This phrase reminds me of an elderly woman (probably of my mum’s age) speaking to other women (mainly my mum).  Initially I first thought that this phrase is to be used only by senior citizens and no one else. The phrase which means “Greetings” or “Cheers” as we call it here in New Zealand is being used much more by me here, in Auckland, than I ever did in Bangalore.

To me “Namaskar ree” meant that some news is going to be broadcast about some friend in the neighbourhood within the next 8-10 mins. “Kelidra, Jagannath avr maga fail aagbitnanthe?”  Kamalamman magalge inna maduvene agilvanthe?” or “Subayyan sose manele iralvanthe?”  I was told it is bad manners to listen to elders speak and would generally be shooed away from the hall, but how could I not listen especially when she would give us such hot gossip news. I would apparently here my mum saying “Howda??” “Paapa alva” or “En madodu – eegin kaalad hudgeere haage” over the hot cup of coffee that she would brew for our rather frequent guest. 

And then there is this inevitable trip to Malleshwaram market that I had to make accompanying my servant lady, which had an abundance of “Namaskar ree – chennagidira?”  Since we generally used to speak a lot of English, suddenly adopting to speak Kannada would get a bit tricky. So I would end up asking, “ How much is this” to the tarkari amma who would not understand an iota of the words that would fling out of my mouth. My lady laxmamma would then intervene and say naan kelthini iramma.  (you all must be informed that I was just in school then and she was and still is 14 years elder to me). And then she would start asking  “Soppu eshtamma?” Within that span of time another elderly frail looking man who can do with a lot of water in his system picks up the soppu to inspect it. The tarkari amma would say namaskara swamee – togoli swamee, erd kattige mooru rupaee ashte  - ammavrge aidaru kattu togondu hogi.

In the very busy aisle there would be two moderately large women with their foreheads with real “Agla kumkuma” facing one another in busy conversation and almost (I can say completely, but well…) blocking the other peoples way. Generally their conversations start with “Namaskara – chennagidira?” By then the other fat lady would say “Oon   neevu? Maneavrellanu chennagidara?” By then a squiggly little girl would manage to wriggle out between these ladies. This would catch the other lady’s  (Fat lady no. 1) attention and she would start asking “nimm magala? Beld bittavlalla?” And she would start conversation with the tot saying “Lasht time nodidaga neenu ishte ishtidde – volle ili mari tara – eeg nodu hengagiddiya” By such time a completely senior man would say “Aya ya ya esht maathadthiramma – jaga bittu all doora hogi maathadramma yaaru beda anthare?” That would encourage both women to end their conversation and they would try winding up quickly and end up saying “Namaskara Barthini”

Here in Auckland we have the same “Santhe” as we call it in Kannada that is popularly known as “Flea markets”. Speaking in English here means the vendors would understand what is running in our minds. So we retorted to speak in Kannada and however loudly one would speak would not really matter in the din around. Atleast that’s how it was for the first six months after our arrival.  Last time we went to Otara market (Otara is the name of a place – like Yeshwanthpur), as we were speaking to each other “Mulangi ide – saar maadona” we found a tap on the back and a man our age (b/w 25-28) said “Namaskara – neevu kannad davra?”  I almost wanted to ask him which language had he heard but did not as I got busy giving him a melon grin and nodding my head in the affirmative.

After that I gave a bit more of thought and realized that “Namaskara” was one of the only mediums between us and the Kannadigas, not only in our land but also overseas.

In their own ways, the fat lady’s, the tarkari amma and the frequent visitor did their best to keep the lines of communication alive. They are the ones who ensured that if someone did anything wrong, it did not go un-noticed, and also people could reach out to each other for information or help. The thoroughly ignorant ones like me misinterpreted namaskara as a terminology used only by the old. After all, one does get old and probably, I too some day might get back to India and wear a 9 yard saree and have an “agla kumkuma” on my forehead and respectfully respond to a “Namaskara chennagidira?” call out.

Namaskara

                             - By Rashmi Shenoy