In the first part, we saw the general characteristics of language and how words signify deeper truths and meanings. In the second part, we shall see how Sri Ram Swarup develops the idea of roots, synonyms, and multiple meanings in the evolution of language.
Roots
Etymological Roots and Seed Sounds
Etymology is the study of word origins, language transmission, and sound shift laws. Etymology reveals that words often consist of several component parts. Different languages transmit the root word, which is the basic core part. Etymology studies these root-words and cognate (similar) words. It also studies etymons (earlier forms of a word), morphemes (a meaningful and further indivisible morphological unit), vocables (utterances or writing fixed in a culture), phonetics, and meanings across time and space.
Words become parts of a family, brothers and sisters, cousins, and in-laws. When the generations that speak a particular language die, words stay, and their meanings stay with them. In population dispersions, the deeper, unconscious part of the words preserves old memories.
A word often consists of several limbs, some of which are more essential than others. The most vital parts are the radical root and its core sound. This radical root takes on many forms, enters into different combinations, and transmits to various languages. But the essence of life resides there. We could refer to the entire rich vocabulary of the Sanskrit language as 2,000 roots. Panini gives a list of 2,343 roots, excluding the Vedic roots, which he omits. Of these, only 500 are in use today.
These roots are generally monosyllabic, consisting of only a vowel or one or two consonants combined with a vowel. Affixes, suffixes, infixes, prepositions, and compounds expand these forms, creating an edifice of half a million words. We can see the same process at work in other inflectional languages like Persian, Arabic, Greek, and Latin.
In Arabic, a simple root with two or three consonants could have hundreds of derivatives. For example, the root ktb, meaning to write, gives kitab (book), katib (writer), maktub (letter), maktab (office), kutab (primary school), and so on. The Persian language is also inflectional (modifiable) in character. A root like guftan, to speak, gives guftah (that which has been said), guft (saying), guftagu (mutual talk), guftani (worth saying), and so on.
Despite being a Germanic language, the vocabulary of English heavily borrows from Latin and French. Many of its words are inflectional in character, though this is not widely realized. For instance, in the Sanskrit language, the verbal root da, meaning to give, gives rise to the words dana (giving), praddna (gift), abhidana (bestowing for a purpose), and so on. Similarly, in English, words such as donation, endowment, dowry, anecdote, and data originate from the same root. But English is tending to become, at least in its names, nomenclature, and word-formations, an isolating type of language. People tend to forget their interconnections, family relationships, history, and growth.
An average English-knowing man may still see that prefixes and suffixes have gone into the making of such words as im-possible, il-legal, al-mighty. However, few people would guess that words like “af-fair,” “am-brosia,” and “an-oint” are actually combinations of words and prepositions. Similarly, who could guess that the following words, pend-ent, pend-ul-um, pens-ible, and dis-pense, share a common root, Latin pendére, meaning to hang, and are allied to a still older Sanskrit spand, meaning to vibrate? Similar to the Sanskrit language, the Greek and Latin languages also attach prepositions and affixes to basic roots and words, resulting in compound words with altered meanings.
The Unity of Words
Verbs, nouns, and adjectives are distinct only grammatically. In thought, they melt into one another. Behind seemingly dissimilar words, we find a syllable, a nucleus, that endures through various changes in the outer structure. For instance, the Sanskrit root stha transforms into words such as sthala (place, firm land, tableland), sthanu (stationary, firm), sthana (place, position, posture), and so on. Prefixes to the root give another order of words with modified meanings like adhi-stha (to dwell), anu-stha (to perform), and ava-stha (to stand still).
Other Indo-Aryan languages also use this word, albeit with slight variations due to sound shifting. In Greek, the word is histasthai, which means to stand; in Latin, it is stare, and in German, it is stehen. The original root influences modern English words like “stand,” “state,” “station,” “stationary,” “statue,” “apostasy,” and so on.
The Sanskrit root bhi has given us hundreds of words, like bhava (existence), bhavana (abode, mansion), bhiiti (existence, might, prosperity), and so on. The addition of certain prefixes has given other words like pra-bhu (excelling, mighty, lord), pra-bhava (might, power, majesty), pari-bhava (insult, disgrace, injury, contempt), etc. The Greek form of this root is phynai (to be borne by nature) and phyein (to bring forth). The English language has derived words such as physic, physics, physiology, and physician from this root.
There are numerous examples that demonstrate the unity of words across seemingly dissimilar languages. The roots provide a common thread. Once we choose a specific sound or syllable to represent a specific seed-idea, or action, the rest of the process becomes relatively clear. A seed-syllable raises a family of words that may appear to be unrelated. For example, what is there in common between a statue, stall, statistics, and apostasy? The many examples show that a word is a living thing. It grows and unfolds its meanings in a hundred directions. The process is unconscious, yet upon closer examination, it is truly intelligent and wise.
Words establish a shared understanding of the fundamental concept. The terms “dip,” “deep,” “dive,” and “dove” serve as examples. Their shared root-syllable origin highlights this relationship. Similarly, in Sanskrit, we have the words ratha (chariot), rathin (charioteer), and rathyd (carriage, highway), illustrating the same principle. In Sanskrit, one word for a tree is vrksa. Some derive it from the root brh, which means both to tear, pluck, and also grow; others connect it with the root vrasc, to cut down, hew.
Similar to words like erosion and corrosion, the word ‘rat’ also derives from the Latin rodere, to gnaw. This likely stems from the Sanskrit word rad, which means to bite or scratch, and gives rise to the word rada, which refers to a tooth. Another name for a rat is mu=s+ika or mu=s+a in Sanskrit. The verbal root mis, which means to steal, is the source of this term. This verbal root also gives us the Greek mus, Latin mis, Swedish mus, Russian muish, German maus, and the English word mouse. The mouse has contributed to the creation of several other words, including the word “muscle.” A muscle must have looked like a little mouse (Latin musculus) to the name givers.
Development from the Root to the Word
A word does not merely develop the meaning of its root. Association with other words of similar sound or import modifies its meanings. For instance, the word “surround” originates from the Latin word undare, which means to flow, or the Sanskrit word und, which means a wave. Latin unda, a wave, had the sense of ‘overflowing’, ‘plentiful’. These two senses permeate all words such as abundant, redundant, abound, and surround, which are derived from the Latin word undare. Although the primary meaning of the word ‘surround’ was ‘overflowing’, its association with the word ’round’, which has a quite different derivation, has modified its meaning. Therefore, the term “surround” now refers to the act of enveloping, encompassing, rather than abounding.
The meaning of a root syllable is broad and protean, capable of many applications. Sometimes a stem gives rise to words that develop their various potential meanings; at other times, a single word must adapt and express the multiple meanings of its root. For instance, consider the words ‘satisfactory’, ‘sate’, and ‘satiate’. All are derived from the Latin sat, satis (enough), satur (full); but while the ‘enough’ of a thing could ‘satisfy’ one, it could’ sate’ another. Therefore, the same stem yields two words, each expressing a different possibility within the mind. Satiation makes for weariness, tiredness, and eventual sadness. Even though these meanings seem contradictory, these words originate from the same root.
These two senses, higher and lower, appear to be inherent in the meaning of any stem. The word ‘morose’ derives from the Latin morosus, self-willed. In a positive sense, it meant scrupulous; in a lower sense, it meant peevish. The word ‘moral’, like the word ‘morose’, derives from the same source, Latin mor from mos, custom, will. ‘Moral’ now means ethical behaviour, while morose, from the same source, means someone sullen and gloomy. Of the two senses inherent in a stem, sometimes one age develops one sense, another age develops another sense.
In any case, a word typically carries multiple inherent meanings within its stem. Sometimes we drop one meaning and take up another, or place one in the background and place another in the forefront. The word ‘cavalier’ derives from Latin caballus, a horse, and means a horseman. In its higher sense, it meant a gallant, chivalrous person. But it also means a debonair, one given to off-hand dismissal of men and matters. The word ‘chivalrous’ too had the same two senses. It derives from Old French cheval, a horse, and meant a mounted man-at-arms. Then it came to describe his qualities of martial valour and knightly skill. Later on, it began to describe a specific social class of distinguished gentlemen.
Words Carrying Psychological and Deeper Connections
In addition to words with a historical background, there are also words that express deeper moral truths without a historical context. For example, the word ‘virtue’ has a Sanskrit ancestor, “vira,” meaning brave. The Latin word uir, meaning man, or uirtis, meaning manly, is its immediate source. Subsequently, it evolved to signify virtue in the contemporary context of ‘excellence’ and ‘goodness’. Convention does not join these meanings, but a psychic force, an inner nuclear pull, and an inner spiritual appropriateness do. A word carries inherent meanings, some of which manifest while others remain in their seed form.
These meanings are consistent even when two distinct words from different languages originate from different roots. For instance, the word ‘beauty’ originates from the Latin word ‘bellus’, meaning handsome, fine, and fair. However, bellus itself is a specific variant of the word bonus, which means good. Bonus in turn connects beauty to ‘bounty’ through bonitas. Some people also associate these concepts with the Vedic Duvas of honour, reverence, worship, and gift. Thus, the unconscious wisdom of the mind sees a connection between beauty, goodness, and liberality.
‘Glad’ typically connotes cheerfulness and happiness, but its original Anglo-Saxon connotation was ‘shining,’ ‘bright’. The old Germanic form ‘glatt‘ also denoted smoothness and evenness. It also shares a Scandinavian connection with the word ‘glade’, meaning an open space within a wooded area. The mind has perceived a link between joy, light, and space. In Sanskrit, the words Prasanna and Prasada, both derived from the root pra-sad, bear a psychological resemblance to the aforementioned concepts rather than etymological ones. The word Pra-sad means to sit down, to settle down, to grow clear and bright, and to become satisfied. In these concepts, the flow from one meaning to another is fairly obvious. Some words, particularly in the higher realm, have the ability to unite even seemingly opposite concepts. For instance, Hindus apply both the auspicious “Siva” and the terrible “Rudra” to the same God.
Thus, in conclusion, words develop from root syllables and branch off into several pathways. During their development, they incorporate new historical experiences, which in turn shape the seed meanings of the seed syllables. A stem could develop in hundreds of directions, but a language develops only some of its possibilities. One language develops one possibility; another language develops another. One language may lose the memory of its ancestry, while words in a sister language may retain it. All these factors—sound shifts, developments of seed-syllables in different directions, changed meanings under new circumstances, forgetfulness of original forms—contribute to making a new language out of an old one.
Synonyms
Is a name a mere label, or does it express in some way the truth of its object? The study of history and the process of naming reveals that, whenever a new thing needed a name, an old, functionally related word designated it. The study of the history of words led us to the study of the roots in which their root meanings reside. A vocabulary as a whole is built upon the foundation of a thousand or two thousand seed words. There is nothing arbitrary in the birth of those words. Those words developed the multiple meanings inherent in the seed word.
The majority of words in a language are explained by them. As these words unfold themselves, they express the nature and attributes of their objects and bring out their mutual relationships. But are these enough explanations? For instance, even if the English word ‘dog’ suffices, does it serve as more than just a label for a specific object, given that the same object could be equally well-indicated by words that differ in sound? Will it be satisfactory to say that words in different languages embodying different speech sounds express the same subtle sound conveying the same object—the dog?
Common Source of Words in Different languages
Any object invokes more than one suggestion and one idea. No object is simple enough to be conveyed only by one root word. Therefore, generally, a language has several words to describe several ideas suggested by the same object. Also, one language may develop one suggestion; another language may develop another suggestion. This could explain the existence of different words in different languages, as well as multiple words within the same language.
For example, a river evokes many images and thus many names. In Sanskrit, its various names are nimnaga (moving and going down); samudraga (joining the sea); and tarangini (full of waves). The roaring sound, nada and nadi, from a Sanskrit root nad, means to thunder, to roar, to cry. The word sindhu originates from the root sidh, which means to go, and it develops the idea of movement. In English, the word ‘river’ originates from the verb ‘rive’, which means to split or tear, but it lacks a specific name for a river, thereby suggesting a ‘roaring noise’. The word ‘stream’, which originates from the Greek word rhein, conveys the idea of ‘flowing’. The Sanskrit word sru, which means to flow, has its ancestral form, srotas. Besides ‘river,’ the verb ‘rive’ also gives us the words ‘rift’ and ‘rifle.’ Similarly, the root sru provides us with the words “stream” and “rhythm,” which refer to harmonious movements. It also gives us the words ‘rheum’, discharge from the lungs or nostrils, ‘catarrh’, and ‘diarrhoea.’ Etymologically speaking, ‘river’ belongs to the family of ‘rift’ and ‘rifle’; and’stream’ to that of ‘rhythm’, ‘catarrh’, ‘rheum’, and ‘diarrhoea.’
Let us take a few ordinary objects like fire and water and see what kind of names they have given birth to in some of the languages of the Indo-European family. ‘Fire’ evokes multiple ideas, suggestions, and emotions. It glows; it shines; it blazes; it heats; it cooks; and so on. In Sanskrit, it has many names. Sanskrit names it anala (from the root an, to breathe), agni (from the root ag, to move tortuously), tejas (from the root tij, sharp), and so on. The physical qualities become psychic and spiritual attributes. “Arcismat” does not merely mean resplendent; it becomes the name of one of the ten stages through which a Buddha must pass before becoming a Buddha. The Sanskrit root pu, which means to purify, originally derived the English word ‘fire’. In Sanskrit, the root has given us the word pavaka, which purifies—another name for fire. The Greek word was pyr, German feuer, Danish, and Swedish jyr.
The root pi gave us the words ‘pure’ and ‘fire’; ‘fire’ in its turn provided us the word ‘fiery’. Despite their apparent differences, the same object suggests all three words. These ideas are physical and basic and are found in all the languages, but psychological ideas based on them are differently treated in different languages and at different times.
Fire warms. The English word ‘thermal’ carries this sense, originating from the Greek word ‘thermos’, meaning hot, or the Latin word ‘formus’, meaning warm, hot. Some people also ultimately derive the word ‘thermal’ from the Sanskrit word gharma, which means heat or warmth. Fire’s suggestion of heat has given rise to a unique set of words. In English, these words are calory, caldron, cauldron, and calefaction. The word “calory” originates from the Latin word “calére,” which means “to be hot,” and also gives rise to the term “caldaria,” which refers to a hot bath.
‘Estuary’ means a water passage where the tide meets a river current, especially an arm of the sea at the lower end of a river. The word ‘estuary’ originates from the Latin word ‘aestus‘, which means ‘boiling’ or ‘tide’, and shares similarities with the Greek word ‘aestas‘, which means ‘summer’, and their Sanskrit ancestor ‘indh‘, which means ‘to kindle’. A river current generates heat or warmth when it meets the sea tide. Perhaps the term “estuary” originated from this concept. Sanskrit has another word, agni, the most common name for fire. Its Lithuanian equivalent is ugnis, and in Slav it is ogni. In English, this gives indirectly the word ignition, derived from Latin ignis. We no longer use Ingle, the Celtic name for fire.
For another example, consider the common yet significant object that the word ‘water’ represents. In Sanskrit, there are many words for it, like vari, jala, udaka, toyam, apa, nira, ambhas, and paniyam. The words must have originated from a variety of sources and evolved into distinct concepts inspired by water or its various forms. One language developed one sense; another dropped it altogether. One language formed a word to develop a particular suggestion of the object; another language borrowed it as a mere designation to indicate that object in a general way.
The Sanskrit word var or vari means water, also giving us the word varsa, rain. Vari still means water in Sanskrit, as it did long ago. But in English, it retains that connected sense only in a disguised form, as in the word ‘urine’, itself derived from the Latin zrina and Greek ouron. The Anglo-Saxon word is waer, meaning the sea. The Icelandic words are ar, drizzling rain, and ver, the sea. Thus, we can observe how the senses shift, yet the overall meaning stays consistent. We derive the Sanskrit word udaka from the root und or ud, which means to flow out, to wet, or to bathe. The meaning of udaka is similar to that of English water, Swedish vatten, Old Norse vatn, Russian voda and vodka (water and little water), Greek hudor, and Latin unds.
We can now better understand why the object “dog” has multiple names in different languages, as well as multiple names within the same language. We often forget the origin of the word dog, yet it has spawned another word, doggedness, which symbolises the tenacity and obstinacy that a dog embodies. Sanskrit has many names for dogs—bhasaka, ratri jagara, vakra puccha, kukkura, etc. Latin canis meant a dog, and it had a particular reference to the family (canidae), which included dogs, wolves, jackals, and foxes. It has contributed words like “canine,” “kennel,” and even “cynic” and “cynosure” to the English language. Latin canis is a variation of the Sanskrit svan. The purpose of different names was to develop different senses of a thing. Only later did time erode some of these distinctions.
Words and Thought: United In Essence
Not only can an object evoke a variety of suggestions and ideas, but a wide range of objects, experiences, and situations can also evoke the same idea. This provides a new point of unity between different objects on the one hand and their names on the other. For instance, the terms menace, danger, threat, hazard, risk, and peril have similar meanings, despite their unique nuances. However, diverse circumstances have called for their use. The word ‘menace’ originates from the Latin verb éminére, which means to jut out or project.
‘Danger’ is from Latin dominus, master; ‘Dangerous’ in Mediaeval English meant ‘haughty’ (like a master) and hence difficult and likely to inflict injury. The word ‘threat’ originates from its ancestral Anglo-Saxon form, which refers to a threat, a crowd, a throng of people, or overcrowding. The original meaning of the word ‘hazard’ was a game of chance played with dice from an Arabic word al-zahr, the die; this gave us the Spanish word azar, unlucky throw (at cards, etc.), unforeseen disaster.
‘Coward’, ‘pusillanimous’, ‘effeminate’, ‘timid’, and ‘timorous’, broadly mean the same, but the situations that invoke it are different. The figure of an animal dropping its tail suggested the word ‘coward’. The Old French word coe, which means tail (Italian coda), and the suffix ard combine to form the word. ‘Pusillanimous’ derives from Latin pusillus, very small, and L. animus, mind, soul. Therefore, pusillanimous refers to a person who exhibits behavior akin to a small mind. Concepts such as lack of courage, lack of resolve, and contemptible timidity arose from this.
Words like ‘heavy’, ‘weighty’, and ‘ponderous’ have a similarity of meaning, though they come from different experiences. ‘Heavy’ is that which is difficult to heave. The term ‘Weighty’ originates from the Old English word wegan, which signifies difficulty in carrying; it shares similarities with the Latin word uehere, which means to carry or transport, and the even older Sanskrit word vah, which means to move or carry. The Latin word ponderare, which means to weigh, is the source of the word ‘ponderous’, which refers to something weighty or unwieldy and gives us the word ‘pound’, a unit of measurement for weight.
Thus, outside objects could vary, but the corresponding basic experience could remain the same. This fact has important implications. Do these common qualities of experience belong to things or to thought? Are thought and its objects truly as exclusive and separate as we perceive them to be? Another implication is that a particular language is not the mere product of a particular environment, economic system, or social culture. Nations and races that belong to different social systems, levels of culture, and environments are not necessarily different in their basic life experiences. Thus, despite their apparent dissimilarity, many objects and names with different etymological origins come together in a shared experience.
Multiple Levels of Meanings and their Underlying Unity
A word has multiple meanings through various channels. The meanings of a word also exist in different layers and modes. The primary physical and sensuous meanings support a secondary and tertiary layer of psychological or intellectual meanings. This does not imply that the physical meanings are basic and the psychological and intellectual meanings are derivatives. This is simply based on a specific viewpoint.
Burning, heating, and shining possess certain physical qualities that are easily associated with fire. However, they also connect to psychological and moral concepts, such as energy, eagerness, and vigor. Similarly, water suggests the more physical ideas of moistening, sprinkling, and soaking; it also refers to concrete things like a stream or an ocean. However, phrases like “make one’s mouth water” and “keep one’s head above water” convey more meaning. An ocean can stand for many ideas: an unsurmountable obstacle, something that divides, unplumbed depths, infinity, the principle of life, and immortality. The word ‘stone’ denotes not merely a mineral substance, but it also stands for ideas and qualities of inflexibility, obduracy, and insensitivity. Earth, or soil, denoted by the Latin word humus, gives us such larger ideas as homo, man (the earthly one), humanity, and homage. ‘Flower’ also stands for the idea of development and flourishing. Similarly, fruit conveys the idea of progeny and results.
One school says that such words (like flower) are merely names for certain physical facts and that their other non-sensuous meanings are just extensions. Another school says that they are names for larger ideas, intellectual and moral in essence; physical facts merely exemplify them on a physical plane. Which comes first? Without going into further detail, it is crucial to acknowledge the intimate relationship between the physical, psychological, and spiritual realms. A word exists simultaneously at several levels.
“Eagles do not breed doves” and “the raven does not hatch a lark” are examples of two widely different animals expressing the same truth. The phrase ‘When the fox preaches, then beware of your geese’ conveys truths that extend beyond their literal meanings. In fact, every creature, however humble—a fly, a flea, a fowl, a fish—is capable of conveying a larger truth. The same is true of the non-animal world: ‘empty vessels make much noise’.
The role of words as referents is only a minor aspect of their existence. But as they rise from mere physical status, they begin to speak and tell a worthwhile story. But the tethering of a word to a physical fact does not take away anything from its power, beauty, and independence. It lends to the words a certain discipline. It also makes these words fit for poetry. Poets use one level of experience to suggest another. They use figures of speech—figures of comparison and contrast, analogy, alliteration, metaphor, allegory, personification, parallels, and allusions. They substitute the container for the contained, the sign for the signified, the cause for the effect and vice versa. They substitute one name for another, one part for the whole, etc. This is not just a poetic license or linguistic trick. These are effective methods of expressing ideas.
Misuse of these linguistic qualities can lead to confusion. Literary writing can be clever, deceptive, and insincere. Ram Swarup specifically picks up the social sciences, which he says are even worse than literature in this respect! Jargon and pretentious terms conceal profound ignorance. However, language is an important part of man’s higher life too. If we approach a language with humility and a loving spirit, it can accelerate our understanding and unveil new dimensions of our mind and spirit. They fulfill this function by expressing the truths of reality.
The life of the Spirit penetrates the physical world. Words do not merely provide a system of signs for outside things. They express the hidden life of the mind in all its wide-ranging ramifications. And the mind does not live in a world of things, facts, and utility; it lives in a world of meaning and significance. Words importantly express the larger life of the mind and a human’s psychic and spiritual life. Words and language encompass motivations, hopes, concepts of right and wrong, life and death, love and worship, the quest for the beyond, the eternal, the infinite, and the vision of a perfected life. Language is born out of the fullness of man’s heart, and, therefore, it must express that fullness. In their characteristics of being alive, protean, and multifaced, words image the unity of mind and thought. Therefore, words do not merely indicate things; they also possess a meaning and a place in man’s thought. That is why animal names and inert objects convey morals and wisdom beyond themselves.
One unity of words is that of basic sounds, as revealed by their alphabetical arrangement. Etymologies reveal another unity where one seed-syllable could give rise to a hundred words. Another type of unity is the unity between synonyms. A language has generally more than one word, derived from different roots and phonetically different, to convey different aspects of the same experience. These concepts yield their own larger psychological meanings, which facilitate contact between different words and concepts within a language.
Is there some other way of grouping them according to their meanings, giving us a sense of unity? Roget’s Thesaurus does this for the English language, but the principle should apply to all languages. Words are not self-sufficient entities, monads, or absolutes that never meet except in confusion, as logical positivists say. Words are free wanderers, yet their freedom is lawful and guided by an inner wisdom, which provides a coherent language.
Similar to sounds, we can break down the thought structure into more fundamental elements. The Thesaurus categorizes all thoughts into six categories, further dividing these categories into twenty-four classes, each of which has a thousand sub-classes. The Thesaurus distributes most concepts based on their meanings. A word has several meanings that belong to multiple levels. Thus, a word can appear multiple times under various categories, often associated with words of different origin but with similar meanings.
For example, the first meaning of ‘elevation’ belongs to the category of space. In this context, the word ‘elevation’ also conveys concepts of linear dimension and motion. In both contexts, the word ‘elevation’ shares its meaning with numerous other words, such as ‘height’, ‘altitude’, ‘ceiling’, ’eminence’, ‘pitch’, ‘loftiness’, or ‘raising’, ‘erection’, ‘lifting’, ‘upheaval’, among others. The word also appears under the category of sentient and moral power, in association with a dozen moral qualities that go along with an “elevated” mind”—generousness, altruism, benevolence, and so on. The word also falls under the category of intellect when used in phrases such as ‘elevated style.’ Words such as bold, glowing, spiritual, pointed, and so on embody the sense of an ‘elevated style’. Therefore, the word ‘elevation’ will be akin to a thousand words having an underlying unity of thought, which itself is an expression of a deeper psychic and spiritual unity.
In Part 3, we shall see how Sri Ram Swarup deals with the higher meanings of the word at the intellectual and spiritual level, rising from the physical and the worldly.
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