Toronto Star, 
CONTEXT 
Sunday, July 21, 1996

She can wed tradition to today Metro matchmaker reveals delicate balancing act to 'arrange' a South Asian marriage

WE'RE SITTING in a quiet corner of an exclusive restaurant in downtown Toronto. I chose this location so we can remain inconspicuous. The two young people with me shall be called Vijay and Tanya.

Tanya, 19, fiddles with her handbag and tries to look confident. Vijay, 24, twirls his empty water glass, clears his throat for the umpteenth time, trying very hard to be suave. I try to blend into the woodwork.

With the three of us there is no question that I'm the crowd.

I am their matchmaker.

This is Vijay's and Tanya's second meeting, and their first meeting alone (if you don't count me). They met earlier at my house when the two families came together because they had indicated an interest in finding a suitable match for their offspring.

 set up that first meeting. The two families had never met; when they did, they liked each other. More importantly, Vijay and Tanya wanted to "get to know each other more."

And so, here we are on this chaperoned rendezvous.

I excuse myself to get some fresh air. The young couple looks relieved. I give them about half an hour alone. When I return there's a little more animation on both faces, some laughter (a good sign). All's well for tonight.

As Tanya discreetly leaves for a minute, Vijay comments, "She's lovely, but I'd like to see more of her." I promise to try.

On the way home, Tanya indicates she likes Vijay. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Now the matter is out of my hands. Both families will follow up. If the match works out, I'll probably get a special invitation to the wedding. If not, we'll try somewhere else.

And so that's my volunteer job: I'm one of those who helps to bring families together. But I do this only with people I know.

Matchmaking is quite the scene in Canada because the social structure of the South Asian community here is not conducive to the automatic matchmaking that occurs in Southeast Asia. There, marriages are the natural outcome of continuous interaction among relatives, friends and acquaintances - plus the discreet help of meddling matchmakers.

I consider myself a bit of a meddler, because I come from a generation of arranged marriages. I got involved in this interesting exercise for two reasons (neither of which involve my bank account). My mother was a compulsive matchmaker and always said, "It's for a good cause."

Second, I realize that South Asian families living in Canada don't have the luxury of built-in matchmaking. For them, it's important to "network" and also have venues where eligible young women and men can meet and interact within the norms laid out by their community or religion - whichever plays a stronger role in their lives. People who know people who have eligible children are always interested in meeting other such people.

Besides, I have a vested interest: when my two boys come of age, I hope someone will return the favor.

There are some unwritten ground rules involved in matchmaking. If the two parties don't jibe for any particular reason, it's acceptable to draw back. Usually there are no hard feelings.

Many Westerners don't understand that. They confuse "arranged" marriages of today with forced marriages - which did occur in the past and may still occur in small segments of Asian societies.

There also used to be "totally arranged" marriages - like that of my sister who didn't see my brother-in-law until the day they got hitched. Thirty years later, she is happily married, but that type of union wouldn't fly with today's young South Asian descendants in Canada.

The "semi-arranged" match is the one most acceptable to young and old. This is when it's set up for young people to meet and get to know each other, the families approve and the match is made.

The first time I arranged a match, it was for my brother-in-law, Ahsan. I was visiting England, he was in Pakistan and I got a message that there was an "eligible" young woman from a very respectable family in London. Would I please visit, show a photo of the pros- t+0 pective groom and check out the family?

I freaked. I didn't know what to do, how to behave, what to wear. But I made contact and was invited for tea.

Dressed in my Sunday best, I arrived at the house and was greeted warmly by the young woman's family. They served me an elaborate tea (this was the fun part) and we talked. I met Shanni (the prospective bride) and was immediately impressed to note that although she knew I was there to "see" her, she wasn't coy. She turned out to be incredibly sweet, well-educated and possessed of a great sense of humor (one of my personal prerequisites).

I knew my brother-in-law well enough to realize they would get along together. I showed her his picture and she said, "He's cute."

I figured "this is easy," and reported back to my mother-in-law that all was well and they could set the wedding date.

What I didn't know then and learned fast, is that members of the young woman's family have the right to make their own detailed inquiries about the young man, because they are, in effect, handing their child to a stranger.

(The young man's family may also make inquiries, but only with sensitivity. It is considered very bad form to in any way suggest that a woman is less than a suitable mate. The fear is that word might spread, and dim her marital chances should this match not be made.)

In my brother-in-law's case, he was called by Shanni's uncle and grilled to the core. Despite being a smart, personable young banker, he was sweating and wanting to run away by the time he was halfway through the "interview." But the uncle was just performing his duty as guardian of the family.

While all this was happening, I waited it out in London and, finally, upon the uncle's approval, took the marriage proposal. It was accepted. Ahsan and Shanni were encouraged to write and speak frequently to each other on the phone (never mind the phone bills).

Six months later they were formally engaged; in another six months, they got married. Today they are happily settled in London, with three kids.

I don't always meet success in my attempts to match people. There was the time recently when I thought two young people were perfectly suited but, when they met, they couldn't stand each other. Before it became embarrassing to all of us, they said, "Thanks but no thanks." Without a ruffled feather, we all went our way looking for other prospects.

Success of a marriage, any marriage, depends on many factors - the least of them being how the couple met. To South Asians, marriage is a life-long bond of pride and honor - for the couple and the two families involved. If differences arise, the family will help patch 
them up.

A factor that may lead to the success of many arranged marriages is the expectation factor. Children are told that parents know best, marriage is forever and love after marriage lasts longer than instant puppy love.

Take the case of Usman, 26, who is a brilliant, good-looking doctor with a bright career ahead of him. A perfect match for any young woman. Usman lives in Toronto, is totally liberated and modern, and yet he agreed to let his parents find him a mate.

His mother spent the past year trying to find a "suitable girl" (as we say in the South Asian vernacular) for Usman, but one didn't come along.

A month ago, Usman went to Pakistan for a short vacation, and saw a young woman his aunt had arranged for him to meet. They liked each other instantly, met a few times; the respective families approved of the match. Usman's parents were in Toronto and left everything in the capable hands of the aunt. A week later Usman got married. He is back now, beaming with happiness and faith that marriage is a great institution.

Even in a culture where family dominates, there are differing views of marriage. Anu, 17, is typical. She says that when she is ready to marry, she will accept a match her parents choose, as long as she meets the young man and gets to know him.

"Even if I meet and like a boy on my own, my family has to be part of the arrangement," Anu says. "I won't do anything without their blessing."

That would make her the third generation in her family to accept arranged marriage.

Her grandmother Pushpa, who is 69, had a totally arranged marriage. Pushpa's daughter Renu (Anu's mother), now 45, had a semi-arranged marriage.

Anu frowns upon the word arranged. "I'd rather call it an 'introduction,' " she says.

Her brother Rahul, 19, is not too keen on the family involvement scene. "If I love someone, then it doesn't matter about her family. Of course, I'd like my family to approve, but it's my life and my choice. Arranged marriages are old-fashioned and restricted to the Asian community."

But are they? Not according to my Italian hairdresser, who is in her 17th year of a happy, arranged marriage; not according to my Chinese friend who says arranged marriages are still popular; nor my Portuguese colleague who wishes there were more matches being arranged; nor my Greek neighbor who finds arranged marriages a great asset in her community.

Then there's Michelle, mother of three girls, a "WASP" Canadian. "Now that I know how the system works, I'd love for my daughters to have arranged matches," she says.

"So when do I register them with you?"

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