You don’t realise the value of what you have until you start missing it. This is not a phrase out of a Robin Sharma but a deep-seated emotion of a Chennaite living abroad and missing Chennai. Am sure, the phrase ‘missing chennai’ tickles many a thought amongst us, but what struck me now was a wedding invite from my friend in Bangkok addressed  for the function.

The card was simple and worded in Thai. Hence, the invitation to us was more verbal. The card, I presume must have read who weds who and the mention of venue, date and time with a small note inviting us for the lunch thereafter. I could guess this from the placeholders and nothing more. It did not have the multi fold, bi linguistic double shaded pinkish yellow mix of a typical Muhurtam card that am used to at Chennai. The long wordy lineage of the couple to be, interspersed with the blessings of the chosen Gods were equally missing. Even more conspicuous in its absence was the white outer envelope with a caricature of Meenakshi Sundareswarar. Many a time, this cover doubles up as an envelope for the Moi, thereby saving the cost of a gift envelope in our marriages!!

With all these missing intricacies but still upholding the respect it deserves, we held the card as we reached the wedding hall on the D Day. A traditional ‘Sawadee’ (Welcome in Thai) greeted us as we entered the hall. Missing were the Panir and Karkandu. Dressed in exquisite Thai silk were the ladies whose ears were missing the Vaira kal’ that makes many a Chennai aunty enough reason to start a conversation of interest (not common though) with her husband. The background music was Thai instrumental and I missed my Nadaswaram. The hall was silent except for the music. Loud in silence were the wonderful gossips that add music to the background in our weddings. Gossips that many a time revolve around the ‘Just back from States’ (a syndrome as I would put it) amongst the ladies or the topic on skyrocketing Chennai real estate amongst men, many of whom are sitting on ‘Housing board goldmines’. No sight of beautiful young girls in pavadai or the boys playing cricket outside. Missing too were the delightful bothering of hosts who keep asking us Tiffin sapitacha or Kapi kudichacha more than half a dozen times making our lips give way for a half hearted acceptance even as it yearns for a second helping.

The wedding ceremony was simple with the couple seeking the blessing of elders in the hall. The couple garlanded with Jasmine (incidentally it is called Malee in Thai too as in Tamil) poured water in the hands of the elders who stood in queue to bless them. The water poured from small silvery and golden colour cups had beautiful lotus flowers in them. No portly sastrigal and pyre guided them through this whole exercise. However monks had come to bless the couple and gifts were given away as ‘sambhavanai’’. Once done, they were seated in traditional chairs and the guests congratulated them with the gifts. My mind raced to absence of Andal Kalyanam and the Oonjal that follows. Sudha Raghunathan’s melodious voice was missing to render the playful ‘malai mathinal kodhai malai mathinal’’ to the couple.

There was no special announcement on the ‘pandthi’ as is done back home. The banquet hall had huge seafood spread but my good friend had arranged for a special vegetarian lunch for us. Whenever questioned on my preference of food, I respond with a quick riddle that I don’t eat anything that can walk, fly or swim leaving my Thai friends to crack on what is left edible. A spread of greens and boiled vegetables welcomed us on plate and I can vouch that I could have been on a health magazine cover for diet. Empty in stomach, my mind raced to the smell of the plantain leaf sprinkled with water. The absence of vadai dipped in curd pachadi, deep fried potatoes, cashew nut rich payasam and the intertwined jangri made my mouth water even as I was mouthful in corn. I firmly believe that Enid Blyton would have taken our South Indian cuisine to greater heights had she penned our wonderful dishes. ‘Mashed potatoes’ and ‘scrambled eggs’ do not offer the delightful creative treat to an author of her caliber as a Jangri, Thengozhal, boli  or monaharam  does.

The lunch came to a fruitful end as we were fed with a variety of fruits for deserts. My favourite jackfruit was there but missing in action was chakka pradhaman (Jackfruit Payasam). I should admit that we Indians, especially in south don’t leave anything to be eaten raw and work our way through myriad possibilities with fruit pulp, their skin and even the nuts inside them.

Wishing my friend and her husband the best for years to come, we left the hall with a small gift given by the Host. It was a handmade Thai gift that was given to all the invitees. But what I missed was my Thamboolam that has a fair share of laddu and muruku to munch while back at home. Chennai Marriages – Am missing you indeed.