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By Sonia Moghe

Photo by Camilo Morales

The Marriage Web, Part I of III (read part II)

At a Union Square coffee house, Shanto, a good-looking, friendly 29-year-old, American-born and raised Bengali has a confession to make: He is looking for his future wife on a South Asian matrimonial website.

The site, Shaadi.com, is the eHarmony of South Asian culture, with nearly 15 million profiles. The only difference is that Shaadi.com is meant for marriage, not dating. The site, exclusively for South Asians, is a no-nonsense way of finding your spouse. Users can get even more specific, searching other sites that target specific groups within India, like SikhMatrimony.com or Bengalimatrimony.com.

Shaadi.com claims to have made over eight million matches since its inception in 1997. With a three-month membership priced at $67, it’s a business that isn’t dying down despite a worldwide economic crisis. But there is a growing shift in who is doing the searching and what they’re searching for.

Shanto, who—like others—has requested to be identified only by his first name to avoid compromising his privacy, goes out to bars (although, less and less these days), drinks alcohol (mojitos tonight) and has had relationships (“two-and-a-half” so far). He’s an MBA student at NYU, so he’s a big fan of theories, trends and, of course, education. Though he has posted his profile on Shaadi.com, he is surprised when he finds attractive women there.

“I don’t see how, if you’re very attractive and you’re socially competent, that you couldn’t find a guy on your own,” he says. “If someone is, like, Bachelor’s in Communication from some random state school in Alaska and she’s 22 and she’s looking for a husband, there are so many red flags.”

He’s wary of getting involved with a woman who isn’t pursuing a career at this point in her life because he wants to make sure she’s not a “gold-digger.”

“If I see a girl that’s amazingly attractive, the first thing I look at is what is she doing,” Shanto says. “It makes me wonder really what’s going on with her life. If she’s really a great catch, a lot of guys would be after her.”

Shanto believes there’s a good chance that he could become one of those guys who makes a lot of money, so he is especially circumspect when dealing with a girl whose profile seems “too good to be true.”

“You have girls that are young that are just looking to get married. Their parents want them to get married as quickly as possible,” he says. “I think there are a lot [of women] who want to be a housewife. They’re looking for guys who have the potential to make a lot of money.”

Like many people on the site, Shanto has set filters on his profile. While some people’s filters eliminate anyone who is older, a different religion or in another country, Shanto’s first filter of sorts is his self-description.

“I'm dirt poor, morbidly obese, unshaven, rude and drink milk straight from the container,” he writes about himself. “I recycle bottle caps for a living and throw the change I get into clogged fountains and wish for a better future. Needless to say, I know very little about diminishing returns.”


Photo by Camilo Morales

It would take either knowledge of Western culture or an American upbringing to understand that Shanto’s profile is tongue-in-cheek. He’s banking on it to filter out the people from India who, perhaps, simply want to marry their daughters off to an American.

There’s more to filling out a Shaadi.com profile than just having a few sentences about yourself. It can take nearly an hour to fill out all of the details in your profile, starting with who posted the profile (self, parents, sibling, friend or other). Shaadi.com estimates that about 25 percent of its customers have parents or siblings posting profiles for them, while nearly 60 percent of people post their own profiles. The rest of the profiles are submitted by friends.

Another question, prominently placed toward the beginning of the profile, stipulates blood type.

“You should not marry in the same blood group,” says Subramania Sitaraman, echoing one South Asian attitude. “The children may not be well-formed.”

While there is no scientific evidence of this, Sitaraman says there are still people who believe that everyone comes from one of seven “family lines” and should not marry someone from the same line.

Sitaraman is an Indian native in the U.S. working as a marketing professor in Ohio. He’s also the contact person for a matrimonial ad placed in India Abroad, a weekly Indian newspaper for Indians in the Western Hemisphere. His friend is looking for a husband for their daughter, a 26-year-old living in New Delhi. The ad reads:

“We are looking for a boy who is brilliant, ambitious, highly talented, tall, vegetarian, well-educated, preferably from an Ivy League or other leading universities of U.S.A. and from a respected family settled in India. The boy should have plans to settle down in India soon, although for a few years our daughter can join the boy in the U.S. Our daughter is very caring and a perfect blend of East and West.”

As the designated U.S. contact person, it’s Sitaraman’s job to sort through the various responses the family’s daughter receives and narrow down the 50 to 100 applicants to about 10. But he said he’s probably just the “second line of defense” and is sure the girl’s family is also looking for a potential mate for their daughter in other venues.

Even with the development of matrimonial sites like Shaadi.com, newspaper matrimonial ads—the older way of finding mates—are still popular, Sitaraman says. The Times of India, the Hindustan Times and other India-based newspapers carry four to five pages of matrimonial ads on Sundays. Still, newspaper matrimonial ads are more limited and more expensive than online matrimonial websites. India Abroad charges $30 for a 10-word ad, with each additional word costing $3. The ads run in cities where the paper has its local editions: New York, Chicago, Dallas, Toronto and Los Angeles.

Sitaraman himself had an arranged marriage back in 1965, when many marriage matches were made by word-of-mouth through families and family friends.

“My relations told me, ‘There is a girl,’” he says. “I told my parents one thing: I’ll go and see the girl only once. If you’re happy and satisfied then I’ll go. I’ll never do the crime of going and seeing a girl and then rejecting her.”

Sitaraman thinks the notion that an arranged marriage means forcing children to marry is misguided. Instead, an arranged marriage of his day is comparable to using a matrimonial website today; parents and children come together to make a decision about unifying two families together.

“In my day I could not think of marrying without my parents’ consent,” Sitaraman says. “Because it’s not done. They would feel bad or hurt.”

He said in America, more and more young South Asians are looking for mates on their own instead of having parents find them and ask their parents for approval later.

“[The] Indian system and American system is totally different,” he says. “In [the] American system, they’re independent. The parents do not say anything. In the heart of hearts, they still carry the Indian baggage.”

But some South Asians, like Shanto, don’t call their desire for parental approval of their future mates “baggage” but “family values.” Perhaps the way his parents’ generation met their spouses may be different from the way his generation does, but Shanto believes one thing is still the same: when two people are married, their families have to get along.

One of Shanto’s good friends from California is Sejal, 27, who has her Master’s in nursing and is Jain. People who practice Jainism are strict vegetarians, and this was something Sejal hoped to find in her future husband. She met her husband Neal on Shaadi.com.

“I wanted someone who was Indian, someone who was Jain, someone who doesn’t eat meat, someone who is sweet and cares about other people,” she says.

Sejal did, however, need a little bit of a push from her parents to find a husband. She first began attending conferences for Jain youth that happen every summer, trying to find a husband while she was in her early 20s. The conferences last a few days and offer activities for Jain Americans from the ages of 15 to 30. For the children who are too young to be thinking about getting married, there are panels on religion and culture. For those who are looking for a spouse, there are icebreaker events: mixers for people to come together, talk and exchange numbers. But Sejal didn’t have any luck at the conferences.

“I wasn’t ready,” she says. “I was more networking and finding friends instead. My parents were like, ‘This isn’t working.’”

So, at the insistence of her dad, Sejal’s sister created a profile for Sejal on Shaadi.com when she turned 25. Neal was across the country in Maryland finishing up medical school and expressed interest in her. They emailed each other for two or three weeks. One month later, he came to visit her in California. A few months after the visit, Sejal’s parents met Neal, and six months after their first meeting they were engaged. They remained engaged for a longer time than their “dating” period.

Sejal, like Shanto, justifies a short dating period by comparing divorce rates in America to the rates in India.

Photo by Rodrigo Torres

“Sometimes if you date someone for years, you don’t know what it’s like to be married,” she says.

American divorce rates are among the highest in the world. Nearly 45 to 50 percent of marriages end in divorce. Divorce rates in India were once among the lowest in the world for decades – in the 1990s, just about 1 percent of marriages ended in divorce. The rates have skyrocketed to 7 percent, according to a 2001 census study by two demographers, Ajay Kumar Singh and R.K. Sinha. Some attribute the rise in divorce rates to more choice and independence for women, creating a change in attitude towards divorce. Mail Today, a New Delhi tabloid, topped its editorial page with a piece entitled "We Should Celebrate Rising Divorce Rates," while the Times of India ran an article in May 2008 about a 70-year-old woman asking for a divorce from her husband after 53 years of marriage.

Even though Sejal has been married to Neal for a year, she admits that many people still don’t know how they met.

“Half of my family thinks that we met through family friends and the other half knows that we met online,” she says. “Some of them still have that mentality, ‘Oh it’s online; you couldn’t find anyone on your own.’”

Read part II...




Sonia Moghe is getting her Master's at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. She lives in New York City and works as a television reporter.

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