<em>Indian Matchmaking</em> Exposes the Easy Acceptance of Caste

In the second episode, Taparia herself details how she got married at age 19 to a man chosen by her father. The camera follows her husband as he brings her a cup of tea while she stressfully combs through her clients’ “marriage bio-data,” as the résumé-style list of qualifications is called. The sequence all but confirms their loving relationship. Not only does nearly every marriage-hopeful admit that they changed their mind about arranged unions, but the series also ends with a glowing tribute to the tradition. A wholesome montage shows husband-and-wife pairs who joke around and tease each other before sharing how long they’ve been together (from less than 24 hours to 50 years).

Of course, many marriages arranged by the parents and families of the couple turn out to be perfectly sweet and happy. But many also come with a loss of agency, especially for the woman, who must be “flexible” and “adjust” to the norms of her husband’s family, as the show points out. The bride is almost always expected to bring with her a sizable dowry. Even darker, wives who experience controlling behavior, domestic abuse, or marital rape (which is not a crime in India) are socially conditioned to suffer silently.

The success of Indian Americans as so-called model minorities in the U.S. has been attributed to lasting marriages and strong family ties. But the happily-ever-after ideal of arranged marriage is beginning to show cracks. More young Indians and Indian Americans are rejecting the practice or walking out of partnerships that don’t work. Even Indian Matchmaking features at least three story lines about divorce, although the show is clear that leaving a marriage still carries stigma. In the episode dispassionately titled “Marriages Are Breaking Like Biscuits,” the series explores the stories of divorced individuals from both arranged and non-arranged marriages. The show illustrates how difficult it is for these clients to find a match in the caste-driven market, at times implying that being able to easily end a marriage may be a bad thing.

Despite Indian Matchmaking largely ignoring caste, the show, to its credit, doesn’t entirely gloss over the less-than-desirable aspects of arranged marriage. Some episodes highlight families or clients with unconventional pasts, such as the fan-favorite high-school counselor Vyasar. In one episode, Rupam—a 36-year-old single mom who divorced her cheating partner—successfully finds a match not with Taparia’s help, but on good ol’ Bumble. Other installments examine the pressure that unmarried individuals can face from their married friends or siblings.

In one scene, Akshay, a 25-year-old who went to college in Boston and lives with his rich, Mumbai-based family, is accosted by his mother; she asks him to take a photo of a blood-pressure machine displaying her high reading, which she claims is a result of him not finding a partner. She then gives him three “options” of women to choose from, and declares that if he can’t make up his mind, she and his father will make the choice for him. For anyone, including myself, who doesn’t meet the neat requisites for arranged marriage and has had to fend off well-intentioned yet emotionally abusive family members, that sequence has enough material to generate weeks of trauma.