Hate-Watching

~ Indian MatchMaking, on Netflix ~

If the pandemic has already lowered your spirits, I recommend staying well away from ‘Indian MatchMaking’, streaming on Netflix. Its portrayal of the Indian and Indian-American community is thoroughly depressing.

The reality TV series follows a collection of young men and women, all of Indian origin, scattered across India and America, who are looking for marital happiness and use the services of one ‘Sima Taparia from Mumbai’ to help them find a mate. No different, really, from any dating service, except that the matchmaker supposedly has a better understanding of her clients and their families and culture.

The prejudices of the Indian community are displayed like one of those bridal jewellery exhibitions. Racism, classism and sexism are enthusiastically laid out without even a hint of embarrassment or shame — ‘cultural traditions’ are used as the excuse. It is generally the parents of the ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ who are the worst offenders in this respect, but it is clear that the younger generation has also internalized most of the same prejudices, and the show (unlike, for example, Made in Heaven) is uncritical.

Caste is mentioned once or twice, but most often is camouflaged by mentions of ‘community’ or ‘good family’. Colorism, sad to say, is rampant and explicit. Most of the people ask for a mate who is fair-skinned. Even the young woman in the final episode, lively, articulate and independent, who has been born and brought up in America, throws out ‘fair’ as one of her criteria for a mate. It is extremely disheartening to see how the most racist aspects of Indian culture have travelled unchanged across continents and generations.

Here’s Rupam, who had an unhappy marriage and is divorced with a child. Her father grills the matchmaker:

Sikh Father: This boy is divorced? Was his first wife Indian?

Sima: Let the first marriage go. No need to discuss that.

Sikh Father, undaunted: Indian or American?

Sima, reluctantly: American.

Sikh Father: Aha!

(dialogue approximated from memory)

That ‘Aha!’ carries a wealth of meaning. It’s definitely negative, but is it that the father disapproves of any Indian who has a relationship with an American? Or that it was obvious any marriage with an American would end in divorce? Whichever, it’s a sad but probably realistic statement on subcontinental prejudice. (Note also that Rupam and father both live in Denver and probably have American passports, but clearly consider themselves quite different from and superior to ‘Americans’).

The men in India (oops, I meant ‘boys’) are  passive, pathetic specimens, completely dominated by family and peer pressure. Neither of the two men (Akshay (25) and Pradhyuman (30)) appears to have any personality, although if there were a contest, Pradhyuman would come out one micrometer ahead because of his interest in cooking exotic meals and his rather creepy obsession with miniature costumes for religious statuettes.

Families are not just involved, they are often the driving force behind the whole process. Akshay’s mother is the force in their family, making such didactic pronouncements as:

 I had decided that my sons should get married between 23 and 25

First Akshay should get married so that we can then concentrate on his older brother having a baby. 

(again, dialogue from memory)

when she’s not ladling out emotional blackmail about the high BP and anxiety problems that Akshay’s unmarried status has caused her, or displaying the vast collection of jewellery and expensive saris that she has collected for her future daughter-in-law. (“This is only 20% of what I have collected”). Akshay admits at one point that he wants to marry someone “just like my mother”. Hmmmm.

The women, it is made clear, need to adjust and compromise if they have any hopes of marriage. Sima makes this point directly, and if they seem unwilling to accept her direction, sends them to a ‘life coach’ who underlines the same point.

One of the few pleasing episodes in the series comes with Ankita, an independent, attractive, vivacious woman whose business sense and capability apparently discourage the male Indian wimps. It is casually mentioned (to her and to the camera) that she is unattractive, and the ‘life coach’ tells her that if her future husband got a job in Timbuktu she should simply shut down her business and move. But it is lovely to see that her self-confidence takes only a temporary hit, and by the end of the episode, she decides she is happier alone. Go Ankita!

And one of the few nice men is Vyasar, a counsellor in a high school in Texas, a gentle giant. The scene where his teenage students speculate what kind of person would suit Vyasar is charming. Vyasar has had a difficult life, brought up by a single mother, and with a violent father that he hardly saw. Will any of Sima’s clients who all say they are ‘family-oriented’ be comfortable with his background? It seems unlikely, but by the end, he seems to be having some promising dates with a sweet veterinarian called Rashi.

Sad to say, the blank slate Akshay appears to have the only ‘successful’ match, with viewers seeing an engagement party as his last appearance. I put ‘successful’ in quotes because his poor bride appears to face a future of endless ‘adjustment’ with an almost ridiculously stereotypical Indian mother-in-law. We can only hope the bride survives with some semblance of dignity or self-worth.

Sima, the matchmaker, is extremely practical. She reflects, exactly, the communities she serves. One could argue that she is not responsible for societal biases and is simply implementing the wishes of her clients, but her calm acquiescence amplifies and perpetuates those prejudices. She is willing to argue when a woman talks about independence, but not when someone demands a fair-skinned mate.

I wish there had been some discussion of Sima’s business model.  Does she work on commission? If so, based on this series, she can’t be making very much, because most of the matches did not result in longterm relationships. Is it a flat-fee system, or do the charges depend on how many ‘proposals’ (dates) she produces for each client? Inquiring minds would love to know.

She also, entertainingly, uses a ‘face reader’ — a pompous man who looks at the client’s photos on Sima’s phone, immediately identifies their personalities and states whether they will be a good fit. Most clients, apparently, are ‘stubborn’ and ‘demanding’. Horoscope readers also appear with pronouncements like ‘Jupiter is in the 7th house’. None of these experts are any more successful than Sima in predicting a longterm relationship, for what that’s worth.

As a series, ‘Indian Matchmaking’ is poorly put together. Each episode involves more and more clients, and some stories simply trail off into nothingness. Did Nadia, the Indo-Guyanese-American wedding planner, really find love with Shekhar after we saw them walk off together in the Chicago rain ? What happened to Aparna, the ornery lawyer who disagreed with everyone about everything?

Episodes start with older couples, some married for 30 or 50 years, who talk about how their own marriages came about; some of those couples who barely saw each other before marriage, but seem happy and affectionate decades later, are a better advertisement for arranged marriages than anything in this show.

I felt the need for a brain cleanse after watching that series.