About: a light-hearted look at a failed to take-off arranged marriage adventure, in Tamil Nadu, India in the 1990s.

It’s been one of my favourite childhood lines, ‘Kaakkaa Thukkikittu Poochi’ (The Crow Lifted it Away). When something goes missing – inexplicably or explicably – and someone asks where it is gone, my childhood fantasy reply has always been, ‘Kaakkaa Thukkikittu Poochi’.

These days, when someone asks where my wife is, or someone, or something else for that manner, I jokingly say the same thing. Often it brings forth a bewildering look, an ear-to-ear smile, or a deep sigh, Oh?

Over the years there are many things that have gone missing – down the rabbit hole – allowing the crow to fly-in and do its lifting-off job.

It was the 1990s, in the early days of bride-hunting, in the world of Boy-See-Girl Arranged Marriages, I had just settled into my job in an Indian Government Public Sector Company at Neyveli, Tamilnadu. I had joined as a Graduate Engineer Trainee and powered myself to Executive Engineer level when the family decided I should get married. Of course, with me giving the electric green signal. I had in my possession a nice little new two-bedroom Flat – Company Quarters – they call it, in the Neyveli Township. And my batch of Engineer colleagues were quick to bring their brand-new wives for the living and filling-in the spaces, some had already progressed to having kids. It was my turn.

One day, I was summoned by my family to see a Girl, living in the nearby city of Salem. Her father worked in Dubai or Oman (I’m not sure) and she was an Arts Graduate ‘fully equipped’ to get married. She had one younger brother.

My Mom, Dad, maternal Uncle and Aunt – a whole troupe was ready for the seeing, and we all filed into the Girl’s House at the auspicious time. After the introductions, exchanges of pleasantries, and serving of coffee, I had my chance to talk to the Girl – privately – for a one-to-one unchaperoned chat. It was a pre-condition I had laid for such adventures.

I had built-up a simple dream figure of my future wife: must have long lustrous hair, look reasonably good, and talk fluent English (I reckoned some education comes with that), among other essentials. I was put in an English Boarding School from the age of three, initially staying as a paying guest in an Anglo-Indian family in the nearby hill station of Yercaud and then into boarding in the dormitory. My thinking was wholly in English. And I translated it to Tamil, my mother tongue, whenever I spoke in Tamil resulting in many calling me a Malayalee from the State of Kerala due to my ‘fish smelling’ accent. To top it up, I talked in hypersonic speed!

Well, the girl had long hair cascading to her hips, looked good – in my opinion- and spoke decent English – though not Shakespearean. I am unable to recall the conversation, but I felt awfully good about it and there wasn’t the slightest hesitation in saying a ‘yes’ to the Girl – assuming other matching aspects will be taken care off by the family (and I reckon she understood what I spoke).

When we decided to leave, I wanted to just go over and say, ‘I like the girl, let’s go ahead with finalising the match’. But my family pulled me aside and said let’s not hurry, we can tell them afterward, when all of us have discussed what we saw.

A few days later, my Dad says, the ‘Girl is not fair-enough – she is on the darker side’. I said that cannot be a reason – unacceptable – if there is any other worthwhile reason I can consider it. We were building a new house at that time in our ancestral Village, and Dad was insistent that we order dark-brown wash basins and WCs for the washrooms. I shot it down, saying, ‘nothing doing – we’ll go for the white coloured ones’. He then argues, you are alright with white ceramic basins, but not a ‘white’ bride? Those were the white colour obsessed days. Any my Dad lived up to it.

With no other reasonable objections coming from the family, beyond inaudible grunts and murmurs, I said let’s go ahead. Meanwhile, I made my own enquires through a cousin of mine, known to the Girl’s family, and was satisfied with what I had gathered-Sherlock Holmes would have been proud. And I was assured that the girl is not of the ‘dangerous kind’.

I had to go on a six-month Company work stay in Haridwar in the North of India and left it to the family to ‘finalise the relationship’ and make Wedding plans.

It turned out that, being unable to convince me against the alliance, the family made another trip to the Girl’s House to see her ‘fully’ once again. They listed more skin, eye, and ear faults, which I did not take with a pinch of salt. But seeing the unholy resistance and not knowing more about the Girl, and not yet in love with her, to make a firm decision, I gave up. My family said ‘No’ to the Girl’s family and we moved on.

With the acquired experience, my family was more cautious and I was successful in the next adventure bringing home my now wife (though, I had to cut down the length of the hair – being richly endowed in other departments).

Over the years, I have always wondered what happened to that Girl, who did she marry? Where does she live? How does she look like now? It’s just a foggy memory I have of her, and I am not sure I would recognise her should I run into her again. There is too much dust on the mirror- and I only remember a smiling oval face and long hair – a dusky beauty. The world is certainly round but still not round enough for us to meet again!

A classic, Kaakkaa Thukkikittu Poochi tale?