Pakistan’s traditional matchmakers play a respected role in grooming daughters as potential brides, but matrimonial apps advertising themselves as halal are offering women a new avenue to find husbands. are.
Eza Nawaz, a Lahore-based textile designer, told AFP: “When I saw a colleague who was happily married to someone he met online… we have been trying Rishta Aunty for four to five years, so we thought we would try this too. I thought I’d take a look,” he told AFP. .
In a country where dating is considered dishonorable, rishta aunties (traditional matchmakers) polish women and introduce them to potential suitors’ families.
But in recent years, marriage apps aimed at Muslims have appeared in Pakistan, promising so-called “love matches.”
Some services offer a “chaperone” option. It provides a weekly record of messages sent and received by selected relatives, satisfying families wary of their son or daughter connecting with strangers.
For Ezza, it was a success. Just three months after meeting Waseem Akhtar on Muzz, she got married.
“We went on a few dates before we got our families involved. We took our time,” she said.
According to a survey by Gallup and Gilani Pakistan, more than 80% of Pakistanis have arranged marriages, where marriages are decided by the family and sometimes the engagement is decided without the bride and groom ever meeting.
The parents seek the help of a professional rishta aunt to find a suitable family, but first impressions are based on the way the young woman looks when her potential in-laws pour her tea. There are often
But since the app launched an advertising campaign in major cities last year, 1.2 million Pakistanis have registered and 15,000 people have already gotten married.
The dating app bills itself as “halal,” meaning permissible in Islam, offers the option to blur profile pictures to protect privacy, and makes clear that its purpose is to lead to a marriage proposal.
But they continue to fight the stigma that links them to casual dating apps like Tinder, which was banned in Pakistan for being “immoral”.
“I don’t tell people how I met my wife until I’m sure they won’t judge us,” Waseem said.
– Tradition and modernity –
In Pakistan, where many people live in multi-generational households, marriage is seen as the coming together of two families.
Choosing one’s own husband or wife is a challenge to deeply ingrained respect for elders and can be seen as a threat to traditional family structures.
Rishta aunts are therefore relied on to find suitors from acceptable families, but the process is sometimes humiliating for young women who are widely expected to marry by the age of 25. Sometimes I feel that it is.
“He told me not to tell his family that my hobbies are hiking, photography, cooking and cleaning…I was angry when I heard that,” said Rida Fatima. Ta.
“They were so bold about what I looked like, what I did, how much money I made, who my family was, how many siblings I had, what my dreams were for the future. That’s why even the smallest thing will be judged.
Fatima was offered several possible marriage partners through an aunty in Rishta, whom her parents had nominated, but she was asked to pay about $700 for an introduction to a man.
Rates vary depending on whether the match has a foreign passport, she added.
In the end, she abandoned the marriage process and became part of the 18 percent of Pakistanis who meet their husbands by chance and enter into “love marriages.”
“No matter what a man looks like, whether he’s bald or has a big belly, he wants a wife who looks like a model,” said Muskan Ali, managing director of a marriage agency in Karachi. .
-Waste of time-
Rishta aunties do not feel threatened yet.
Their offices are crowded with parents and children creating profiles on computers, and matchmakers are trying to digitize their businesses with sophisticated websites and WhatsApp groups for communicating with clients.
Consultants teach young women how to walk, speak, and dress to best meet the wishes of their future in-laws.
Many traditional matchmakers, like Fauzia Azam, head of the Rishta aunty community in Rawalpindi, have rejected matrimonial apps altogether.
“People are wasting their time on these apps,” she says.
“I really don’t want to spend the whole night talking together.”
For feminist writer Aisha Sarwari, the matchmaking process is about exercising “control” over her daughter-in-law.
“I think we need to find a good compromise where there’s equal respect on both sides and no sense of degrading people just because they look a certain way or are a certain race,” she said. . AFP.
Digital media artist Aneela (name changed) tried her best to avoid being solicited by matchmakers and using matrimonial apps, but a new concern arose.
“It’s hard to use apps… men lie,” she said as she swiped through profiles at a cafe in Islamabad.
She later admitted that she used a fake name and photo on her profile to prevent the man from identifying her.
“The only option left is to have an arranged marriage instead.”
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