The Indian Husband Search

And there it goes again. That dreadful question: “So how did you meet your partner?”

There was a time when relationships were sacred, such questions reserved solely for the best friend or the therapist. Nowadays, they pop up everywhere with a persistence that beats a Jack-in-the-box.

Since moving to Indonesia, my romantic trajectory has been prodded open and analyzed by my hairdresser, domestic helper, random bartenders and, day after day, by Western-minded colleagues. Even Facebook posed the question but fortunately for me, the “Through a Relative” option nipped it in the bud.

I don’t resile from answering the question, but the same questions always follow when I reveal that my love story began not by running around trees as in most Bollywood films, but through an arranged marriage, which is still a reality for many South Asian women. Mine was not coerced through parental or social pressure but rather was an option that loomed when I turned 28 and found myself lonely and jaded and ready for something more.

The very definition of an arranged marriage is ambiguous, let alone its place in society as a boon or a bane. In my culture, we understand it as a version of speed dating except the brokers are your chachis and mamis and the goal is not a mere boyfriend but rather matrimonial harmony for you, your spouse and both your families.

So how does a well-educated, ambitious girl of today find herself in such a position?

After years of studying and working in the US, the only men I seemed to meet were either (a) not Indian or (b) commitment-phobes. The former would be a direct blow to my family because while romantic love conquers everything, winning over mummyji and daddyji is a whole different ball game. The latter group of men were just not where I was in life. I wanted babies, a home and for my parents to see me settled; I wanted the next chapter.

And so upon my next visit home, I revealed my innermost desires to my extended family and there began the search for the perfect husband.

One aunty suggested www.shaddi.com, a matrimonial site that seeks to match a partner with your biographical profile. After I had to clarify my eye and skin color on page 2, however, resignation set in.

Another aunty set up coffee with the son of a friend’s friend for the very next day. It was to take place in a coffee shop nearby chaperoned by our mothers. On paper, Mr. X sounded wonderful – a character straight out of a Bronte/Hornby hybrid novel.  

After a sleepless night of prepping physically and mentally, I was convinced I was meeting the love of my life. An hour later, my mother and I were stood up. Turns out I am manglik, which the Vedic horoscope chart defines as a troublesome spouse – temperamental, inflexible and every Hindu household’s worst nightmare. And they had not even met me yet.

That was lesson number 1 and something most non-Indians fail to grasp. Arranged marriages, like their romantic counterparts, are not predefined mergers but a search. They may operate at a faster pace and with criteria that are based more on culture than on romance, but rejection plays a similar role. In modern India, you have the right to say no for whatever reason you think fit and my first attempt threw one right in my direction.

My next try was a distant cousin’s business partner and we were meeting at a bar. Anyone who saw the logic in talking about marriage with a stranger over alcohol seemed brilliant to me, and brilliant he was. Smart, ambitious, with good hair too and he knew a great martini. After five hours of great conversation I went home to deliver my verdict.

I was Yes. My parents voted No. Mr. Y had type 1 diabetes, was already getting injections, and while doing relatively well financially, his outstanding loans were substantial. I did not see the validity in rejecting someone for his credit rating or medical condition. This was my life, not a business agreement, I argued. But here was lesson number 2, as explained by my mother.

Arranged marriages give you a platform to cut through the crap. If I chose the path to avoid more heartache, I might as well avoid financial difficulty and health problems along the way. While some things are unpredictable, love can sometimes be blind what is right in front of your eyes.

Looking back, I can now vouch for her logic because an arranged marriage is really about being smart more than anything else. It is about looking for a relationship that can sustain you through the future and I know many such marriages that outlast ones that had the Romeo and Juliet beginnings.

Third time lucky was not so lucky. Upon learning that I should be discerning, I went from Mr. Z to Mr. A and so on and so forth. Each one was too short, too fat, too conservative or too immature and the fault findings went on. I received many rejections for my part as well, some being fairly surprising.

I met the man I actually married through my mother. She had met him at a wedding overseas, passed on my personal email address and encouraged him to get in touch. We only met twice face to face before we got engaged. Did I know he was the one? Not really. All I knew was that he was upfront about a lot of things, he made me laugh and I felt comfortable.

Could he have been a wife beater? Maybe, but I had an army of relatives that had cross-checked his every move. Could the like never blossom to love? Perhaps, but something told me he would be responsible and caring regardless. Could I live without love? I already knew my take on the subject was adjustable.

But more importantly, could I leave him if I was miserable? For while divorce may still be taboo in our society, if you are unhappy the Indian parent will do everything they can to right the wrong, especially if it was theirs.

And as someone who has now been happily married for a few years, I stand by my choice. Because I now know that after the first child, after going through a parent’s death, after a miscarriage, love changes and people change – it’s the other things that hold strong.

Arranged marriages are a practical take on something as impractical as relationships. That is why while I may dread the question, I often feel the need to justify my choices.

+ Deepti Sharma

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