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Yash Ruparelia / Netflix
Sima Taparia describes herself as the best matchmaker in Mumbai
A new Netflix show, Indian Matchmaking, has created quite a stir in India, but many do not seem to agree whether it is regressive and shameful or honest and realistic, writes Geeta Pandey of the BBC in Delhi.
The eight-part docusery introduces elite Indian matchmaker Sima Taparia as she tries to find suitable partners for her wealthy clients in India and the United States.
“The matches are made in heaven and God has given me the job to be successful on Earth,” says Ms. Taparia, who claims to be “Mumbai’s leading matchmaker.”
In the series, he has seen jet sets around Delhi, Mumbai, and various American cities, meeting potential brides and grooms to discover what they are looking for in a life partner.
Since its launch almost two weeks ago, Indian Matchmaking has reached the top of the Netflix charts in India.
It has also become a massive social phenomenon. Hundreds of memes and jokes have been shared on social media: some say they love it, some say they hate it, others say they are “looking at it with hatred”, but it seems that almost everyone is seeing it.
The direct misogyny, casteism, and coulourism on display have caused much outrage, but have also inspired many introspection.
Mrs. Taparia, in her 50s and like a great “aunt” to her clients, leads us through living rooms that resemble elegant hotel lobbies and custom cabinets with dozens of shoes and hundreds of clothing items. wear.
“I talk to the girl or the boy and assess their nature,” she says, using girls and boys to describe single men and women as most Indians. “I visit their homes to see their lifestyle, I ask for their criteria and preferences.”
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Netflix
Ms. Taparia tries to find suitable partners for her wealthy clients in India and the United States.
However, that’s mostly with her Indian-American clients, where 30-year-old men and women have tried Tinder, Bumble, and other dating apps and want to give them a traditional pairing opportunity to see if it helps them find love.
Conversations at home in most cases occur with parents because, as Ms Taparia says, “In India, marriages are between two families, and families have their reputations and millions of dollars at stake for parents guide your children. “
As we go through the episodes, it’s obvious that it’s much more than just orientation.
It is the fathers, mostly mothers of young men, who are in charge, insisting on a “tall and fair bride” from a “good family” and their own caste.
Ms. Taparia then flips through her database to extract a “biodata” that would fit well.
Arranged marriages are common in India, and although cases of couples marrying for love are growing, especially in urban areas, 90% of all marriages in the country are still arranged.
Traditionally, pairing has been the job of family priests, relatives, and aunts in the neighborhood. Parents also trace marriage columns in the newspapers to find a suitable match for their children.
Over the years, thousands of professional matchmakers and hundreds of marriage websites have joined the hunt.
But what has surprised many here is that wealthy, successful, and independent American Indians are also willing to try “methods of the past” and rely on the wisdom of someone like “Sima aunty” to find them a mate. Many of them also come with long shopping lists that include caste and religious preferences.
“As an educated, liberal, middle-class Indian woman who does not see marriage as an essential part of life, I saw Indian Matchmaking as a stranger to a strange world,” the journalist and film critic told the BBC. Anna MM Vetticad.
Arranged marriages, he says, are “a practical Indian version of the dating game in the West, and in that sense, this program may be educational in that it does not patronize the suggestion that one is a more modern practice than the other.”
Ms Vetticad describes the Indian pairing as “occasionally insightful” and says that “parts of it are fun because Ms Taparia’s clients are such characters and she herself is unaware of her own regressive mindset.”
But the absence of warnings, she says, makes it “troublesome.”
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Netflix
Ms. Taparia’s clients also include wealthy, successful, and independent American Indians.
On the show, Taparia is seen describing marriage as a family obligation, insisting that “parents know best and must guide their children.” She consults astrologers and even a face reader on whether a party would be auspicious or not, and calls her clients, mostly independent women, “stubborn”, telling them to “get engaged” or “be flexible” or ” adjust “if you want Find a partner.
She also regularly comments on her appearance, including an instance in which she describes a woman as “non-photogenic.”
No wonder, then, that critics have called her on social media to promote sexism, and memes and jokes have been shared about “Sima aunty” and her “picky” customers.
Some have also criticized the show for overlooking how the arranged marriage process has permanently marked many women.
A woman described on Twitter how she felt she was parading through chattel before potential boyfriends and the program brought back painful memories.
“The whole process of seeing the bride is very degrading for a woman because they are exhibiting her, they are evaluating her,” Kiran Lamba Jha, an assistant professor of sociology at CSJM University in Kanpur, told the BBC.
“And it is really traumatic for her when she is rejected, sometimes for trivial reasons like skin color or height,” added Professor Lamba Jha.
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Netflix
In India, it is the parents who take over, insisting on a “tall and fair bride” from a “good family” and their own caste
In the program, an Indian mother tells Taparia that she has been receiving many proposals for her son, but that she rejected them because the girl “was not well educated” or because of her “height”.
And a wealthy man looking for girlfriends reveals that he has rejected 150 women.
The show does not question these biases, but, as some point out, what it does is hold a mirror, a haunting reminder of patriarchy and misogyny, casteism and colorism.
And, as writer Devaiah Bopanna points out in an Instagram post, that’s where its true merit lies.
“Is the show problematic? Reality is problematic. And this is a reality show,” he writes.
“The reality is not 1.3 billion awakened people concerned about clean energy and freedom of expression. In fact, I would have been offended for Sima Aunty to wake up and talk about choice, body positivity, and clean energy during pairing. Because that is not true and it is unreal. “
