Finding a spouse in the Muslim community is rarely simple. Instead of a whirlwind romance, it often unfolds as a series of tea-fuelled interrogations, intense family negotiations, and the ever-watchful ‘rishta aunties’, who take matchmaking more seriously than an MI5 investigation.
The first step is the classic family introduction. One moment, you’re minding your own business, and the next, your parents are enthusiastically presenting a distant cousin’s neighbour’s son or daughter as your “perfect match.” You sit awkwardly, stirring your tea with great concentration while your family observes every movement like a panel of judges on a talent show. Does she hold her cup properly? Does she refill the elders’ glasses? The stakes are high, and the pressure is real.
Then come the rishta aunties—walking, talking databases of eligible singles. They operate with precision, gathering information about you, from your salary to the thickness of your hairline. Their feedback is refreshingly blunt: “Nice job, but too short,” or “Good family, but does she make round rotis?” They remind you that time is running out and share stories of how so-and-so got married in three weeks and is now living happily ever after.
Modern times have introduced new matchmaking options, from halal speed-dating at mosques (which often feel more like job interviews) to online matrimonial apps like Muzmatch and Shaadi.com. The apps promise efficiency, but even technology can’t prevent people from sneakily adding extra inches to their height or conveniently forgetting to mention that he already have a wife or two.
And then, of course, there is the age-old expectation of marrying a cousin from back home. Many parents argue that this keeps family bonds strong and preserves cultural traditions. However, for many young people, the idea of marrying someone they last saw playing with toy cars at a family wedding is less than thrilling. Saying no, however, invites emotional blackmail, dramatic sighs, and a reminder that “this is how things have always been done.”
For those daring enough to take matters into their own hands, university Islamic societies, community events, and professional networking circles offer alternative paths to meeting a spouse. Friendships that start over group projects or shared activism sometimes blossom into something deeper. But even here, the approval process is an uphill battle—because no matter how successful or pious your chosen partner is, they have to tick the right boxes.
In the end, the Muslim marriage hunt is a rollercoaster of expectations, traditions, and modern twists. Whether your journey includes an aunty, an app, or a chance meeting at a wedding, one thing is certain—chai and samosas will always be there to keep you going.
