Native Palace
I come from - or as they say in India - I hail from South Kanara. (Now that the British have left our shores, the Government of Karnataka has restored the pristine glory of our place names - the anglicised South Kanara has become Dakshina Kannada).
When we need to pick up a conversation with a stranger, we begin with the question: ” Which is your Native Palace?” (read: Native Palace as Native Place.) The answer to this single question is sufficient to initiate a conservation that will last at least an hour. Let me explain how this is possible by recounting what happened when I boarded a local train last week.
My co-passenger caught my eye and flashed his teeth (a.k.a. smile) hoping that I would speak first. I looked that other way and didn’t. He then tapped me on the shoulder and asked: Which is your Native Palace?”
“Karnataka”, I said. That’s the state in South India where the district of South Kanara is located.
Not satisfied with the reply, he asked: “Where in Karnataka?”
“South Kanara”, I said
“Where in South Kanara?”
“Mangalore.” I thought this would satisfy him. It didn’t.
“Mangalore proper?” he asked.
“No. Karkala.” It is a town about 50 kilometers to the east of Mangalore. “But”, I added quickly, ” I was brought up at Bangalore. My parents migrated to Bangalore when I was just six months old.”
He preferred not to hear the second part of my reply. “Oh! Is it? I’m Mr. Kamath from Mulki. I know a number of persons from Karkala. Do you know Sin Pai - Srinivas Pai - who is from the Santhe Oni [Market Lane] near Taj Mahal hotel?”
“I told you that I wasn’t at Karkala for long”, I said, trying hard to conceal my annoyance. “I ‘m not familiar with the locations and people there.”
“But you must have some relatives in Karkala?”
“No. All left Karkala for better pastures”.
“What did you say your name was?”
I realised he was commencing a new stream to continue the talk. But was helpless. I replied:
” M. V. Prabhu.”
“Ah! Is it so? How come your initials has a M when you’re from Karkala?”
Our names can be stripped like an URL - the first name is the Native Place, the second is the proper name, and the last is the surname.
The guy was trying to pin me assuming that I had earlier misled him to cut the conversation short. But I wasn’t. So, I had to explain:
“I don’t know why it is so. M in my name is for Muroor, a village, a few kilometres from Karkala on the Jodu Raste-Someshwar road. My grandfather, Charadappa Prabhu, set up shop at Muroor. I don’t know what initials he used. He had four sons and a daughter. My father is the youngest of the sons. Each of them used a different initial. My father’s eldest brother was adopted by a maternal relative - so he had K for Kukkundoor. The second married a charming girl from Guddeangadi and went to Madras in search of fortune - he adopted G for Guddeangadi. The third remained in Muroor and continued the family business but he and his children had K for Karkala as their initial name. Well, that leaves my father. He adopted M for Muroor. Don’t ask me why!”
By this time the train moved into Dadar, my destination, and I was thrown out (that is how you get out of trains in Mumbai). I couldn’t hear what Mr. Kamath of Mulki was saying behind my back.
I trust you agree with me that “Which is your Native Place?” is the best question to break the ice on a hot and humid day.
Why don’t you try it and let me know your experience?
Add comment August 1st, 2006