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“You have a new message,” says the notification icon on OkCupid. It’s from Akash, 32, New Delhi.
The message simply says: “What’s the funniest assertion about life that you’ve heard?”
I smile, then click on his profile. It’s a comprehensive one: he’s filled out every category dutifully, right down to his height and body type. His bio is both interesting and funny, with enough detail for me to get a good idea about his personality. OkCupid’s algorithm tells me we’re 87 percent compatible. Yes, I would definitely grab a beer with this man.
He’s also representative of a modern breed of Indian man. Yes, ‘Akash, 32, New Delhi’ is the face of the future: a man who understands online dating.
Dating apps are still relatively new in India, as is the idea of dating itself, especially online dating. In a country where most people meet strangers for the purpose of marriage, it still feels a little subversive to announce that you met your partner on a dating app. After all, dating apps don’t offer the kind of information most Indian people want to know about a partner: what kind of family are they from? Which part of the city do they live in? What does their father do for a living?
For centuries we’ve been answering these questions. Prospective grooms in India have been judged on their earning capacity, their professional degrees, or their green-card status. On the basis of these professional qualifications, they’re matched with suitable women. It’s a model that doesn’t require the man to do much – he doesn’t have to work on his personality or attractiveness (these are considered to be of little importance in the marriage market). All he has to do is to a) be a boy, and b) tell his parents: “Mummy-Papa, find me a girl to marry.” He relies on his family and connections to determine his romantic destiny.
In stark contrast, women in India have always been judged on the basis of how they look, or how round their chapatis are. Read any matrimonial newspaper column or website, women are valued on the basis of the fairness of their complexions, their height, body types, and so on and so forth. As for the rest – the words “homely”, “modest,” and “accomplished”, crop up frequently. (It reads straight out of Jane Austen: women are expected to speak multiple languages, play the piano, and do fine embroidery.)
This explains the flood of “hi dear, luking very nice : ) ; “send bobs and vagene” messages that inundate women’s Facebook and Instagram DMs. Although they can be frustrating to receive, it’s understandable in a cultural context that advocates the segregation of men and women from birth.
I look back to my high school days, when I was called into PTA meetings for “talking to boys.” Although the talking was entirely innocent, we were punished for a normal and healthy boy-girl rapport. Is it any wonder that men grow up clueless about the ‘mating dance’?
The only courtship models Indian men have – the only representation of romance that they see, is Bollywood – which is both unrealistic and unhelpful. There are any number of Chetan Bhagatesque movies-made-from-books that teach men to obsess over single women, and to stalk and pursue them until they say “yes”.
These movies teach men to leave women creepy notes, to follow them home, to place them on a pedestal, and above all – not to take “no” for an answer.
I remember one memorable night with my best friend at Summerhouse Café in Delhi. A man approached us as we’re having an impassioned debate on feminism.
“Hi, girls,” he said confidently.
We returned his greeting politely, then resumed our conversation. Unfortunately, the stranger wouldn’t be deterred: he muscled into our conversation as if he was a welcome guest. Despite our frequent and unsubtle signals of disinterest, he continued to flirt with the both of us. We had to walk away from him multiple times before he abandoned his mission – that’s how long it took for him to grasp that he may not be God’s gift to Indian women.
Dating apps like OkCupid are extraordinary because they destroy the existing balance of power. Single women are at liberty to pick and choose their partners – historically that has been the prerogative of men.
Now if they use such apps, they’ll have to find some decent pictures, fill out their bios, and figure out how to showcase their best qualities. They’ll have to compose wittier messages than merely “Hi’s,” or risk getting ignored (a consequence that never previously existed.)
They’ll also have to consider their own views on subjects like feminism, and the topic of children, and world philosophy. If they want a better match on apps like OkCupid, they’ll have to fill out a series of questions that takes them to task on these topics – topics that the average Indian male doesn’t have to think too deeply about! (After all, he has inherited his politics from his parents: he has never been judged on his worldviews before.)
Millennials are turning away from what older generations might have considered most important, and considering what they want from romantic partners. People like ‘Akash, 32, New Delhi’ are evolving to become better companions, and determining compatibility on the basis of worldviews instead of astrological charts.
However, one of the saddest things about Indian society is the lack of upward mobility: it’s very difficult to overcome class, caste, and religious barriers (in fact, people are matched only on the basis of these). The fact that dating apps like OkCupid allow for the possibility of meeting someone from a different religion or tax bracket by prioritising values and shared wavelength, is hope for a progressive future.
(Priya-Alika Elias, is a published author and a freelance writer. She tweets at @priya_ebooks. This is an opinion piece, and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)
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