From tea trolleys to swiping right — marriage culture’s come a long way but there’s still miles to go

I was scrolling through Instagram when a Muzz ad popped up with the message, “According to the UN, 10 million women in Pakistan are unmarried and looking for proposals.” For a middle-class girl in her twenties, it was rather shocking to see the pressure to get married, which is usually inflicted by elderly relatives and married friends, take the shape of an ad on Instagram.

In Pakistan, it’s no surprise that once you’ve reached a certain age, the pressure to get married reaches a fever pitch, even if no one says it outright. The funniest part is that this pressure (read, culture) has always existed. What’s interesting, though, is how it has taken new forms.

In desi families, an enduring practice has been for women to appear before families seeking suitable matches for their sons in what is known as the ‘tea-and-trolley parade’. For the longest time, men weren’t allowed to sneak a peek at the women they were marrying — although that is not the case anymore.

But a gender with privilege wasn’t permitted to see the person they’d be spending the rest of their lives with, so one can only imagine how much more restrictive the whole arranged marriage process was for women. While this process has evolved somewhat in urban settings with the girl and boy being granted a meeting under family supervision, things haven’t changed much in terms of how women are treated after marriage.

The process may have gone digital too in some cases, with apps like Muzz giving more control to those looking to be married.

Yet, it comes as a shock for most elders today when women say they do not wish to be married.

An August 2024 Gallup & Gilani Pakistan survey found that 80 per cent of adult Pakistanis are married, with women being 12pc more likely to be married than men. Rural residents are 8pc more likely to be married than their urban counterparts, indicating a trend of delayed marriages in urban areas. Among young adults aged 18 to 30, 56pc are married, while 44pc are not. While this survey isn’t far-reaching, it does give us an idea of general marriage statistics.

In order to navigate the contrasting narratives surrounding arranged and love marriages and understand their cultural implications, I spoke to women from different generations to better understand how shifting societal expectations affect perceptions of marriage.

‘I don’t think the culture was toxic’

“I was married for 35 years and we had a stable relationship. The first time I saw him was on our wedding night, and our first interaction was about the responsibilities I now had. He told me that since I was here, his mother would stop working and that this house was now mine, so the responsibilities belonged to me as well,” narrated Nusrat Jahan*, 60.

“I don’t think the culture was toxic. A woman has certain responsibilities, and it’s acceptable if her husband educates her about them. I spent 35 years in a successful marriage, and I was the person he listened to the most — all because I was a good wife who listened and obeyed him. Women today just want to be dominant in the name of… liberalism,” she added, pausing as she struggled to find a better word.

Jahan’s 28-year-old daughter Abeera* is single and has a different perspective

“My mother was deeply traumatised by my grandmother, who would often remind her of how short and dark-skinned she is and how ordinary she looks compared to my father. I’ve also been told multiple times about how my mother was rejected by various suitors before getting married to my father. Her so-called ‘successful marriage’ that she can’t stop talking about is all about the validation she gets from the extended family — validation that comes at the cost of her health and well-being,” Abeera explained, her tone charged with frustration at her mother’s views.

Abeera is currently under intense pressure to get married. Her mother feels she is too “uptight” for their culture. Marriage is a topic of heated debate between them, as they clash over their differing perspectives.

“Whenever I tell her she needs to compromise a little, she responds by saying she won’t lower her standards. What she fails to understand is that we cannot change the system; this has always been the norm, and it cannot be changed,” Jahan said defeatedly.

“I’ve seen women in my family suffer through unfulfilled marriages. I don’t want that, and I’m not a showpiece to be presented before strangers,” Abeera said.

The younger generation, represented by Abeera, is still rebellious and resisting, but for how long?

Sadia*, now in her 40s, was only 18 when her family began seeking matches for her. Though she dreamed of becoming a doctor, the loss of her parents led her family to arrange her marriage instead.

“I hadn’t processed my mother’s death before the proposals started pouring in, putting me in an awkward position. I had to cope with both grief and rejection,” she shared.

She recalled a traumatic experience when a proposal was called off at the last moment. “The family liked me, everything was finalised, but then he refused, saying he liked someone else. It felt like a slap on my ego, and I wondered what I lacked. Looking back, I see now it was the pressure to marry and my low self-esteem,” she said.

Today, Sadia has a daughter who’s 27 years old, but unlike Jahan, she pledges never to make her daughter go through what she went through. “I don’t want to transfer generational trauma to my children. I have a son and a daughter, and I give them complete freedom to choose whoever they want to marry. I am here to help them, but the final decision will be theirs,” she explained.

When discussing rishta culture, the focus is often on the difficulties women face, and rightly so since our gender has been subjected to harrowing practices compared to what men undergo. However, sometimes men also face struggles that impact them for a lifetime.

Zia*, nearing his late fifties, has supposedly been in a “happy” marriage for 29 years.

“We’re five brothers, and all of us married according to our parents’ choice. For me, the pressure was especially intense because I was the eldest and, according to my mother, the most handsome,” he said. Tall, fit, and soft-spoken, Zia embodies the qualities his mother believed made him good looking.

“My mother wanted the ‘perfect’ woman for me, and at one point, it became part of her routine to see at least five potential matches each day, rejecting each one for petty reasons like, ‘Oh, her nose is too straight,’ ‘She’s not fair enough,’ or ‘She can’t walk properly.’ Once, she met a girl with asthma and told her mother bluntly that she should start counting her daughter’s final days instead of planning her marriage,” he added, a hint of guilt in his tone.

Zia’s mother eventually found the “ideal” match she wanted, though it didn’t align with her son’s preferences. “My wife was 10 years younger than me, and I’ve always felt I was unfair to her. Her entire life revolved around keeping me and my family — especially my mother — happy, despite my mother being dissatisfied with her own choice. She was always on her toes, tirelessly holding everything together without complaint,” he recalled.

His wife passed away three years ago from an angina attack, leaving behind three daughters. “I can’t imagine a stranger entering my home and judging my daughters. But that makes me a hypocrite because I never stood up for my wife,” he said through tears.

Sarah*, Zia’s youngest daughter and “spitting image” as he calls her, shared a reflection on her parents’ relationship. “My dad is the best father in the world, but he was never a good husband.”

Solving perpetual conflicts

Dr Sana Yasir, a marriage counsellor specialising in neurolinguistic practices, believes that in a marriage, “if one partner loses, both lose,” and emphasised that marriage should be a companionship where two people work as a team against the world.

“You see how relationships have evolved over the years because your generation has broken the ideas instilled in us by our elders. Relationships now are based on ‘give and take,’ compatibility, and mutual goals. Essentially, the dynamics of commitment have been redefined by both genders — though more so by women, who have finally learned that they don’t have to go through hell to experience a ‘normal’ relationship,” she said.

“If I put this more accurately, marriages now are about ‘codependency’, instead of women depending on a man,” she added.

Using the example of a couple who believed they were in love before marriage but saw their relationship deteriorate afterwards, she discussed the concepts of “perpetual” and “solvable” conflicts.

Perpetual conflicts are difficult to resolve and can resurface in different forms even after an apparent resolution. They are often intense, painful, and rooted in fundamental differences between individuals. In contrast, solvable conflicts can typically be resolved through compromise and are often focused on a specific situation.

“In couples, roughly 40pc of problems are solvable, while 60pc are perpetual. This means you cannot change someone’s fundamental beliefs, so the idea of ‘I can fix them after marriage’ is flawed. Gaps in marriages are normal and can be bridged through affection and effort from both sides, but problems rooted in belief or moral systems are unlikely to be resolved. It’s also important to understand that love alone is not enough to sustain a marriage,” she explained.

She addressed the need to redefine communication in relationships by referring to the examples provided. “Partners must clearly express their expectations and listen actively without dismissing or mocking, something many men do when women try to communicate their needs. Women today are setting dynamics with their partners, which wasn’t common in earlier generations,” she said.

“If you mock women for needing reassurance or validation, you need to rework your beliefs. Reassurance is the bare minimum. If you ridicule your wife for wanting to feel valued and cherished, why be surprised when your marriage doesn’t work as expected?” she said with a chuckle, adding that identifying the core of the conflict and setting intentions to solve it, rather than playing a blame game, is the way to work on long-term commitments.

Dare to love — the aftermath

Love marriages might be more common now but back in the 90s and early 2000s, in some households, liking someone and actually marrying them was almost an act of rebellion.

In interviews with several millennial women who had love marriages, many described it as a “huge step” that left them exhausted. “I was around 23 when I met my husband, and we dated for two years before deciding to marry. Honestly, it was one of the worst periods of my life — I kid you not,” Neha*, now in her late 30s, shared.

“My parents were pretty progressive about love marriages, so they didn’t mind when I told them I wanted to marry someone I loved. But my husband’s parents — and not just them, his entire family — went nuts when he told them. I was shamed to the point that he almost considered backing off because he knew I would never be respected,” she added.

Neha’s husband’s fears did come true — despite being married for more than 12 years, she still hasn’t been accepted by his family.

“I tried my very best to make myself acceptable. I suppressed my own needs and never pressured my husband to take a stand for me, yet it all backfired. I am still seen as the woman who ‘stole’ their son — even though I might be the most educated daughter-in-law they have,” she shared.

When asked about their relationship dynamics and whether her status as an outsider affected them, she said she doesn’t regret marrying her husband. However, if she could offer one piece of advice to women in similar situations, it would be to seek out families that “accepted” them.

“Life is very, very long. You need community; you need a family. I don’t have that privilege. I love my husband and I know he loves me, but I feel it’s unfair to him too. He can’t leave his parents, and he can’t leave me. He tries to balance, but if I had known this would be my life, I would have thought carefully before making my final choice,” she mused.

Ehtisham*, 48, believes that women are “too emotional, sensitive, and have a lot of expectations from men.”

“I married a girl I liked for years, and it was only after the marriage that I realised she wasn’t the person for me. She didn’t understand anything and expected me to behave the same way I did when we were dating, without understanding that marriage changes the dynamics. She wouldn’t stop nagging me about how I had changed,” he said, frustration evident in his voice.

His parents had not approved of his wife, Sana*, 45, but she became a part of his family because he, being the eldest son, with all his responsibilities, wanted to marry her. But once she was accepted, every small reassurance she needed was denied.

“We have two kids, and during both my pregnancies, not only was I ridiculed by his family, but every time I asked him for reassurance, he’d tell me to grow up. He constantly reminded me that he grew to like me because I was ‘mature’ for my age. But don’t I deserve even two words of love and reassurance from my husband?” she asked, trying to hold back her tears.

The whole conversation is a reminder of how women are often misunderstood in marriages and that a lack of communication about each other’s expectations can lead to issues. Ehtisham and Sana could never have imagined their happily ever after turning out this way.

‘Women are way too picky now’

A significant number of millennials also opted for arranged marriages, facilitated by a central figure in rishta culture — the matchmaker. Matchmaking businesses flourished in the early 2000s.

“Now we don’t get as many registrations, but on average, we still receive at least 50. And they all ask for one thing now — a foreign guy or girl. Everyone wants to leave the country,” Naseema Bibi chuckled.

Naseema Bibi has been involved in the matchmaking business for nearly 10 years, taking over the work from her mother, who passed away three years ago.

“We charge Rs3,000 per proposal, and once it’s finalised, we take a commission — which I’d rather not disclose,” she said.

Naseema has seen the ins and outs of rishta culture over the past 10 years, a period that has also seen the world become more tech-savvy. In Pakistan, however, there were no real alternatives to traditional rishta practices at the time, since not many people were aware of online matrimonial or dating apps, which were not yet common.

“I feel that women are way too picky now, which used to bother my mother but it doesn’t bother me because I know how they have suffered for generations. Even I had to go through multiple humiliating experiences before I got married,” she said.

Naseema is not the traditional kind of rishta aunty, as she describes herself, but she is very much against the “unrealistic demands” women have.

“While I acknowledge the generational trauma women have gone through, I feel it is a bit unfair for them to expect men their age to earn six figures or to see money as the sole foundation of a marriage. Marriage is more than that, and these expectations are very shallow,” she remarked.

Gen-Z and the ‘right’ swipe

Dating apps like Bumble and Tinder, along with matrimonial apps like Muzz and Dil Ka Rishta, have given people many more options. Similarly, finding a date has become much simpler compared to the past — it’s usually just a swipe away. However, the remnants of deep-seated cultural toxicity persist and taking matters into one’s own hands comes with a different kind of baggage.

Muskaan*, 25, dated a guy she met on Bumble for three years, only to be rejected by his mother because she had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), and, according to the guy’s mom, she wouldn’t be able to conceive.

“I went to multiple doctors, basically pleading with them to write me a note stating that I could become a mother. [Eventually] a male gynaecologist made me sit down and rethink my life choices, helping me realise that what I was doing was wrong,” she said.

“I put my literal blood and sweat into this relationship, I had to get so many blood tests done just to fit into the family,” she added.

With matrimonial apps, the common perception is that they offer you a great number of options, which they do, however, most people in Pakistan are not really aware of the way these apps work, and mentally they’re not equipped to handle rejections and attachments.

“Men use them as dating apps, which I guess is not really surprising, however, it has been a transformative experience for me, as I got to find more about myself and what I wanted,” 26-year-old Hasan* shared.

Hasan believes that he got to meet new people and personally did not have issues handling rejections. However, he believes repeated rejections could take a toll on one’s self-esteem.

“I was very clear that I was not going to let this app control me. I was careful in my approach, and I’m not the kind of person who would reach out to people without a reason.”

However, Zain*, 24, had a very different experience.

“I deleted the app just last week because not only did it take a toll on me, it also made me question the very institution of marriage,” he said.

“I would receive likes, and I connected with two women, but I think the only reason it worked for me was that I kept taking breaks from the app,” he said.

“It’s definitely better than the tea-and-trolley culture, but I also think privilege plays a big role. I was privileged to say no to that tradition, but many women, even in 2024, don’t have that option. Also, knowing how the app works helped a lot. Most women hesitate because they worry about their families finding out. And, honestly, when have we raised our women to have standards? They’re often not equipped to choose a partner for themselves and end up settling for the bare minimum,” he added.

When Muzz was created, the goal wasn’t to eliminate the tea trolley culture but to provide a platform for the Muslim community to connect, allowing people from the same community to meet with the intention of marriage.

“I use this app personally, and we do a lot of education, especially for our female audience. I feel that people on the app lack the basic decency to let others know they’re interested, and it impacts your confidence,” said Aymen Salam, a marketing specialist from Muzz.

Many women on the app have had interesting experiences, including some that resulted in a hit to their self esteem, but most of them seemed happy that they could take matters into their own hands, even though it is difficult either way.

“I am not a big fan of starting over with talking stages every three months. It has taken a toll on me too because men are either unsure of what they’re ‘looking for’ or just there for fun,” said Warda*, 25.

“However, it’s still better than the traditional tea tray routine in my drawing room, with a couple of people judging me from head to toe. At least I have taken matters into my own hands, and if it doesn’t work out, I’m the only one to blame,” she added.

Twenty-eight-year-old Sumaira* is about to marry her Muzz match and shared Warda’s opinion.

“It took me at least a year and a half to find the right guy, but it was a taxing process. I had to talk to multiple people, checking my compatibility with each of them, and sometimes it drained me. The aim is to make it a safe space, and it’s not intended for married men to use, though that does still happen. I feel this issue has more to do with the users themselves than with the app’s operators,” she said.

She explained that pictures of women were hidden until they gave consent for them to be shown. The app also features an in-app complaint system that allows users to report and block profiles. However, these measures are already standard in most apps frequently used by women.

“This isn’t like a profile you’d make on Bumble, which is strictly a dating app. You have to answer real-time questions like, ‘When are you planning to marry?’ These questions aren’t optional — they’re mandatory, so they help start the necessary conversations for finding a partner,” Muzz’s Salam said.

“We cannot completely control who signs up on the platform,” she said when asked how Muzz ensures women are not being catfished or misled. “To address this, we’ve been counselling women to make informed choices by holding sessions with experts and providing one-on-one guidance. That said, how individuals choose to use the app is ultimately beyond our control. Nonetheless, we are planning further initiatives to enhance the safety and protection of our women.”

Currently, there are 10 million active users of the app worldwide, with Pakistan, as part of South Asia — the app’s second-largest market — accounting for 1.5 million active users, according to statistics shared by the marketing specialist.

On the other hand, Dil Ka Rishta, a Pakistan-based app, has three million active profiles, according to statistics displayed on its website. Umar Saif, the former caretaker IT minister of Pakistan and the app’s founder, claimed it was created exclusively for users who are “serious about getting married.”

The crux of these conversations around marriage and matrimonial relationships is that marriage should always be treated as a choice, not as something one must do. Partnership and companionship are very important, but they are only meaningful when a person is ready to handle a relationship.

While the idea that “marriage is a responsibility” is true, it is equally about companionship, which is achieved when individuals take matters into their own hands, taking full responsibility for their actions.