This takes me back almost 27 years… to the time when Gayathri, my wife, and I had met, gotten engaged (a story for another post), and were deep in the wedding planning phase.

In our Indian culture, especially in the South, weddings are not just about the couple. Every relative, friend, and their dog feel entitled to an opinion—on the ceremonies, the logistics, and, most importantly, the food.

Now, while both of us are undeniably Indian, people often forget that two states can mean two entirely different worlds. Chetan Bhagat captured this well in Two States, a novel that later became a successful movie. In our case, beyond our different religious backgrounds, the hot topic of discussion was food.

To put things in perspective—Gayathri is a strict vegetarian, while I, on the other hand, am a non-vegetarian who could happily have meat or fish at every meal. During one conversation, my sister voiced her concern to Gayathri’s mother: How will Gayathri adjust to life with a chap who will even start the day with fish? By then, Gayathri and I had already decided—we wouldn’t expect each other to change our food habits. She wouldn’t have to cook non-veg for me, and I wouldn’t expect her to eat it.

For every wedding, the food is a major talking point, and ours was no exception. As we planned, we kept pushing the decision aside. Meanwhile, friends and well-meaning relatives threw in their unsolicited opinions—There has to be meat on the menu else we’ll boycott etc 

Looking back, I realize that I was so caught up in the chaos of planning that I hadn’t taken the time to “sit and listen” to the Lord. But He has His ways of guiding us. Two of my friends, Jose Antony and Gino, were praying together, as they often did, when they told us they had received a message from the Holy Spirit: Gayathri and Alphonse should serve a Kerala Sadya—a traditional vegetarian meal on a banana leaf.

We agreed immediately but had no idea how we would pull it off.

Fast forward to us walking into Hotel Srilekha on Mount Road (now Courtyard Marriott) to book our wedding reception. We met an elderly gentleman who was the manager. After finalizing the hall and a room, we got to the catering discussion. He began listing options—various rice dishes, elaborate platters—none of which felt quite right. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “Oh, we also serve Kerala Sadya on a banana leaf.”

Gayathri and I looked at each other and, in perfect unison, said, “Yes.”

Most weddings are followed by the usual post-feast commentary—people eating to their heart’s content only to later grumble that the food wasn’t great or that there weren’t enough options. But at our wedding, something unusual happened. People, one after another, came up to us, praising the food.

What touched me the most? Some of the very people who had made snide remarks about our food habits were now the ones most effusive in their appreciation.

Our reception was a dinner event, and Sadya is traditionally a lunch, yet even the most critical guests had nothing but good things to say.

Over 27 years, we’ve had our share of challenges, but one constant in our journey has been the unwavering hand of God—guiding, guarding, and providing.

And if I’m lucky, I’ll be around to write about our 50th-anniversary meal together.

⸻