A young man who whistles at a woman is an “eve-teaser”. A female educator is a “teachress”. World leaders “airdash” to meetings which are not brought forward but “preponed”. These are some of the glorious oddities of Indian English revealed by Nigel Hankin in his book Hanklyn-Janklin: A Stranger's Rumble-tumble Guide to Some Words, Customs and Quiddities Indian and Indo-British, first published in 1992 and soon to appear in a 5th edition.

The title is a nod to Colonel Henry Yule's Hobson-Jobson (1886), the classic glossary of Indian words, and to the Hindi habit of using rhymes such as party-warty or chai-wai (tea). Some of Hankin's entries are not so much archaic as evocative of the peculiaries of Indian life. We read, for example, of an “ear cleaner”: “An urban itinerant professional gentleman identified by his small red turban into which are tucked his instruments: tweezers, probes and buds of cotton wool.”

Revealed too are illuminating, if sometimes debatable, etymologies. “Doolally”, for instance, Hankin says, derives from Deolali, the dock near Bombay whence soldiers were invalided home. Khaki comes from Khaak, Urdu for dust or ashes and came into use at the uprising of 1857. The origin of rumble-tumble, slang for scrambled eggs, is more obscure.

Hankin said that the book was “intended as background information for the stranger residing in India, to give meaning to facets of life which otherwise might seem perplexing. I would like to think that it may also be useful to those outside the country concerned with Indian affairs.” It has won praise from Indians as well as visitors.

Nigel Bathurst Hankin was brought up by his grandmother in Bexhill, Sussex, after the early death of his father, and her Victorian attitude formed his outlook on life. He first arrived in India en route to Burma with the Army in 1945. The war ended before he got beyond Bombay, but he decided to stay, falling in love with the climate and the bustle.

After Independence he joined the New Indian Army as a captain to stay in the country. Later he had an eclectic career, including running a mobile cinema. He worked for about 20 years for the British High Commission, where among his duties was showing diplomats and their wives the sights of Delhi.

After he retired, this became his source of income. He was known as a guide to “working Delhi, not tourists' Delhi”. One of the most interesting parts of the tour was the wholesale market. Through narrow, dingy alleys, the gangly, white-haired six-footer would make his way dodging labourers carrying gunny bags on their heads, cycle rickshaws, carts, stray dogs and cows and often accompanied by the stench from open urinals. The shopkeepers knew him well and would greet him with “Ram Ram Tau” (uncle).

Hanklyn-Janklin was the result of two decades of collecting unusual Indian-English words, beginning in the 1960s. “A doctor at the British High Commission in Delhi gave me a list of 20 Indian words he'd read in his newspaper and asked me what they meant,” he recalled. “I suddenly thought if he wants to know, others might too.”

Hankin never considered returning to Britain. “I returned for three months in 1982 to visit my brother but it was so dull I went home after a few weeks,” he said. “I missed the chaos.”

Despite this, however, Hankin never assimilated into the Indian way of life, remaining a detached observer. Even after more than 60 years in India his breakfast consisted of cornflakes, eggs and bacon; dinner always began with soup. This was brought to him by the same servant for 40 years.

Nigel Hankin, author of Hanklyn-Janklin, was born on March 14, 1920. He died on November 30, 2007, aged 87