A 26-year-old working woman opens up about navigating today's arranged marriage and dating market where expectations have multiplied, contradictions have deepened and finding a 'suitable' partner feels harder than ever.

At 26, Diya Parekh (name changed on request) is doing everything she has been told she should. She's financially independent, driven, articulate and clear about what she wants from life.
Yet, for the last two years, she has been navigating a space that feels increasingly hostile to women like her -- the modern arranged marriage and dating market.
"What surprises me the most is how transactional the whole process has become," says Diya, who began actively looking for a partner around two years ago.
"Earlier, expectations existed. Now it feels like people are prioritising random checkboxes over values, compatibility and intelligence."
What was once considered a natural next step now feels like a never-ending audition.
In today's marriage market, Diya feels the illusion of endless choice, fuelled by dating apps and matrimonial portals, has made people harsher, not happier.
"Because people think there are unlimited options, they reject for the smallest reasons," she says. "Everyone wants something 'out of their league' without bringing something similar to the table."
Expectations from women, she feels, have not just evolved, they have multiplied. Women are expected to be ambitious yet non-intimidating, attractive yet low-maintenance, financially independent yet family-oriented, modern yet traditional.
"They want 10 women in one," Diya says. "You can't get everything. People have forgotten that."
While expectations from women have risen dramatically, Diya believes the same can't be said for men. Financial stability remains the primary benchmark but qualities like emotional intelligence, communication and accountability are often missing.
"Most men are emotionally unavailable," she says. "They ghost instead of communicating. There's no accountability. And when women say they want emotional maturity, people act like we're asking for too much."
For Diya, money alone doesn't cut it anymore. "You can't be rich and shallow," she adds. "That combination doesn't work."
Over time, Diya has learnt that rejection rarely comes from incompatibility but often from superficial judgment.
One of the most baffling reasons Diya has been rejected for is wearing spectacles. In the first few meetings, she wore contact lenses. But the moment she showed up in spectacles, the energy shifted.
A man directly asked her if she could wear lenses all the time. When she said that wasn't practical or comfortable, he told her he'd be okay only if she continued wearing contacts.
Another time, after giving a man a chance despite his own insecurities, she was told she was "too thin" for him. "It felt dehumanising," she admits. "We never even reached conversations about values."
Astrology, too, has played its part. "Families let you talk, meet, emotionally invest and then say the kundli doesn't match. Why not check that first before involving us?"
Like many in her generation, Diya turned to dating apps hoping to meet someone organically. A self-described hopeless romantic, she wanted a genuine connection.
Instead, she encountered hook-up culture disguised as commitment. "People say they want relationships but push for intimacy before even meeting,' she says.
One particularly uncomfortable experience, where a date showed up with a friend who stayed on and mocked her, made her realise apps weren't for her. "That's when I knew this wasn't what I was looking for."
Another deal-breaker she has encountered is her work. As a working woman, her job sometimes demands long hours and late evenings, something that didn't go down well with several potential matches.
"They don't directly say they want a housewife anymore," she explains. "They say they want a working, ambitious woman but that's only comfortable for them if it is on their terms."
Men have expressed discomfort with her coming home late, even when it's work-related. "They want ambition, independence and drive," Diya says, "but they also want someone who's home early every day. It's a contradiction."
Between work deadlines, family expectations, first dates and constant rejection, the emotional toll adds up.
"It's like emotional burnout," Diya explains. "Some days you're fine; some days the anxiety creeps in, especially when people remind you that time is ticking."
The hardest part, she says, is how society equates being unmarried with personal failure. "Just because you're not married doesn't mean something is wrong with you."
Thankfully, she says, her parents understand and recognise that the market itself is deeply flawed.
Despite everything, Diya is quick to clarify that not all experiences have been disappointing. There was one man she met who stood out for all the right reasons.
"He knew how to treat a woman right," she says. "He was respectful, generous and emotionally mature. Honestly, one of the best guys I've met through this entire process."
The only reason it didn't work out had nothing to do with compatibility. He wanted to eventually settle in the US while Diya didn't want to live far away from her parents.
"It was a practical decision," she says. "But it showed me that decent, emotionally aware men do exist, even if timing and circumstances don't always align."
For now, Diya continues to hold her ground, unwilling to shrink her ambition, compromise her values or settle for conditional acceptance.
In a market full of contradictions, that clarity may be her biggest strength.
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