, to gather.
To
stress his point, he says something about the golls being claw-like, but this is an input
he selects to give, the aspect he chooses to stress: there might be much more to
the goll than being claw-like, & in any case, variations like
this are perfectly normal: the goll being the hand, paw, or claw.
For
instance, maybe goll – as the fist – relates to Sk. gola (akin to Greek gýros),
“round” or “globular” – the fist being a rounded lump-like, a balled up
figure?
It’s
interesting that the Sanskrit gula means “the
glan penis”, and the fist at the end of the hand
could well bear comparison to it.
Generally,
though, I think goll is taken to be the hand, and would be directly related to the Sanskrit kuli.
The
word claw itself seems to be related to ker,
kara, kari, kuli, goll, etc.
Amongst the Dravidian languages of India,
in
Telugu,
«
gōru means “a nail, a claw”; and
«
kālu means
“a
leg, a foot, a claw, a talon”.
«
gillu means “to pinch, or nip with the nails”; “to
remind by giving a pinch”.
in
Tamil,
«
ukir is “the nail of a
finger or toe, a talon, claw”.
«
kiḷḷu is “nip, pinch, pluck”.
«
kōru (kōri-), kōlu (kōli-) are
roots which form words relating to: “baling, drawing up (as with a bucket), gathering with a sweep of the
arm”
in
Malayalam,
«
ukir is “finger-nail,
toe-nail, claw”
«
gōru is “to draw, gather or sweep together, fish with a net to
which a handle is attached, plunder”
«
gōri “drawing, drawing in, raking, a kind of rake,
attracting, decoying”
in
Kannada,
«
ugur is “nail, claw”.
In
Kolami, Naikri, Naiki,
«
gōr is “nail”.
I
have included terms which pertain to taking, seizing, grasping, holding, etc.:
drawing, gathering, raking, plundering etc. are all closely related concepts: and
one may draw comparisons between these
concepts, and the concept of “hand”.
(Thus, Monier-Williams, in giving the meanings of the Sk. word muṣṭi,
writes “the clenched
hand, fist (perhaps orig. ‘the hand closed to grasp anything
stolen’)”.
The Sk. word kara, for hand,
means “the doer”: the names
assigned to various objects come from some or the other attribute, positioning,
function, or process, or activity involved, as from their shape or origin.
The elephant is known as “karin” – from its trunk, kara, which is compared to a hand (kara) – because an elephant uses its trunk in the way humans or monkeys use their hands.
In this case, the elephant gets its name from its trunk, the kara – but when it is called “gaja”, the name is derived from “gaj” – “to roar”.)
Amongst related terms, in Sanskrit, one may consider:-
«
kṣura, which abrades to khura, is
§
“the hoof of
a cow;
§
a horses’s
hoof;
§
the foot of
a bedstead”;
«
kṣura-vat means “endowed with hooves or claws”, which means that kṣura/ khura would mean claw too.
As
such, I think it’s logical that Britain is much closer to Egypt than India, and
would be more heavily influenced – directly – by Ancient Egypt, than by Ancient
India.
What
we see is that there are many words which seem to be either common to, or very closely
related between, Ancient Egypt-Africa, and India (whether Indo-European or
Dravidian).
The
forgotten pioneer of Africa, Gerald
Massey, is perhaps the only intellectual I
know, who went into such great depth & detail, to point out the
similarities between African-Egyptian cultures, and the other cultures of the
world.
Intellectuals
have been, strangely enough, very reticent, very reluctant, to draw comparisons
– content to compare “Indo-European” cultures with the Sumerian & Semitic
cultures.
Massey goes way beyond – mostly with boldness & genius –
but occasionally being manipulative & sly.
He
gives several lists of words in his books, showing correspondences between
Egyptian, and Indian, Irish, Maori, & Hebrew languages.
They’re
worth perusing.
The
precise relation of Ancient India and Ancient Africa is of tremendous interest
to me, as it is, I’m sure, to many others.
Of
course, Sumeria is an important part of the jigsaw puzzle, as are other lesser
known cultures, like the Siberian.
If one looks very closely, it becomes more & more difficult to decide
precisely where it all began.
It is very clear, though, that all ancient cultures were interrelated in more ways than the establishment is willing to admit.
