My First Onam Sandhya: When a Delhi Girl Found Kerala on a Banana Leaf

My first Onam Sandhya. Even typing this makes me smile and blush a little. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to write about it, but then I thought, why not? Some experiences are too special to just keep inside your head.

This past year has been heavy. I cried more than I ever thought possible. I kept thinking some chapters of my life had closed for good. I told myself this was the permanent ending. But then life has this funny way of proving you wrong. You know how our minds work — overthinking, doubting, going in circles. And right when I thought I had wrapped myself in grief for good, someone quietly held out from my Instagram hidden requests and said, “come, I have something to show you.”

That someone was my beau. Let’s keep the past aside and come to the present. He had been secretly planning for a month to take me to my first Onam Sandhya. His excitement was childlike, and seeing that in him already made me curious. Food has always been part of my life, but South Indian food for me was limited to idli, dosa, sambhar, and maybe a coconut chutney on the side. That was it. Beyond that, I never cared much. Or so I thought.

The first time he took me to a South Indian restaurant, Dakshin, something shifted. I still remember how I sat there, staring at the spread like it was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. He ordered sambharam (spiced buttermilk) and I took a sip. It was cooling, tangy, soothing in a way I can’t explain. Then came the Malabar parota (laccha paratha but softer) and a white stew that tasted so gentle yet so full of flavour. I felt like my taste buds were waking up from a long, boring sleep. I laughed at myself because it felt almost like… well, like discovering a new kind of pleasure. That’s how strong it felt.

I even started experimenting . One day, I made myself an omelette with coconut oil. And my God, the aroma. That flavour has stayed with me like a song stuck in my head. It was such a small thing, but it was like Kerala had walked straight into my kitchen and whispered, “You’ve been missing me.”

And before you ask , who is this mallu guy? Ah, none of that is for me to share. He is just enough of a man to make me glow. The one who orders coffee every day without fail, who stocks up pineapple juice and diet coke everytime for me . The one who pushes me, guides me, and reminds me to go good and be good. God bless him, and God bless us together.

Then came Onam itself.

Walking into the hall for the Sandhya was like entering another world. The banana leaves were spread out neatly and volunteers walking around with pots, ladles, and smiles. It felt festive, warm, and strangely intimate all at once. Then the food started arriving. Scoop by scoop. Banana chips, banana halwa, jaggery-coated banana chips, different curries in shades of white, rasam, sambhar, papadam, matta rice, pickles, vegetables cooked in ways I couldn’t even name. Every dish placed carefully, as though it was a ritual.

And the flavours oh my God. Almost everything had some magic of coconut milk or oil, jaggery, or banana in it. Three simple ingredients but turned into something that could move your heart. I kept eating and thinking, where was all this hiding from me for thirty years? As someone who grew up with momos, bamboo shoots, mustard, and turmeric-heavy curries, this was like discovering a new universe. It was Kerala saying to me, “Come sit, where have you been?”

Somewhere between all that food, I also realised something about love. It’s not always in the grand gestures or the dramatic moments. Sometimes love is just someone planning for a month to take you to a meal that means everything to them. Sometimes love is seeing the joy on their face while you discover their world.

Girls, if you’re ever choosing a partner, trust me pick the one whose world looks nothing like yours. I’m from the North (delhi), North-East (tripura), and even a little West(gujrati), while he’s straight from the South. We speak completely different food languages, yet somehow, Kerala’s population has now gone up by +1 (thanks to me, haha!).

Of course, I’m still on my mission to turn him into at least a Nepali, or maybe a Tripuri, and if all else fails definitely a Gujarati. Let’s see who wins this cultural tug-of-war, but for now, I’m just enjoying being with him, texting him, face timing him, whatsapp video calling him, he and his presence in my life.

So what did I take away from my first Onam Sandhya?

That food can heal, it can surprise, it can hold hands with love and pull you into a future you never thought it existed. I know it sounds dramatic, but it really felt like that. And yes, maybe I was hypnotised, by him or maybe by the coconuts, maybe both.

Would I pack my bags tomorrow and settle in Kerala just for this food? Umm….it’s too early to answer.

Do you want to know more about “that” side of the food?

I will update you when we get married. Okay then. Fingers crossed, and may the banana leaf gods bless us.

Until then, I’m just a girl who was scrolling through Instagram when some baba said, “Give people chance to love you.” So I did. And look at me now glowing, smiling and blushing in a way I never expected. I don’t know how long this glow will last, but I’m savouring the present and quietly praying that this salt and pepper mallu guy will be not just my today, but also my forever.