past. The Nambūri was the custodian of all presents made to the Prince, and as such it was a part of his daily work to arrange the articles presented in their proper places. It was arranged that one day a dead fish, beautifully tied up and covered, should be placed among the presents laid before the Prince. The victim of the plot, little suspecting there was treachery in the air, removed all the presents as usual with his own hand. His enemies at court, who were but waiting for an opportunity of humbling him to the dust, thereupon caused the bundle to be examined before the Prince, when it became evident that it contained a dead fish. Now, for a Nambūri to handle a dead fish was, according to custom, sufficient to make him lose caste. On the strength of this argument, the Prince, who was himself a Brāhmin, was easily prevailed upon to put the Nambūri out of the pale of caste, and the court favourite was immediately excommunicated. There is another and a slightly different version of the story, according to which the Nambūri in question was the hereditary priest of the royal house, to whom fell the duty of removing and preserving the gifts. In course of time he grew so arrogant that the Prince himself wanted to get rid of him, but, the office of the priest being hereditary, he did not find an easy way of accomplishing his cherished object, and, after long deliberation with those at court in whom he could confide, came at last to the solution narrated above. It is this forcible ejection that the expression Belāl Thalli (afterwards changed into Pilapally) is said to import . . . . It appears that the unfortunate Nambūri had two wives, both of whom elected to share his fate. Accordingly, the family repaired to Paravūr, a village near Kallarkode, where their royal patron made them a gift of land. Although they quitted Ambalapuzha
