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Sima Aunty’s failure rate on Indian Matchmaking remains as high as ever

I don’t know about you but I sometimes feel that Indian Matchmaking should be retitled Indian MatchNotMaking. Given the near-total failure rate of Sima Aunty (or Sima from Mumbai as she invariably - and cringemakingly - introduces herself) in actually arranging matches for her clients, that would be a more accurate descriptor. 

If you ask me, Sima Taparia is lucky that she is self-employed. If she had been working for a professional organisation her lack-of-success rate would have led to her being fired two seasons ago. 

It’s not just that Sima Aunty fails to deliver for most of her clients. It’s that it appears as if she is not actually listening to them when they tell her what they are looking for in a prospective spouse. It’s either that or she purposefully (almost spitefully) refuses to give them even the bare minimum of what they ask for — and I genuinely don’t know which one is worse. Instead she asks them (in increasingly imperious tones) to ‘adjust’ - to lower their expectations, to compromise on their wish lists no matter how modest, to settle because nobody can get ‘100 percent, only 60, 70 is possible’.

So when a divorcee called Priya says that hair is very important for her and that she likes a man bun, Sima Aunty produces a - wait for this - bald man for her delectation. Though it is hard to feel sorry for Priya because when the requisite man bun is conjured up for her she goes off him because he is a bit too quick to say that he likes her. 

Frankly, just as Sima Aunty doesn’t seem that keen on finding the ideal matches from her pile of bio-datas, her clients don’t seem to be that invested in finding their perfect match either. There is ER doctor Vikash who turns down one girl because she can’t speak Hindi; and then rejects the next one because while she does speak Hindi, she also has an Indian accent. In that moment it is easy to understand why this man on the cusp of 40 is still single. 

It is telling that in this season, the one match that looks like it might end in marriage is one that Sima Aunty has not arranged. Arti, who starts off by wanting to marry a Sindhi (like her late father wanted), confesses to a lack of attraction to the candidate Sima Aunty has unearthed and decides to venture on to a dating app to explore her options instead. And a few months later, there she is, getting engaged to a Pakistani Muslim guy (so much for marrying ‘within the community’!) who seems head over heels in love with her. And all Sima Aunty can do is grit her teeth and wish them well over Zoom. 

So, what am I missing here? Given that Sima Aunty hasn’t managed to get a single couple married over 3 seasons, why do singles keep signing up for this show? Are they so desperate that they are willing to try anything? Is this a triumph of hope over experience? Or are these savvy young people just clout chasing with appearances on a Netflix show?

The jury may be out on that one. But I know which way I would vote if I were on it. 

Match point

Indian Matchmaking is back and is as compelling viewing as ever

 

What does one say about a TV show about matchmaking in which the only couple who do get married don’t meet through the matchmaker? Well, I guess the only thing one can say is that the new season of Indian Matchmaking (on Netflix) doesn’t really make a great case for matchmakers.

 

Don’t get me wrong. Sima Aunty – or Sima from Mumbai, as she persistently introduces herself – is a great character, full of vim and vigour and the occasional devastating put-down. When it comes to matchmaking, though, she doesn’t exactly have a stellar success rate, going by her clients who feature in this series (maybe, in all fairness, she has better luck off screen). But despite the fact that none of her matches seem to take, Sima Aunty sallies forth in every episode, confidence undented, folio of biodatas in hand, with unalloyed optimism in her heart. Bless!

 

It is her clients who worry me, though. There is an endless stream of strong, confident 30-somethings who have stellar careers, beautiful homes, loving families and supportive friends, who nonetheless feel that their lives are not complete unless they have a spouse in tow as well. And that’s just the men – the women are, if anything, even more desperate to ‘settle down’. And for some reason, all these sentient adults seem to believe that the answer to their dreams lies in the biodatas that Sima Aunty brings to every meeting. 

 

It's telling that it is the matchmaker herself who tries to lower their expectations. After asking them to list their criteria for a match, she shakes her head and says that nobody gets a 100 per cent match. They will have to compromise and adjust to find a match (or what her clients refer to as ‘settling’).

 

The lists of ‘criteria’ give us an insight into the minds of these clients – but not in the way they were hoping. They all claim to be open-minded but they all want to be matched with someone within their own community. The partner has to be Indian, sometimes even specifically from one particular state, and one client even asks that her match be fluent in her mother tongue (because otherwise he may not get the family jokes!). One guy – who strangely enough, remains unmatched until the end – wants a girl who is extroverted as well as introverted (no, me neither). And oh yes, she must know how to make pakoras like his mother. 

 

The list of demands ranges from the impossible to the improbable, with a specificity that is mind-boggling. So much so that by the end, you develop a sneaking sympathy for Sima Aunty who has to deal with everything from a desire for man buns and tattoos to rustling up a man who is into sky-diving. As she bleats sadly, only 60 per cent to 70 per cent is possible.

 

But never mind all these demanding clients. It is another character entirely that plays a starring role in the series. And it’s called Karma. (Look away now if you don’t want any spoilers.)

 

The first victim is Nadia. The show opens with her inviting her match, Shekar, home to meet her family. You would think that things were getting serious between them. But then she meets a younger man, Vishal, and before you can say ‘Nick Jonas’ she is snogging him on the dance floor in front of the mortified Shekar. To make matters worse, she drops him on a Facetime call, ending it by saying that she has to go because she and Vishal have ordered dinner – and Shekar walks off into the sunset in tears.

 

Cut to a few weeks later. Vishal flies in to have dinner with Nadia, and announces that he doesn’t feel ‘that spark’ with her and that it’s over. It is now Nadia’s turn to dissolve into tears.

 

And then, there is Vinesh, who turns down Mausam because she is not hot enough for him, only to be turned down by his next match. The pneumatic nurse, Meena, purses her filler lips to dismiss him as one of the frogs she has to (metaphorically) kiss before she finds her Prince. 

 

As they don’t say, Karma is a dish best served by a hot girl!