Sushmita Pathak. Is it a match? A potential couple meet up courtesy of a matchmaker in the Netflix series Indian Matchmaking. Netflix hide caption. A picky year-old from Mumbai whose unwillingness to marry raises his mom’s blood pressure. A headstrong year-old lawyer from Houston who says she doesn’t want to settle for just anybody.
In Netflix’s ‘Indian Matchmaking,’ Arranged Marriage Is The Anti-Entanglement
One of Netflix’s newest reality series Indian Matchmaking gives viewers a glimpse into the world of arranged marriages and Indian culture. Specifically, the show, which was filmed in , follows Mumbai-based matchmaker Sima Taparia and her partner-seeking clients as they navigate the tricky world of dating and compatibility. While the show has been met with notable criticism and sparked important conversations about colorism, casteism, and sexism, the series has quickly become a popular watch on the streaming service.
After seeing all eight episodes, many are left wondering what happened to the stars after the cameras stopped rolling. In case you’re curious, here’s an update on where each of Sima’s clients are today, and whether or not they’ve since found love after Indian Matchmaking :. One of the first individuals introduced on Indian Matchmaking , the Houston native appears to be living her best single life today.
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The notion of teaching them to adjust is at the crux of her process, as she works with entire families to find the right partner for their would-be brides and grooms. In some ways, the show is a modern take on arranged marriage, with contemporary dating horrors like ghosting and lacking the skills for a meet-up at an ax-throwing bar. But issues of casteism, colorism and sexism, which have long accompanied the practice of arranged marriage in India and the diaspora, arise throughout, giving viewers insight into more problematic aspects of Indian culture.
As an Indian-American girl growing up in Upstate New York, one part of my culture that was especially easy to brag about was weddings. They were joyful and colorful, and they looked more like a party than a stodgy ceremony. While living under the same roof in quarantine, my mom and I have had a lot of time to watch buzzy Netflix shows together. But I was hesitant to invite her to watch Indian Matchmaking with me, knowing her marriage to my dad was arranged. Did she like the process?
She shared with me some details of how her skin tone affected her life when she was growing up. She was often told not to play outside as a kid, that the sun would make her skin darker and no one would want to marry her. I was saddened to hear this, but it finally made sense to me why Indian relatives and friends had made comments with similar implications to me.
Since its release in mid-July, the show has done more than inspire interpersonal conversations like these. And much of the feedback—especially from members of the Indian diaspora—has been negative.
I was on the phone with my mother, who lives in Pune, India, complaining about Indian Matchmaking , when she brought up the marriage proposal. I knew she agreed. I scoffed. But watch Indian Matchmaking , and you may end the eight-episode arc of the smartly edited, highly bingeable show with a misleading idea of how arranged marriages actually work.
The show follows Sima Taparia, “Mumbai’s top matchmaker”, as she sets up lonely hearts living in India and the US. A few minutes into the first.
Coronavirus: How Covid has changed the ‘big fat Indian wedding’. India’s richest family caps year of big fat weddings. A new Netflix show, Indian Matchmaking, has created a huge buzz in India, but many can’t seem to agree if it is regressive and cringe-worthy or honest and realistic, writes the BBC’s Geeta Pandey in Delhi. The eight-part docuseries features elite Indian matchmaker Sima Taparia as she goes about trying to find suitable matches for her wealthy clients in India and the US.
In the series, she’s seen jet-setting around Delhi, Mumbai and several American cities, meeting prospective brides and grooms to find out what they are looking for in a life partner. Since its release nearly two weeks back, Indian Matchmaking has raced to the top of the charts for Netflix in India. It has also become a massive social phenomenon. Hundreds of memes and jokes have been shared on social media: some say they are loving it, some say they are hating it, some say they are “hate-watching” it, but it seems almost everyone is watching it.
The in-your-face misogyny, casteism and colourism on display have caused much outrage, but also inspired many to introspection. Ms Taparia, who’s in her 50s and like a genial “aunty” to her clients, takes us through living rooms that resemble lobbies of posh hotels and custom-made closets filled with dozens of shoes and hundreds of items of clothing. That, though, is mostly with her Indian-American clients – where men and women in their 30s have tried Tinder, Bumble and other dating apps and want to give traditional matchmaking a chance to see if it helps them find love.
The conversations back home in most cases happen with the parents because, as Ms Taparia says, “in India, marriages are between two families, and the families have their reputations and millions of dollars at stake so parents guide their children”. As we progress through the episodes, it’s obvious it’s much more than just guidance.
Unless You’re Brown, ‘Indian Matchmaking’ Is Not Yours to Criticize
The Netflix hit “Indian Matchmaking” has stirred up conversations about issues like parental preference in marriage, cultural progress, casteism — and ghosting. Taparia answered questions via email from Mumbai, discussing why none of the matches worked out, her own arranged marriage and how business is booming despite the coronavirus pandemic. Sima Taparia: They are not separate things.
In the Netflix series Indian Matchmaking, the importance of skin color arrives quickly in talk of matrimony, as do other facets of packaged.
Weddings may be delayed, but matchmaking is as busy as ever. So where did Ankita Bansal , the modern business woman, end up after having met not one, but two, matchmakers? There was Akshay Jakhete and then there was his mother, who blamed her rising blood pressure on Akshay’s slow journey to marriage. However, Akshay is feeling lighter post split. I feel so free. The men I went on dates with are who I really call my friends today.
Meet someone for keeps
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The Netflix hit “Indian Matchmaking” has stirred up conversations about issues like parental preference in marriage, cultural progress, casteism.
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Mixing documentary modes with dating show ridicule, it maintains and masks the most insidious injury arranged by marriage: caste. In the arranged marriage institution, proposals are familial, not individual. Parents organize heterosexist matches for their adult children from a shortlist of vetted candidates. The aim is an alliance between families. The currency of exchange is women. The metric of suitability plays fast and loose with consent and dignity.
Indian Matchmaking: The ‘cringe-worthy’ Netflix show that is a huge hit
Follow Us. The controversial Netflix show has reignited debate over traditional marriage matches, but without interrogating harmful stereotypes, says Meehika Barua. One evening in late November when I was heading for a meeting in Holborn, my Indian friend, who is 25, texted me to say that she was getting married.
The controversial Netflix show Indian Matchmaking has reignited debate over traditional arranged marriages in India, but without interrogating.
Indian Matchmaking unpacks only selectively what an upper-class, upper-caste Indian marriage entails. All of it costs, moneh, honeh. Oodles of it. And who pays for it? We see none of it on the Netflix show because it needs to be palatable to a global audience. Anyone in India would be asking the one question: how much? That would be the real, true, authentic voice of a Big Fat Indian Wedding.
Why do we never hear what Sima aunty charges for her services? She, who is a service provider par excellence, flitting from one destination to another, her basket of goodies overflowing with the right biodatas. The ghoonghat or the veil may have gone, but the downcast eyes are still desirable. Even today, in many homes, the bahu serves the men and the children. Then she eats. If the baby cries, she needs to soothe it; if she is doing something else, she needs to drop it when anyone in the house requires her services.