Posted on: September 28, 2026

From One Question to 71 Marriages: A Young Sub Collector, a Village and an Extraordinary Community Movement

NV Paulose, Chairman, Global TV +91 98441 82044

There are moments in a civil servant’s career that remain etched in memory not because they appear in official files or government reports, but because they touch the lives of ordinary people in extraordinary ways. For Dr. Jiji Thomson, IAS, one such unforgettable experience came very early in his career, when he was serving as Sub Collector at Alappuzha. He had joined the IAS in the 1980 batch and, after completing his training, began his career as a Sub Collector in 1983. When he took charge at Alappuzha, he knew that his tenure would be relatively short. Rather than allowing that limitation to restrict what he could accomplish, he decided that he wanted to do something different during the year he had.

“I told my colleagues that I had only one year to go. In that one year, I wanted to do something different,” he recalls. His idea was simple but quite unconventional for the time. Instead of spreading developmental programmes thinly across a large area, why not concentrate the administration’s attention on one village and try to address as many of its problems as possible? He identified Patanakkad in Cherthala and decided that every second Saturday, officers would undertake a padayatra through the village. They would walk from one part of the village to another, meet people at their homes, listen to their difficulties and try to resolve them as quickly as possible.

The approach was practical and direct. If villagers complained that electricity poles had been installed but there was no power, the matter would be followed up. If water pipes existed but drinking water did not reach the households, that too would be taken up. Revenue related issues and other local problems could be identified and addressed directly.

The question Dr. Thomson repeatedly asked the people he met was a very simple one. “Do you have any problem?” One day, that question led him to a small hut in an interior part of the village. An elderly woman answered the door. Dr. Thomson asked her whether she had any problem. She immediately said yes and called her daughter. A woman came out. Her name was Rahel.

Then the mother called another daughter, Annamma. She was followed by Chinnamma, and then two more daughters. Five daughters eventually stood before the young Sub Collector. This is my problem, she said. The elderly woman was a widow, and she had been unable to arrange marriages for her daughters. To her, this was the biggest problem in her life.

Dr. Thomson initially explained that he was a government officer and had come to address matters such as electricity, drinking water and other revenue issues. A daughter’s marriage, he told her, was not something he could ordinarily solve in his official capacity. But the mother was not interested in those other problems. This was her problem, and she had brought it before him with the hope that somehow he might help. For Dr. Thomson, the encounter became a personal challenge.

As he walked out of the house, he told the Panchayat President that he felt they should at least arrange the marriage of the eldest daughter. He decided to contribute his own salary. At the time, after statutory deductions, he received around ₹15,000 a month. But the Panchayat President smiled when he heard the proposal. With ₹15,000, he explained, it would be difficult to conduct a marriage. There had to be gold, clothes, household utensils, an umbrella, party for a minimum of 10 people from both sides and several other necessities.

Dr. Thomson could have stopped there. Instead, he asked himself a more important question: what if the community came together? He began approaching local organizations, charitable institutions and individuals. One offered to provide clothes. Another agreed to supply household utensils. Someone else offered the umbrella. Slowly, one contribution followed another.

Then the story appeared in the newspapers. What had actually been planned as the marriage of one girl was reported as a mass marriage. The news attracted immediate attention, and from the very next day, requests began pouring in. Families started approaching Dr. Thomson, saying, “Sir, we heard that you are organizing a mass marriage. Could you please include my daughter as well?”

What had begun as a personal effort to help one elderly widow and her eldest daughter was suddenly turning into something much larger. The Sub Collector found himself faced with a new challenge: how could I respond to all these requests? It was then that the Tahsildars suggested an idea. Since there were five taluks in the subdivision, why not select one deserving girl from each taluk and organize the marriages of five girls?

Dr. Thomson agreed, and the effort gathered momentum. Once again, the same community organizations and charitable groups came forward, offering clothes, household utensils, umbrellas and other necessities. Everyone seemed willing to contribute something.

But there was still one major hurdle: gold. Five brides meant five sovereigns, and not even a single sovereign had yet been secured. Then came an unexpected opportunity that would transform the entire story. Dr. Thomson’s Tahsildar told him that the owner of Bhima Jewellery was celebrating his 70th birthday. The Bhima name already carried considerable significance in Kerala’s jewellery trade. The business had been founded in Alappuzha by K. Lakshminaraya Bhat, popularly known as Bhima Bhat, who pioneered the concept of ready made jewellery in Kerala and built a reputation around purity and trust. Bhima’s own history records that Bhima Bhat was also a co founder of the All Kerala Gold and Silver Merchants Association. The family business had by then grown into an important name in Kerala’s jewellery industry. One of Bhima Bhat’s sons, Dr. B. Govindan, had joined the family business at the age of 18 and would later become Chairman of the Bhima Group.

According to Dr. Thomson’s recollection, the 70th birthday celebration was an occasion at which invited dignitaries were presented with a sovereign of gold as a return gift. Dr. Thomson had not originally been invited, but his Tahsildar managed to arrange an invitation for him. At the end of the function, a sovereign was presented to the Collector, another to the Superintendent of Police and one to the Sub Collector.

When Dr. Thomson opened his box and saw the single sovereign, something spontaneous happened. He turned to the elderly businessman and said, “Sir, this is not enough.” The businessman looked at him in surprise. Dr. Thomson then asked, “This is your 70th birthday. Why don’t you give 70 sovereigns?”

For what; he was surprised with the demand. The businessman naturally wanted to know what they would be used for. Dr. Thomson explained that he wanted to commemorate the man’s 70th birthday by organizing the marriages of 70 girls. He then made an even bigger suggestion. As the businessman was associated with the gold merchants of Kerala, why not appeal to gold merchants across the state and ask each one to contribute a sovereign? The response was immediate.

The idea caught the imagination of the jewellery community. Gold merchants came forward with contributions, and ultimately 71 sovereigns of gold were collected. The original plan for five marriages had now grown into something extraordinary: a mass marriage involving 71 couples.

On 27 May 1987, the historic ceremony was held at Patanakkad. The Governor of Kerala, the Chief Minister, Ministers and representatives of different religious communities participated. Nearly 10,000 people gathered for the occasion. Seventy one young women were married to 71 young men in a celebration made possible not by government expenditure, but by the generosity and participation of ordinary people, organizations and members of the community.

For Dr. Jiji Thomson, who was only about 27 years old at the time, the experience became one of the defining memories of his early career. What began as a simple decision to concentrate development efforts on one village had turned into a remarkable demonstration of what collective action could achieve. The role of the jewellery community, and particularly the contribution associated with Bhima, became a memorable part of the story. What began with one sovereign presented at a birthday celebration eventually became a collection of 71 sovereigns, enabling the original plan to expand far beyond anything the young Sub Collector could have imagined.

Looking back, Dr. Thomson sees a deeper lesson in the episode. A public servant does not always need a large project, a substantial budget or an elaborate programme to make a difference. Sometimes, the beginning is simply a question asked with sincerity: “Do you have any problem?”

One question led to one family. One family led to one marriage. One marriage became five. Five became 71. And one young officer’s initiative brought together an entire community. As we reflect, “A thought is like a dot. The moment another dot is put, the line is unlimited.”

The story also shaped his philosophy of life. He believes that one should do one’s work sincerely and truthfully, help others whenever possible and not become excessively anxious about the future. Opportunities often reveal themselves only after we take the first step.

After the mass marriage, some people came to him and said that, because he had arranged the marriages of so many girls, they were praying that he would be blessed with sons. Dr. Thomson’s response was that he had no such preference. Whatever God chose to give him, he would accept with both hands. In time, he was blessed with two daughters.

When Dr. Jiji Thomson was narrating this memorable experience to Global TV, we were reflecting on the power of storytelling. We should make it a practice to listen to stories that come from life itself rather than stories created merely for effect. His experience is a powerful example of why such stories matter.

The Patanakkad story began with a young Sub Collector walking through a village and asking an elderly mother a very ordinary question. “Do you have any problem?” Her answer changed not only the lives of her daughters, but ultimately the lives of 71 young couples. And perhaps that is the most enduring lesson of the story: great change does not always begin with a grand plan. Sometimes, it begins with the courage to stop, listen to one person and simply ask what can be done.