Before Indian Matchmaking, There Was A Suitable Girl

Before Sima Taparia became the infamous “Sima from Mumbai” in Indian Matchmaking, she was also a mother who succumbed to societal pressures of patriarchy that is vigorously still prevalent in India.

Smriti Mundhra who created Indian Matchmaking had co-directed a documentary called A Suitable Girl (2017) (currently on Netflix). This film followed three young women in India facing intense pressure to get married while trying to maintain their identities and pursue their dreams. The film looks at the complexity between family and societal dynamics while maintaining tradition in a modern world.

Amrita, a highly educated city girl with her MBA, originally from Delhi marries a man, Keshav. She was promised that she would be able to continue working before she wed Keshav. After the wedding, Amrita moves to her husband’s remote hometown in Noka — 400 miles away from Delhi. Amrita isn’t allowed to work. Instead, she hides her western clothes deep in her closet and switches them for saris. She caters to the needs of everyone in the home, manages the daily household chores and struggles to find her identity again, being known only as “Keshav’s wife”.

Dipti, a 30-year old teacher with a vibrant cheerful personality, actively searches for her husband. Her lack of marriage proposals is often attributed to her being overweight. She struggles with rejection multiple times where you witness her lively personality transform to defeat. Her lack of inner worth is evident, yet her parents stick by her side and the bond between the three of them is strong, supportive and loving.

Ritu, a 25-year old Mumbai native is highly intelligent, ambitious and focuses on her career at Ernst & Young. She is persistently hassled by her parents to find a husband to settle down with. Her mother, who is no other than Sima Taparia works as a “marriage consultant” and is also up against relatives, friends and society to get her daughter married.

As I watched this documentary, I couldn’t help but reflect on my own family. My dad was pressured into getting married by my grandparents. My mom was only 18 years old when she wed my father and had left behind her home, family and friends. I thought about my paternal grandmother who was married when she was only 16. Her mother-in-law had passed away, so my grandmother was responsible for managing the household chores and cooking for her father-in-law, husband and his three brothers. I thought about my aunts who had a similar fate. None of them had more than a high school level of education — if that. I thought about what their dreams would have been? What were their passions? What were they like as carefree little girls? What did they dream about becoming? What would have they wanted to do with their lives if marriage wasn’t a reality?

I then started to reflect on my own life. I am a first generation Canadian who came here when I was 9 years old. After the experience that my parents had and the advantage of living in North America — away from my entire family — I was never forced to get married. In fact, I got married a few months ago to my boyfriend who is of a different religion than me. I got married because I wanted to. I had found a partner whom I felt equal to, supported and uplifted by. This is a privilege that many of my female cousins in India do not have. Many of them have realities similar to that of my mom, grandmother, aunts and Amrita. Others are continuously persecuted by family members for making the decision to not get married and are harassed for being unmarriageable because they’re “getting old”.

There was a scene in A Suitable Girl, where we see Sima like we’ve never seen her before. Ritu’s wedding day is around the corner and you see the fourth wall breakdown as an emotional Sima explains that she hasn’t been able to stop crying all day. “She [Ritu] is going to leave me”. You hear Sima explain her position as she and her husband have been getting taunts from their family and friends as to why her daughter hasn’t been married off yet. “How can you arrange other people’s marriages and not your own daughters?” It’s a raw, heart wrenching moment. You cannot help but feel for Sima. You witness the love she has for her daughter and the pain she experiences letting her go. It was at this moment where Indian Matchmaking made sense and I realized that Sima is only a product of a larger patriarchal issue in South Asian communities.

As I watched Dipti and her parents say their goodbyes after she got married, I cried with them. I began thinking about my mother, her mother, my grandmother, my aunts, their sisters and their mothers. I pictured them leaving their towns, leaving everyone they have ever known. Leaving to go to a foreign person’s house. This person has been picked for them by their parents. They went off to serve their families, to take care of their house duties, to cook, clean and serve these unknown people. They left behind their dreams and aspirations. All of this for a man who, majority of the time, they didn’t have a say in. How terrifying! My heart breaks for all these women.

In Indian weddings, there is a tradition of a farewell ceremony called, Bidaai. It is where the family of the bride bid a tearful goodbye to the bride as she embarks on her journey to her marital home. When I got married, I didn’t have a bidaai, so there were no tears shed. However, weeks leading up to the wedding I was an emotional wreck, knowing I was stepping into a new phase in my life. I had the choice to adopt my husband’s last name. A right that the many women in South Asian communities don’t have. I struggled with the decision initially but chose to take it on to commemorate a new chapter. I knew I would have an identity of my own, regardless of my last name. I knew I’d always have my family with me and I’d always be a part of their lives. I was fortunate to have my parents live down the street from me, but even then, my parents shed their tears of losing me in private. I was no longer their responsibility.

So where do we go from here? Well, look no further than Aparna from Indian Matchmaking! In season one, Aparna is constantly told to adjust and compromise her standards. She’s a strong-willed, intelligent lawyer who is told she’s too picky and her list of preferences are too long. We can attribute this portrayal to reality TV, unfair editing and creating an interesting character for the sake of viewership, but the treatment of Aparna in season one can also be attributed to societal norms in South Asian communities. In season two, Aparna moves away from her family and friends in Houston to New York City. When asked why she moved she responded, “I moved to New York because I can move to New York”. After the move she becomes unsure of her decision and we even see her contemplate returning home to Houston. In the end she finds her way and stays in New York. She concludes that uncertainty is scary but decides to continue doing more of what she loves to do and is hopeful that in doing that she will find a partner. As I watched Aparna, I couldn’t help but think that she was a representation of me — an ambitious, self-sustainable South Asian woman, free to make choices and live life according to how I wanted to live it. She represented the forgotten dreams and aspirations of all South Asian women who aren’t given the opportunity to live the life they dreamed of. Many of us independent women wonder if it’s the right time to quit that job we hate, start that side project we’ve always wanted to start or move to that city we’ve dreamed of living in. We’re afraid of letting our voices be heard and apprehensive about taking risks. We purposely undermine our own passions because we’re too afraid of the uncertainty. And this uncertainty also frees us of all expectations but only if we allow it to. Let this be permission to all the women to live out your dreams and passions. Do it because your mothers, grandmothers, aunts and your female ancestors never got to. Be a suitable girl, for no one else but yourself.

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