Why She's Marrying Your Engineer From NYC.
On a Lighter Note!
A slow weekend read: when families, bio-datas, and WhatsApp photos collide in the quest for the perfect engineer from NYC.
So, you’ve heard of the proverbial arranged marriages in Indian families?
Last week, we explored what happens when it doesn’t work out (Why She’s Not Marrying Your PhD From California).
After that fictional take on a typical household’s attempt to ‘marry off’ their daughter—a piece rejected by a women’s magazine in India (I hope it fares better here! 😉)—this time, it’s only fair to look at the other side: when everything aligns… or at least, seems to.
Fiction, of course. I hope you enjoy it!
The aunt of the groom rushed home. She had heard a good piece of news.
Her neighbor’s friend’s aunt’s sister’s daughter was an ‘eligible’ girl.
‘Eligible’ to be considered for marriage. From a good family.
Good family — which could mean anything — but here it meant similar wealth and background: education, honor, and respect in the community.
Perhaps a lawyer, doctor, or engineer’s family. Her grandfather had been a doctor.
What’s more, they were looking to ‘settle’ their daughter and were open to ‘rishtas’1 from within the community.
Same caste was the only strict requirement. Same language was preferred but negotiable. One cannot be too fussy, after all.
And of course, he must be well-situated — job-wise, income-wise, and with growth prospects.
Excited, the aunt listed: all check-boxes ticked.
The mother listened raptly. “What does she look like? Is she pretty?”
Her son had said she must be good-looking — a minimum requirement.
Because whether marriages are made in heaven or not, they’re certainly decided on earth. For life.
“Did you bring a photo?” the mother asked.
“No, they’re going to WhatsApp it to me.”
The family waited hopefully. Maybe this time the girl would meet their high standards.
Their son was in the States, after all.
New York — a big city! He must have seen many pretty Indian girls there.
But he had reassured them: “Still Indian, Ma. I’m open to an arranged marriage. No problem.”
They were overjoyed.
“What good fortune,” they thought. “Willing to listen to his parents and family wishes, despite being abroad for five years.”
“This is Indian culture,” his mother said proudly to anyone within earshot.
The father boasted to his own father, the boy’s grandfather, who just harrumphed.
“We shall see. Foolish to send him overseas. What’s wrong with India? Everything’s available here now. Even American companies say they must go to India. Why send our only son? Stupidity.”
The father beat a hasty retreat. Sometimes he couldn’t handle the old man’s stubborn streak. He himself was proud of his son — the first to earn a postgraduate degree, the first to go overseas in the neighborhood, and among their circle of friends.
Now, of course, everyone was going. But back then, it had just been them.
The family wanted a desi2 girl.
They worried who their son might marry abroad—perhaps a modern girl who might estrange him from them. Better to search for someone who still understood Indian culture. Adjust to them.
“Not like Mrs. Patel’s daughter-in-law,” a relative whispered, “who separated them from their son. Now they live apart—even in India. Imagine that!”
Scary.
Not Aishwarya Rai3 type beauty, of course, but someone simple, modest, and pretty. Not too pretty.
“After all,” they reasoned, “he’s just average himself — but she should be pretty or an easy face with a good disposition! Too pretty, and she might put on airs. He will suffer.”
The next day, the photo arrived.
Everyone crowded around the aunt’s phone.
“She looks pretty!”
“She’s wearing a sari.”
“Look at the complexion — so fair.”
“Her smile!”
They liked her.
👉 Want to see what happens when Pooja finds out? What does she think of the mysterious engineer from New York? Join the premium subscribers to continue reading this satirical take on a modern-traditional Indian proposal!