A Foray into the World of Arranged Marriages

Sadly, my mom has, once again, started broaching the subject of marriage.

"So - have you found anyone yet?" she asked yesterday.
"I'm not looking. So what did you cook today?" I said.

I think Indian parents start thinking about their kids' weddings the day they (the kids) are born - nay, conceived. 'Bride and Prejudice', though overly exaggerated, with a terrible soundtrack, still has an element of truth in it. The presence of well-wishing relatives doesn't help. As soon as they see two single youngsters, apparently eligible, the benevolent, bored, dormant match-maker in them surfaces.

Almost the youngest in the family, I know it's not my turn yet, and won't be for another five years- but my mother likes taking revenge for the Hellish times I made her go through while I was a teenager.

"You know, you should talk to that boy I was telling you about - he's so nice and respectful. I can give you his contact information."

"If you do that, I swear I'll send him a rakhi."

Raksha Bandhan is a Hindu festival which uses a rakhi, a fancy thread that is a symbol of the bond between a brother and a sister. Traditionally, a sister ties the thread on her brother's wrist every year, indirectly asking for protection. . . And money.

In India, cousins are considered to be like brothers and sisters. Since I don't have any real brothers, I landed in my cousins' houses every year. They never stopped complaining about this festival, and how unfair it is to the male pocket. Tradition, however, is tradition.

The rakhi is also a seldom-talked-about secret weapon that the Indian woman weilds. By tying the rakhi around a male friend's wrist, the girl is implying that she thinks of the friend as a brother. The dreams of several people I know have thus been ruined by a piece of thread.

"A rakhi doesn't mean anything," my mom replied loftily. Oh yes it does. "Besides, that would be a very stupid thing to do."

"If you like him so much," I seethed, "YOU marry him."

My dad, who was listening in, started laughing. My mom, even though I couldn't see her (over 9000 miles of wireless connection), probably gave him one of her you-aren't-exactly-helping-here stares. She dropped the subject of that particular boy, hiding her panic well. She probably figured that a rakhi would be a suicidal move.

"What about the boys in your college?" she persisted.
"They're all Gujratis," I said, inventing wildly. Gujratis are people from the state of Gujrat - they're cool, and awesome, and have nothing wrong with them, but a senseless excuse is still an excuse. My sister, two years older than me, claims all the guys in her school are Biharis (from the state of Bihar). Which is almost the Indian-equivalent of saying that all guys are red-necks. I know that's her defending herself from all potential matches.

My mother sighed, and gave up. She'll be back in action soon.
I know she means well. But the whole situation is, quite frankly, rather laughable.