Indian parents on dating
When my father at last gave the two of us permission to be alone, I ushered Alex into our family room to chat for a quick 20 minutes and decide whether or not I'd marry him. If Alex happens to be around, they appraise us both, searching for signs of trauma or misery. But the life we live together is still difficult for me to reconcile.
When I tell people here in America that I have an arranged marriage, they react in one of two ways. Eventually, they lean in and whisper, “Well, it ended up just fine, right? For one thing, the words "arranged marriage" conjure up images that have nothing to do with me. Love, though—the practical, everyday love we choose in spite of our differences—is unwavering. Neither Alex nor I, when we describe our first meeting, use words like “attraction,” or “love at first sight,” or “romance.” I don’t say, “My pulse raced when you walked in the door.” He doesn’t say, “I got tongue-tied every time you asked me a question.” Neither of us says, “I really wanted to kiss you when we said goodbye.” In my case, what arranged marriage took away early on was the thrill of pursuit.
I like him.” Nothing extraordinary about what she said and I didn’t technically need her approval to date David.
But there was a certain sense of sweet relief, intense happiness, and a child-like excitement knowing that my sister approves of my boyfriend. Dad and I trust you and if you think he’s the right one for you, then you have our support.” I was surprised.
They never seemed to care about culture and/or religion when it came to the men we dated. I hope they’re okay.”, she sounded genuinely concerned. his Uncle’s family lives there but their house was unharmed. Over the next few months, I had Dave briefly chat with my parents over the phone/skype every once in a while.
But that was in India where most of everyone is Brown. If you heard them talk, you couldn’t tell David wasn’t their own son. Long distance dating was tough but not particularly horrible for us.
I wasn’t sure how they would react to the news of my boyfriend being Black. Wasn’t there a big earthquake there recently that destroyed a lot of homes? Fast forward a year, I have now graduated and moved to Washington, D. After 2 years, when David graduated, he secured his dream job in the same company I was working for.
May be that’s my I subconsciously withheld that detail. My next big challenge was telling my parents Dave was going to move in with me.
When I told my sister about David, her initial response wasn’t negative but one of skepticism.
My sister being the older, much protective, sibling, I recalled a similar reaction from her each time I dated someone new, regardless of race or nationality.
We both ended up not discussing it further at the time.
Yes, I know this is hard for most Americans to understand, but it's true. But what can "choice" mean in such restrictive circumstances? Yes, we’ve changed, and yes, we’ve accommodated, but isn’t No, my elders would say emphatically, it is not. He’s a committed provider and a loving father to our two children.
During my senior year of college, my parents contacted a network of friends and relatives, and an international community came together to find me a husband. In ways I’m still coming to understand, it's our not-choosing that has reverberated across the years of our marriage, breaking us in ways we can’t mend, and recreating us in others. We have a comfortable life, rooted in tradition, family, and culture.