Indian Matrimonial Columns

My brother did it. I realize I’ve said that before to get out of trouble. But this time it’s true. He did the unthinkable for most twenty-four year old men. He got engaged two days ago and the wedding’s been scheduled for next December. The boy’s decided to make the leap.

Now I like to think I know my brother well. As an infant, I had the pleasure of sucking on his big toe. I’m told my mother was in the shower and I was crying in my crib. My brother, a precocious three-year old at the time, decided I was hungry and needed to be fed. He climbed in, stuck his right foot in my face, and told me to get to work. I did. Experiences like that can forge strong bonds between siblings. We’ve grown to be close – so close in fact that he can read my mind. Three years ago I woke up one morning feeling nauseous. An encounter with a Polynesian girl the night before hadn’t gone exactly as planned. My brother happened to call then. “You won’t believe what happened last night” I said, my voice betraying the sinking feeling in my stomach. There was a brief pause. “You’re in a relationship now aren’t you” he replied. My brother and I are also very different people.

Strange things started happening after his plans were announced. My grandmother looked at me with her all-knowing eye and hinted that I was getting on in years too. “Another three or four years….26 or 27 is a good age”. Apparently wondrous changes are in store for my maturity level. My mother decided to let me know that she had started buying jewelry for my bride as well – whoever the unfortunate girl may be. Venues were being discussed with the thought that they might be picked again. Caterers were chosen with the belief that a dish left out for this wedding would be on the menu for the next. My creakier grand aunts and uncles let it be known that they would like to attend at least one other family gathering of this magnitude. Short of sending the invites out, everything felt like it had been decided. There seemed, at least to me, to be one small problem - there was the matter of finding a girl.

The whole thing got me thinking. There are, undoubtedly, a number of individuals who are looking to get married but haven’t found a respective other yet. Put yourself in that position. The options at that point seem limited. You could go through the all powerful family and friend network in India (my grandmother recently tried to introduce me to her friend’s granddaughter), you could sign up on websites like shaadi.com or match.com, or you could place an ad in your local newspaper. All of these have one thing in common – limited information. Granted you won’t know what it’s like to be married to someone until after you’ve taken your vows, but don’t you think choosing someone to marry is a rather momentous decision to make on a lark? Imagine finding yourself in a pickle after marrying a girl based on the sound of her laughter – and never hearing it again because she no longer felt the need to humor you. Tough.

My parents maintain that marriages where the two individuals have dated before tying the knot are not necessarily more likely to work out. The divorce rate for first marriages in the US, for example, is 41% compared to 1% in India. Clearly this is a victory for arranged marriage backers. That might be true, but what the data doesn’t reflect is happiness levels. Getting a divorce is taboo in India and marriages often work out because the woman sacrifices significantly more than the man. She might also choose to stay on in an unhappy relationship because of societal pressure or complications with supporting herself independently. This information isn’t picked up in a number that looks at just the outcome and not the quality of the relationship. The truth behind the statistic is quite complicated. But what do you do if you find yourself looking for a partner? What do you look for in a stranger to know if she’s the girl or boy you’re meant to be with? I decided to peruse through the ads in the classifieds section of the local daily to find out.

Every Sunday, The Telegraph runs a half page matrimonial section with the catch phrase “happily ever after” for those willing to take the risk. Between sixty and eighty stressed out parents place ads under “Grooms Wanted” or “Brides Wanted” columns. Interestingly enough, most of them sound like they shared a generic template. The girls are either fair, good looking, beautiful, very beautiful, or some combination of the above. Being attractive, it seems, is a prerequisite for placing an ad in the paper. The beholder though is blind or at least forgiving when it comes to men. She only demands that they be well educated and successful. The potential for a substantial income combined with degree-associated prestige seem to be the key selling points. Terrible oral hygiene? No problem, it’s great to be married to an encyclopedia. Wavy nose hair? Hey as long as he brings home the bacon. For a society that claims the West is superficial, we’re doing a pretty good job of being shallow ourselves.

But let’s get back to the ads – they’re broken out into four types and reinterpreted below:

Type 1 - The Academic: “IIM Calcutta, MBA, M.Sc. (Eco) MBA (ICFAI) fair, beautiful, MNC fluent German, French, very soft compassionate. Wanted only highly qualified boy (others excuse), family oriented, Bengali Brahmin preferred, 32-35 max. Contact: Bhatta…”
Reinterpretation: Our daughter has three degrees and speaks at least four languages. She has a resume that goes on for pages. We’d like her to get married to someone with three degrees (or more) as well. Also, the longer your resume, the better your chances. We’ll weigh it.

Type 2 - The Alliance: “Alliance invited for a Bengali, Kayastha, very beautiful, fair, slim, Doctor girl, 33/5’3”, Govt. employee from a reputed Doctor parents family of Assam. Contact: 038…”
Reinterpretation: We’re searching for someone to enter into a strictly professional baby making joint venture with our daughter. Frisky business? Not on your life. Cuddling and pillow talk? Only if it involves how to make doctors out of babies. What about having some fun together? That’s not what alliances are for. Grow up.

Type 3 – The Class Conscious: “EB, Kayastha, 29/5’1”, MA Eng. B.Ed., HS Teacher (SSC) in Bardhaman. Fair, good looking. Seeks Dr./ Engr./ Lecturer/ Teacher/ Govt. Employee groom within 31-33 Brahmin, Baidya, & EB, WB both welcome. Bandel, Chinsura, Chandannagar preferred. Box (T) M 105…”
Reinterpretation: Look, we really just need you to drop a blood sample off along with your address. If you’re remotely artsy or creative enough to think of an alternative way to make a living, then we don’t really want to talk to you. We’re looking for someone who does things we understand.

Type 4 – The International Khiladi (player): “Australia (Sydney) based good-looking Bengali WB Brahmin 27/5’ 3” IT with Masters. Seeks well-educated Bengali groom. 96744…”
Reinterpretation: I’ve had my share of fun and am ready to settle down. Fancy accents don’t interest me any more. Now I need someone to accompany me weekly to the Sunday afternoon lunch buffet at the nearest Indian restaurant.

This made me wonder what I would say if I was placing an ad in the Telegraph. “Couch potato in training seeks partner with pulse and patience. Warning, object in question often spends all morning reading comics on the throne.”

In the search for companions, people seem to be looking for data points that indicate good employees. An accomplished student is not necessarily a good friend or son; let alone husband. Degrees don’t imply intellectual curiosity - they reflect good test taking abilities and a financial sponsor. Similarly, a fair and intelligent girl might be an absolute nightmare to live with. She could be chronically bipolar or swipe credit cards for sport. A far better indicator of a good partner is whether or not that individual has managed to maintain other personal relationships. The presence of close friends at least reflects the ability to sustain relationships and perhaps even geniality. A sporty individual signals the ability to function in a group if the sport she plays is team oriented. Someone working in a field he loves will almost always have passion. An individual who volunteers and gives back to the community is likely to be considerate and empathetic.

To break away from a purely academic recruiting model, some HR departments use the “flight companion” benchmark to gauge a candidate’s fit. Basically, they ask themselves how they would react if they had to sit next to a particular candidate on a flight. Would they come away having made a new friend or would that be an experience they’d rather not repeat? If you’re working long hours on teams with other employees, smarts give way to humor and sociability after a point. And isn’t that what a marriage is after all? The process of formalizing the companion you want to set out on the journey of your life with? Someone who’ll be with you through the highs and lows – the clear skies and the turbulence. Shouldn’t you be looking for someone who can make you smile, laugh, question, think, and feel? Someone who respects you as an individual. Someone who listens sincerely and provides unequivocal support. Someone who cares. If so, how are looks, degrees, and social status any indicator of these qualities? Why are we looking at all the wrong data points?

If one was to go off only the information listed in the classifieds, here’s what a groom hunting session would look like. Pretty girl sits alone at a dimly lit bar looking forlorn because she’s not yet ready to settle down. In walks candidate A. Relatively well dressed in a half sleeve shirt and khakis, he displays the first signs of prosperity around his midriff. He staggers across to her, winks, and says “I can do long division problems in my head”. She smiles back weakly – she can too. Along comes candidate B puffing on a cancer stick. With his belly in full bloom, he waddles across to her with his flip-flops slapping against his feet. Flashing his pearly yellows at her he says “square roots of seven digit numbers… while I’m frying myself samosas.” There is clearly potential here. The girl’s eyes light up as she slides across to him. Through a cruel twist of fate, in walks candidate C. Unlike his competitors, he’s skinny, wears glasses with thick bifocal lenses, and has a dense patch of vegetation on his upper lip. Unassumingly, he walks over to the group and says “differential equations with my left hand – while I’m calculating the largest prime number with my right”. The girl is ecstatic. Wedding bells ring in the distance.