‘Adjust, Be Flexible, Compromise’: Is Sima Aunty’s A-B-C of a happy marriage really wrong?

These days, everybody has an opinion. Especially on Sima Taparia and her choosy, ambitious, sometimes narcissistic motley of clients. Little surprise there.

Netflix’s latest show ‘Indian Matchmaking’, which now ranks #1 in India, delves into the centuries-old practice of fixing marriages in India and raises uncomfortable questions about what it takes to succeed in a marriage without losing your individual identity.

You may want to know why I’m qualified to opine here. At 23, an age most would consider highly inappropriate, I was engaged to a match found by a community matchmaker. My 32-year-old sister, settled now in Canada, has been seeking a match through the very same process for the past decade. I’ve seen both sides of the story and can tell you – Sima aunty isn’t completely off the cuff.

Heaps of criticism have been levelled against the high-society matchmaker who hobnobs among elite families in the US and India and tries to fix up her clients by matching biodatas and horoscopes. Opening the floodgates of memes on social media, Sima has been heavily trolled for asking her clients to “be flexible, adjust and compromise” – advice that doesn't go down well with a generation fixated by their individual identities, successes and social structures – especially women.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a fierce champion of individualism and personal freedom for both women and men. But the one thing I’ve learned over the course of my 7-year marriage is that the very same piece of advice has held my husband and me – polar opposite individuals with a common vision –together in a journey pockmarked by emotional, social and financial challenges but immense love and respect. I started young in this journey, at a time when I was far more conducive to change that I could possibly be today; I reckon this is a big factor in an arranged marriage.

Also read: Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me no match...

As modern women, there’s little we hold dearer than our precious careers, especially since they are most often assiduously built by pushing societal boundaries and fixing our mast firmly in the pit of patriarchy and dogma. I still remember an uncle advising my father to not let me go to the UK to pursue my masters in journalism, warning that I could go “astray”. It was, and still is, uncommon for a Muslim woman to pursue a career in the media. I cannot imagine what battles my parents must have fought, both internally and externally, to allow me to go ahead with my ambition. Once that battle was won, came the next – marriage.

The arranged marriage ecosystem is laced with prejudices and double-standards, as the show holds up a mirror to. I’ve faced rejections for reasons that have bemused me, enraged me and saddened me too. “Too ambitious”, “Possibly too modern?”, “Would she be family oriented?”, “Women in media don’t make good wives” – I’ve endured a few slanders. Yet I greatly respect this institution of arranged marriage because it lays the foundation of a strong marriage by recognising values and virtues too many are quick to dismiss as traditional or rigid.

My husband was advised to approach me with an “open mind”, allowing him to see my career as a cherished achievement but also going beyond the surface to see me for who I really am. Likewise, by being able to compromise, I could see him for the self-made man he is, giving me strength to focus on his potential rather than his economic status. Our arranged setup afforded distance yet proximity, freedom with responsibility, helping us navigate this delicate journey with confidence.

This ability to focus on what one wants – and what one doesn’t – is especially important in today’s modern yet highly turbulent times where the din drowns the inner voice.

Sima’s clients amply exhibit their lack of recognition of what they really desire out of life and their partners, often oscillating between extremities in their criteria, many of which are not only superficial but also designed to merely lift the egoic image of who they think they really are. The rich guys want women who are pretty but traditional, modern but cultured, ambitious yet family-oriented. The successful women, waving their careers as flag bearers of their contemporary lifestyles and outlook to life, can’t seem to decide what they want either – because they want everything or nothing at all – and constantly shift goalposts. There’s black, white, and a lot of grey.

Also read: ‘Indian Matchmaking’ Review: The Netflix show needs a trigger warning

Sima, although deploying some very contentious methods such as face astrologers, priests and relationship advisors, enables some of these entitled young men and women to sift through their feelings and evaluate their desire for marriage, prompting a fiercely independent Ankita to walk away from the matchmaking process. The fact that she could suggest a woman seven years older for the affable Vyasar because their personalities matched is testament that arranged marriages needn’t be regressive. I think that’s empowering.

The show also throws light on some uncomfortable truths about gender equality, which make you cringe but also introspect. Like 25-year-old reticent Akshay who settles for a smart Chartered Accountant after relentless persuasion by his parents, only to ask her who would raise the kids if she chooses to work after marriage. On the other end is Delhi-based matchmaker Geeta, who crudely tries to drive home the message that while equality must be the premise of a good marriage, partners cannot strive for equality at all times in a marriage – a universal truth that’s not easily digestible to Ankita.

Above all, Indian Matchmaking takes a hard look at the role parents play in their children’s journey down the aisle. Quite rightly, it causes your nerves to grate when you see a patronising Preeti giving her son Akshay six months to bring a wife to “make him his meals”. But it is equally important to see hard-wired ideas driven into 34-year-old attorney Aparna by her single mother or the down-to-earth values imparted by Vyasar’s mother as she raised her son alone.

Netflix’s latest series may have seen a lot of labels – “cringe-worthy”, “horrid”, “mortifying”. I'd like to add one more – “thought-provoking”.