Classified Ads

Not long ago, I picked up a copy of an Indian-American newspaper after dinner at one of our standby Indian restaurants (House of India). Back at home, I skimmed the articles about Indian diplomats visiting New York, read one about a 13-year-old environmental activist addressing the UN, and rolled my eyes at the Bollywood gossip column. All pretty standard stuff for a New York-based publication aimed at this audience.

And then I came to the classifieds. These are not about selling cars and looking for apartments; these are personal ads, desi-style. Here's a typical sample:



There was a section for males, too; I found the one at the top of this photo particularly interesting because of the age of the advertsier and the outright mention of divorce:



The one in the middle of this photo might be my favorite, because it makes me imagine the writing process. Were the parents huddled over a kitchen table, debating the veracity of their claim of "outstanding personality"? Was the guy there, insisting that he be referred to as "extremely handsome"?



The ads made me think of my brief, entertaining, unsuccessful foray into picking dates from ads. I tried to picture myself meeting those guys (who, by the way, did not comply with truth in advertising standards) for the sole purpose of seeing if I might want to marry them. I couldn't; it's too much of a leap for me, even though I understand and respect the traditions of arranged marriage and matrimony by classified ad.