Threads of Tradition: Tales Of Indian Arranged Marriages

1.

Paridhi’s POV

I stood by the large, arched window of our home in Jodhpur, gazing out at the sprawling gardens below. The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over everything, and a warm breeze carried the scent of blooming marigolds into the room. It was my favorite time of day—the calm after the morning rush, when the city began to quiet down, and serenity slowly settled in. Yet today, my mind was anything but calm.

I had just returned from a meeting with my parents, which had left me conflicted. For as long as I can remember, I have always been fiercely independent. I had built a career for myself as an architect, earning respect not just in my hometown but across the state. At 26, I was used to making my own decisions—about my life, my work, and my future. But today’s conversation had shaken my usual resolve.

My parents, Rajesh and Meenakshi Rathore had brought up the topic of marriage. Arranged marriage, to be precise.

“Devansh Mehta,” my father had said, his voice steady but hopeful. “He’s a businessman, settled in London. The family is traditional, but they’ve been living abroad for years. It’s a good match.”

I had remained quiet, letting the information sink in. I knew this conversation was coming—after all, it was common for girls my age in our circle to be married or at least engaged. But I hadn’t expected it to come so soon, or to feel so torn when it finally did.

My mother had chimed in then, her tone soft but insistent. “He seems like a nice boy, Paridhi. His family reached out to us, and from what we’ve learned, he’s responsible, kind, and doing well for himself. You’d be happy with him.”

Happy. That word lingered in the air now, echoing in my mind. What did happiness even look like in this context? I had spent years envisioning my life—traveling, working on architectural projects, maybe even starting my own firm. Marriage had always been in the background, a distant possibility, something that would happen when the time was right. But was that time now? And would I really find happiness in a marriage that had been arranged for me, with a man I barely knew?

I sighed and turned away from the window. The room was dimly lit, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the walls. I could hear the distant chatter of my younger cousins playing in the garden, their laughter a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in my head.

I loved my family deeply, and I understood their intentions. Arranged marriages were a tradition, a way of ensuring stability and harmony between families. But I had always imagined love would play a more prominent role in my life. Not just duty.

Still, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe I was being too rigid. Life didn’t always unfold according to plan, and sometimes, compromises had to be made. I knew my parents only wanted the best for me, and I trusted their judgment. Devansh’s family had a good reputation, and from what my parents had told me, he seemed decent and respectful.

The phone on my nightstand buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. It was my best friend, Anjali.

I answered with a weary sigh. “Hey.”

Anjali didn’t waste any time. “So, how did it go? What did they say? Are you engaged now?”

I laughed softly, despite the weight on my chest. “No, not yet. But they did introduce me to someone. Devansh Mehta. He lives in London.”

“London?” Anjali’s voice was incredulous. “Are you serious? Wow, that’s... far. What do you think?”

I leaned against the edge of my bed, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the embroidered patterns on the duvet. “I don’t know, Anjali. It’s all happening so fast. He seems like a good guy, but...”

“But?”

“But what if it’s not enough? I mean, I barely know him. What if I can’t adjust to his life? Or worse, what if I lose myself in all of this?”

Anjali was quiet for a moment, letting my concerns hang in the air. Then she spoke softly, her voice full of empathy. “Pari, I get it. It’s a big decision. But you’ve always been so sure of who you are. I don’t think you’ll lose yourself. And maybe... just maybe, this could be the start of something you didn’t even know you needed.”

I closed my eyes, letting Anjali’s words sink in. I had always trusted myself and believed in my ability to navigate whatever life threw my way. Maybe this was just another challenge, another path I hadn’t considered.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

Anjali’s tone lightened. “So, are you going to meet him?”

“I think so,” I replied. “My parents are arranging for us to meet this weekend. I guess I’ll get a better sense of things then.”

“Good. And if he turns out to be a total bore, you can always call me, and I’ll come to rescue you,” Anjali teased, making me laugh again.

“Thanks, Anjali. I’ll keep that in mind.”

After we hung up, I remained sitting on the edge of my bed, my thoughts quieter but still uncertain. I knew the weekend would be a turning point. Meeting Devansh face to face would shed some light on my feelings.