Tej K. Bhatia and Kazuhiko Machida, The Oldest Grammar of  Hindūstānī. Contact, Communication and Colonial Legacy.  Historical and Cross-Cultural Contexts, Grammar Corpus and  Analysis. 3 Vols. Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages  and Cultures of Asia and Africa, 2008. Vol. 1: 188 pp., ISBN  978-4-86337-014-2. Vol. 2: 218 pp., ISBN 978-4-86337-015-  9. Vol. 3: 77 pp., ISBN 978-4-86337-016-6.  The work under review is based on a detailed study of the Hindūstānī  grammar written in Dutch by Jean Josua Ketelaar (Kettler) in 1698.  The manuscript was never published and until the 1930s was  considered to be lost.  Volume 1 consists of Part 1 “Historical and Cross-Cultural  Contexts” by Tej K. Bhatia and Part 2 “Grammar Corpus and  Analysis” by Tej K. Bhatia and Kazuhiko Machida. Volume 2  contains the “Lexical Corpus and Analysis” [Ketelaar’s Section 1–45]  and Volume 3 presents the facsimile edition of the manuscript in its  entirety.  At the outset it needs to be stressed that deciphering the  manuscript was a tremendous task. A rather florid style of writing, the  idiosyncretic way of transcribing Hindustānī words and blotches of  ink on many pages made reading and even more so understanding the  contents extremely difficult. Ketelaar did not provide a guide to the  pronunciation of his Dutch transcription, which was not always  consistent and was also influenced by German (Vol. 1: 38–39).  It goes to the credit of the editors cum commentators to have  undertaken and successfully completed this task despite all odds, thus  making a valuable source of the language history and of the  grammatical tradition in North India available to a wider public.  Information on the author and the only existing manuscript of his  work is provided by Bhatia in the first part of Volume 1. Ketelaar,  whose original name was Kettler, was born in 1659 as the son of a  bookbinder in Elbing on the Baltic Sea. After a chequered, partly  criminal, career he went to India to work for the East India Company.  He rose from clerk to “senior merchant” and was accredited as Dutch  envoy to the Mughal emperors Bahadur Shah I. and Jahandar Shah. In  1715 he was appointed Dutch envoy to Persia. Ketelaar travelled  extensively in Rajasthan and central India, Persia and Arabia. He died 
BOOK REVIEWS  318  during a mission in Persia in 1718. His interest in languages was  based on his excellent talent as a communicator (26–27).  The only existing manuscript of the grammar unearthed so far  was copied by Ketelaar’s close friend and associate Isaac van der  Hoeve in Lucknow in 1698. There might have been more copies  which would explain the differences in David Mills’ Latin translation  (or reworking) which was published in 1843 and largely obscured the  original, leading to several errors and misconceptions. Bhatia obtained  a copy of the manuscript from an archive in the Netherlands (19–21).  It consists of 144 pages (excluding blank and unnumbered pages) of  10-by-16 inch paper, bound like an Indian register. The title page is  followed by a foreword by the copyist, a brief introduction by  Ketelaar, the table of contents and the main body of the work (lexicon  and grammar), a Hindustānī (Bhatia: “Hindī”!) translation of some  Christian texts and an index of Dutch words with page numbers  indicating where the “Hindī words” (31) are to be found.  Microfilming of the manuscript started in 1981, followed by a  transcription in three phases: first by Prof. Christine Boots, a specialist  of medieval and modern Dutch, secondly by Professor Koul and  Bhatia, and thirdly scrutinized by Prof. Herman Olphen and his Dutch  speaking colleagues at the University of Texas (2

. This elaborate  procedure, although only the first step toward the present publication,  already gives an impression of the enormous amount of work which  went into it.  In Part 1 Bhatia also deals with the Hindī grammatical tradition  and its colonial context, referring to his earlier works on this topic. He  aptly describes Ketelaar’s work as a “religious-colonial-business”  model of grammar (51) and stresses that even Ketelaar’s errors are a  “gold mine for researchers in (real-time-) language processing, second  language acquisition, sociolinguistics, language variation (…). Most  importantly, the grammar is a time capsule and provides a window  through which to view perspectives on the nature of bilingualism/  multilingualism and the society in seventeenth century India.” (43) In  his comparative lists of Persian, Dutch and Latin words Ketelaar  “succeeded in sowing the seeds of comparative–historical methods”  (44). Thus, although Bhatia criticizes Ketelaar for his failure to  understand aspiration and retroflexion, he duly appreciates his overall  achievements. 
Part 2 of Volume 1 presents Ketelaar’s grammar sections 46–47  (Persian) and 48–49 (Hindustani), section 50 (analysis of names),  section 51 (analysis of homophonous words, section 52 (explanation  of words) and three Christian texts in Dutch and Hindustānī. Section  45 intersects with the lexicon which is presented in Volume 3. English  translations are provided for all introductory and accompanying texts  as well as for the entries of Ketelaar’s tables. Page numbers of the  manuscript are inserted throughout thus facilitating easy access to the  original.  In Volume 2 Ketelaar’s tables are presented in the following form:  Page Section Dutch English  Hindu-  stānī  Target  Form  Translit-  eration  Etymology  /Notes  Persian  The editors explain their “Target Form” as the “perceived  word/phrase (i.e. target word) that Ketelaar had in mind. It may or  may not map neatly on a (modern) Hindī form. The target Hindustani  form is given in the Devanagari script. It gives the best possible  approximation of the target form/choice” (Vol. 1: 29, Vol. 2: ii). That,  however, seems not always to be the case. Quite a number of the  incongruities between Ketelaar’s forms and the “target forms” in  Devanagari are based on the replacement of “Hindustānī” by “Hindī”  throughout the tables.  The justification given by Bhatia is that in his work he uses Hindī  in the all-encompassing sense of Hindī-Hindustānī-Urdū. In accor-  dance with this view, he claims that it is “Hindī” which is spoken in  Pakistan and that “Hindī” has 600 million speakers (including second  language speakers) (Vol. 1: 1). He mentions that no “hazard-free” or  “anxiety-free” label exists for this language and hints at the religious,  political and emotional affiliations which the labels “Hindī” and  “Urdū” have come to represent in India (ibid.: 2). But would it then  not have to be the safest option to stick to the label used by Ketelaar?  This is not only a question of naming, it has much wider implications  because defining Ketelaar’s target forms as “Hindī” leads to a number  of misrepresentations and is highly questionable when we think of the  oral information compiled by Ketelaar. His sources included a number  of languages other than “Hindī”, and his target in no way was modern 
BOOK REVIEWS  320  standard Hindī, but this is exactly what the tables attempt to present in  Devanāgarī and in transliteration. Bhatia was not unaware of this  problem, though. Mentioning the difficulties in “identifying” and  “selecting” the modern Hindī target he refers to the fact that Ketelaar  had input from “more than one variety of Hindī” in addition to Persian  and Arabic (2

. Many of the words Ketelaar heard from his  informants in all likelihood had their written equivalents, if at all, in  scripts other than Devanāgarī, quite a number of them probably in a  script derived from the Perso-Arabic which was later developed into  the Urdu script. Bhatia follows Chatterjī in terming Ketelaar’s target  language as “bāzār Hindī” which, however, shows in-depth familiarity  with “High Hindustānī” vocabulary (50). He admits that Ketelaar’s  grammar “does not exhibit any preference for standard or prestigious  Hindī forms” (51). Why then are most of the forms presented in  Devanāgarī in the tables in Part 2 of Volume 1 and throughout  Volume 2 modern standard Hindī forms? Such decisions appear to be  informed by the politics of language rather than by linguistic  considerations. Apparently the editors have deviated from the  principle quoted above in many cases because they were too narrowly  fixated on modern standard Hindī. Thus, forms such as “kon” (kõ,  postposition marking objects) and “naom” (nāõ/nāv, name) were  common in older forms of Hindī/Urdū. As “target forms”, however,  only the respective modern standard forms (ko, Vol. 1: 89ff, and nām,  ibid: 180) are given. Ketelaar’s “aundhoe” has been replaced by Hindī  “sā̃ ṛ” (Vol 1, p. 96) although the correspondent form would have been  “ā̃ḍū(ā)” (bull) as it is cited in Platts as well as in modern Urdu  dictionaries.  Apart from this conceptual problem, a number of Persian and  Arabic words have also not been correctly identified, e.g. “fasel”  obviously denotes fāzil, not “faizal” (Vol. 1: 142), “erradet chan”  pobably is irādat xān, not “?ardata xāna ” (ibid.: 145), “raand” is rān,  not “?ḍā̃ṛa” (Vol 2: 

, and “gomasta” is meant to represent gumāśtah  (ibid: 17).  There are other misinterpretations and minor writing and  formatting errors. However, given the condition of the manuscript, it  is no small wonder that the editors succeeded in deciphering as much  as they did. I would suggest that whosoever detects any errors or is  able to fill lacunae in the tables should communicate her/his findings 
BOOK REVIEWS 321 to the editors. As is to be expected, a work of this scope and complexity offers ample opportunity for further discoveries and differing interpretations of forms. It goes to the credit of the editors to have made this exceptional text accessible to the community of South Asianists all over the world. Christina Oesterheld South Asia Institute, Heidelberg University