A popular trope for movies and TV shows alike is the romance brewing in arranged marriages, a classic representation of Indian kinship practices. While newer versions have emphasized the notions of ‘choice’ and ‘love’ within these ‘arranged’ set-ups, a long-standing trope, and in fact, a most beloved trope for Indian audiences is the “finding love in the new husband instead of the forgotten lover” story. Mainstream Bollywood movies have time and again presented the dilemma of an Indian girl who is forced to forsake her own choice of partner and marry another man. After an obvious discomfort with this new partner or rather the ‘arranged’ husband, this Indian girl eventually falls in love with her parents’ choice.
Even as millions of fans have romanticized and swooned over this new man who stands to represent patience, unconditional love and loyalty, there seems to be a much more sinister message wrapped up in the ‘happy ending’. What seems to be forgotten or rather conveniently ignored is the way in which these marriages are actually arranged. The happy ending of the husband and wife confessing their love to each other carefully erases the fact that the woman was in fact forced into this marriage against her wishes. The characteristic Indian obsession with marriage and commitment manifests itself in a romanticized ending which tells the audience what it wants to hear: that marriage is always the happy ending and that no matter how the parents force their daughters to marry the man of their liking it eventually turns out to be the ‘right’ choice.
This solves many hidden needs of our patriarchal society: firstly, it openly undermines the woman’s choice and her agency to choose a partner for herself. Not only is the former lover somehow shown to be unfit or even outrightly undesirable, but the husband is also portrayed as a symbol of patience, unconditional love and loyalty. In Namastey London, Katrina Kaif’s character Jazz discovers that her chosen partner is abusive and dominating which starkly contrasts with the man she was coerced into marrying i.e. Akshay Kumar’s character Arjun, who comes out on top in all aspects, whether it’s love or even sports. A ludicrous drama like Dhadkan ropes the audience in by demonizing the former lover ‘Dev’ while placing the new husband ‘Ram’ on a higher pedestal. Manmarziyan’s trope, though fairly different, eventually ends up selling the same message, that these women somehow choose the wrong partner and that wrong can only be righted by their parents’ intervention.
Establishing the inherently incorrect choice of these female characters then leads to the validation of their family’s open coercion. Not only is the fact of coercion erased by the inevitable germination of ‘love’, the portrayal of the husband as the ideal life partner hits the point home: that parents’ judgment of character or choice of partner is right and that forcing the woman into a marriage is acceptable as long as she eventually finds happiness. In Namastey London, Hum Dil Chuke Sanam, and Dhadkan, among other movies, the female lead is blatantly forced to marry the man her father approves of and suffers the trauma of heartbreak and captivity. These forced “arranged marriages are either an exercise in taming the shrew or keeping a docile woman in her state of docility”
Indeed, many Bollywood movies have successfully injected patriarchal beliefs and notions including the normalisation of domestic violence, toxic masculinity, and the inviolable sanctity of marriage for the woman. Sociologically, one can decode the simple depiction of Jazz being forced to marry an Indian Punjabi man (who is far superior to the abusive White man she loves) as an example of ethnic (caste/religious/racial) endogamy. Empowering parental control over the woman’s agency inevitably protects the caste and religious endogamy that persists in Indian society. Even as shows Indian Matchmaking are reinforcing the importance of ‘arranged marriage’ while subtly promoting endogamy and hetereonormativity, movies like Anurag Kashyap’s Manmarziyan are failing to capture ‘real love stories’ which are in reality riveted with class and caste considerations. An interesting binary emerges in the understanding of violence as well. The middle classe-upper caste families watching these movies develop a twisted understanding of happy and consensual marriages that function on a cynical “ends justify the means” principle. They only understand ‘forced marriages’ as openly violent events that only happen in the cases of Khap Panchayats.
Of course, one can find comfort in the fact that these movies are no longer attention-worthy in these changing times with Bollywood movies having to up their game in competition with excellent work in the South and the rising OTT content. However, sexist and problematic tropes are still seeping through the cracks and are alluring a sizeable audience too.
Smriti R. Sharma
