The other day, while writing a piece reminiscing my childhood, I wrote something like "... Moideen gave him the colour pencil ..." While revising the draft, a question popped up in my mind: should it not be "... Moideen gave the colour pencil to him ..."?
The expert told me that the problem arises because "to give" is a ditransitive verb: it takes two objects. OutFowlering the redoubtable Fowler, he added that there are five types of verbs: intransitive (Water flowed), monotransitive (The queen knighted him), ditransitive (She gave him the signal), tritransitive (I bet you ten rupees that she will not turn up) and ambitransitive (Usually, he ate — or ate his dinner — before 9 pm).
Though I was edified far beyond what John Collinson Nesfield or Percival Christopher Wren and his inseparable companion Martin had taught me, and I learnt about these nuances, he did not address my pressing problem.
So I asked him the question (Or, should it be "I asked the question to him"?) again. He said, "Moideen gave him the colour pencil" is as good as "Moideen gave the colour pencil to him" and the writer can chose what he considers better.
His reply reminded me of a law firm which the bank I had worked for used to consult. Let us call them Mirchandani and Iyengar. Their legal reports running into several pages — and costing several thousands of rupees — would contain references to Acts, Laws, customs and practices and cite case laws from courts in India and abroad and be replete with legal jargon (mens rea, ipso facto, mutatis mutandis, assentio mentium, and the like). They would discuss both sides of the issue at hand in great and intricate detail and conclude with "the bank may take an informed administrative decision in the matter."
My boss used to say after reading these reports that he suspected that there was an understanding between the two partners of the firm: Mirchandani would say one thing and Iyengar the opposite. The stenographer would faithfully take down both opinions. After typing out Mirchandani's view, she would open a new paragraph beginning "On the other hand," and record the opinion of Iyengar. Then she would add "the bank may take an informed administrative decision in the matter", the mandatory caveat.
"How I wish the steno had only one hand!" he would exclaim, suppressing a chuckle.
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