“Matchmaker,
Matchmaker,
Make me a
match,
Find me a
find,
catch me a
catch.
Matchmaker,
Matchmaker
Look through
your book,
And make me
a perfect match…
…….Matchmaker,
Matchmaker,
Plan me no
plans
I'm in no
rush
Maybe I've
learned
Playing with
matches
A girl can
get burned
So,
Bring me no
ring
Groom me no
groom
Find me no
find
Catch me no
catch
Unless he's
a matchless match.”
“Tradition”,
the word describes what has stood the flow of time and the test of generations.
I guess one would understand what I refer to. Indeed the institution called
marriage and in Indianised Anglican phrase-“arranged marriage”. Call it
match making too!
Though I may
be seen as a votary of anti-match making because I was recalcitrant and did not heed to the traditional
way of match making when it mattered to me personally. I do endorse the values and the meticulous processes that lead up to an eventual betrothal. For, one
cannot deny the fact that wedlock is not merely an affair between the groom and
the bride, man and woman but it is essentially a liaison between families. This
is where family values, integrity, and respectability come to play and lack of
it is fraught with unpleasantness that is sure to visit at a much later date
well after marriage. I emphasise this to my kids and I do not know if someone
can convince me to the contrary.
I was
instrumental in the initial discussions that preluded a couple of wedlock and,
now, an impending one.
I was shockingly
fascinated when I realised recently a gaffe, some twenty and eight years ago
when I discussed briefly with my then brother-in –law to be, the proposal for
my sister’s hand in marriage. His parents took over the formal matters after my
meeting with him. But I realize now, and after all these many years that I (we)
may not have asked my sister whether she approved of the match making. Wasn’t it
quite impertinent to presume? It is too late to ask her now! Perhaps I must
remind him now the gaffe. Sure it is humorous to think about.
A match
making that later proved to be a toss-up between spite and or the facilitation
of relationship between two mutually malefic couple, took place some twenty two
years ago. I was by virtue of marriage related to the man. His parents assigned
me as the only male member worthy of initiating discussion with the prospective
bride and family. I took up the matter and had to persuade him to accept her
proposal as he was quite nervy about his parent’s opinion about the bride and her
family. I had to usher a quality that was nonexistent in me-“persuasion” and it
worked. I now may be persona non grata in their social list and, as for me,
I do appreciate to be distanced from them is an ironical matter.
It will be
amusing if I mention now to my brother-in-law, my forgetfulness in not asking
his wife (my sister) if she agreed for the match making. Because now, I just
concluded the ground work or call it research about the groom for their daughter
(my niece).I flew to Abu Dhabhi to meet and chat with the boy before
endorsing him from my side to be-“the suitable boy”.
Now, did I
remember to ask the girl if she approves of this match making.
".... Find me no find
Catch me no catch
Unless he's a matchless match.”