The Evolution of Choosing the "Right" Life Partner: 1990 to Beyond*

Choosing a life partner probably has always felt like trying to navigate through a foggy road with a map that's missing half the directions. Over the years, from the early 90s to today, our methods of choosing that special someone have evolved—perhaps even mutated—thanks to technology, social norms, and a hefty dose of confusion. Let’s take a light-hearted stroll through these decades, where you might find that love, in all its forms, has only gotten stranger, but no less fascinating.

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1990s: The Age of “Family First”

In the 90s everything seemed so much simpler. Well, sort of. In Britain, chances were high that you’d meet your future spouse in a cozy pub, perhaps over a pint while arguing about which football club had the best shot at the Premier League. Across the Atlantic, Americans were falling in love over coffee and pie in diners, all while channeling their inner 'When Harry Met Sally' fantasies. Life was straightforward; so was love, or at least that's what people told themselves.

In Latin America, romance came with a side of family. Courtship, or El Noviazgo, involved entire households. Sly glances, subtle gestures—always under the watchful eye of parents and relatives—kept things proper, or at least publicly so.

India, meanwhile, was still dominated by arranged marriages. Matrimonial ads in the newspapers read like shopping lists: “Wanted: Educated, fair-skinned bride from a respectable family. Must know how to cook.” And thus, the great Indian matchmaking machine kept churning, parents at the helm.

Over in China, where respect for elders and family was paramount, love followed a predictable, arranged path. Matchmakers still held the reins, and woe betide anyone who dared to veer from tradition. Meanwhile, in Japan, Omiai meetings (formal introductions for marriage) were a regular feature, though hints of rebellion toward love marriages were beginning to stir.

Metaphor of the Era: Choosing a partner in the 90s was like ordering a meal from a set menu—limited options, but you trusted it to be good for you. Your parents did, anyway.

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2000s: The Dawn of Digital Romance

Welcome to the 2000s, where technology awkwardly knocked on the doors of courtship. In the UK and US, Match.com made its debut, where suddenly, browsing potential partners online felt as groundbreaking as the invention of sliced bread. Pubs and bars still held strong, but if you had a dial-up connection, you were possibly flirting through email.

In the Hispanic world, the rise of online communities was starting, though Telenovelas still had an unshakable grip on people’s notions of love—passionate, dramatic, and full of unspoken family feuds. Family remained a steady influence, but digital flirtations began to creep into courtships.

In India, websites like Shaadi.com and BharatMatrimony opened the floodgates for matrimonial match-making. Families clung to their tried-and-true criteria of caste and education, but now with the exciting addition of “online profiles.” The phone call with potential in-laws began with, “I saw your profile online,” which was both terrifying and thrilling.

China, though dipping its toes into the online pool, held firm to the matchmaking tradition. Even so, a few brave souls dared to venture into chat rooms to find love. In Japan, the rise of gōkon (group dating parties) and dating cafes ushered in a slightly more relaxed approach. Dating websites quietly began to emerge like timid cherry blossoms.

Metaphor of the Era: Dating in the 2000s was like upgrading to an early-model smartphone: a few new features, but you still couldn’t shake the old habits.

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2010s: Swipe Right and Step into Chaos

The 2010s will forever be known as the “Swipe Right” decade. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge—you name it, they took the romantic wheel and drove it straight into a world where “the one” was a mere swipe away. In the UK and US, casual dating turned into a well-oiled machine, where pub meetups were swiftly replaced by app notifications: You’ve got a match!

Across Latin America, mobile dating apps made their way into daily life, though the backdrop of traditional values remained. Couples juggled between tradition and modernity, with a quick prayer for Telenovela-worthy love sprinkled in.

India was now juggling between parental pressure and the growing independence of the Tinder generation. By this time, Shaadi.com had found itself competing with Bumble, and “modern” Indian parents started using matrimonial apps with the same fervor as their children used dating apps.

China saw the explosion of dating apps, but also the rise of “marriage markets,” where parents advertised their children’s eligibility in parks—because nothing says modern love like your mom waving a sign that reads: PhD. Seeks wife. In Japan, career-driven singles embraced online dating with open arms, blending tradition with efficiency, as is the Japanese way.

Metaphor of the Era: Dating became like ordering sushi from a conveyor belt—you just hoped your choice wasn’t already taken by the next swipe.

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2020s: Welcome to Algorithmic Love

By the 2020s, love was no longer in the hands of Cupid but rather the hands of an algorithm. Apps claimed they knew what you wanted in a partner better than you did. Compatibility tests, swipe patterns, and even your music playlist were all fed into the digital matchmaking beast.

In Britain and America, couples joked that their dating profiles were now more comprehensive than their CVs. In Latin America, the Catholic Church still blessed relationships, but a swipe to the left was far easier than finding a confession booth.

In India, families started to accept the digital revolution. Tinder profiles that mentioned “family values” were trending, and Shaadi.com now featured sections like “Lifestyle and Horoscope,” to balance millennial independence with ancestral wisdom.

China, ever pragmatic, perfected the art of digital love, while still holding fast to marriage markets and familial involvement. And in Japan, “solo weddings” (where women marry themselves) were on the rise—a testament to the complexity of modern relationships.

Metaphor of the Era: Finding a partner in the 2020s was like asking Google for restaurant recommendations—you didn’t always know what you wanted, but you trusted the algorithm to figure it out.

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2030s and Beyond: The Future of Love

The unpredictable future. But we can always extrapolate. Financial advisers do it all the time, so who can stop me? Here's what I think may happen.

In 2030, selecting a partner will likely involve virtual reality dates where you and your potential mate are AI-curated based on everything from genetic compatibility to shared Netflix preferences.

In the UK and US, holographic dates over dinner will be all the rage, where the awkward first-date silence is filled by an AI assistant whispering fun facts into your ear about your partner's favorite hobbies.

Latin America might see AI matchmakers who analyze your family tree for compatible marriages, ensuring both love and family approval.

In India, matrimonial apps may partner with astrologers, offering real-time horoscope updates based on planetary shifts during your chat.

China, with its obsession for efficiency, might introduce state-sponsored AI matchmaking services—where romance meets bureaucracy. And Japan? Expect robot companions in the dating market, where they’ll make ideal partners for the workaholic crowd.

Metaphor of the Future: Dating in 2030 will be like selecting a partner via Amazon Prime—complete with one-day shipping and easy returns.

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There you have it, from arranged marriages to algorithmic matches and beyond. Yes, we’ve come a long way, but no matter how much technology advances, the real challenge remains the same: love, like life, still remains unpredictable.

-- Pradeep K (Prady)

* This post is based on my own observations, but other people's experiences ;-)

The Dam of Shamelessness

"The rivers of shame can only be blocked by the dam of shamelessness!"

—Pradeep K (Prady)

Yes, I quoted myself. That's how shameless I am.

Shame: a word that sends shivers down the spine of anyone who's ever encountered a nosey neighbor, a judgmental aunt, or even a slightly overenthusiastic colleague. Whether it's something as simple as forgetting to mute yourself during an important Zoom meeting or as profound as being caught in a public embarrassment, shame has always had its way with us. But what if I told you that there's a secret weapon against shame, a hidden treasure of human resilience that has been passed down, albeit quietly, through the generations?

The answer lies in shamelessness—not just any shamelessness, mind you, but a refined, dignified shamelessness that helps you weather the raging floods of societal judgment. It’s a strategy, nay, an art form that few have mastered, and fewer still have recognized for its true value.

Think of the average Indian wedding, as a case in point. It’s not just a marriage between two people; it’s a celebration where everyone’s insecurities and embarrassments come to light. Aunties will shamelessly ask newlyweds the question that has plagued the ages: "When will you give us good news?" Well, obviously this is not a request for a weather update.

Yet, the veteran bride or groom knows this: the only way to survive such moments is to build your own dam of shamelessness. Smile, deflect, move on. Without it, you’d drown in the rivers of shame, with every awkward laugh or uncomfortable question adding to the tide.

Of course, a bigger monster looming in our lives since time immemorial—a particularly Indian affliction—is the eternal question: "What will people say?" Uncle Ramesh buys a bright yellow car? "What will people say?" A cousin takes up pottery instead of engineering? "What will people say?" You're still single at 30? "What will people say?!"

Let me tell you, people will always say something. If you keep trying to control the flow of their opinions, you'll be flooded with shame until you can barely keep your head above water.

Enter the dam of shamelessness. In this case, it takes the form of proudly showing off your yellow car, inviting the whole extended family to your pottery class, or even announcing your singlehood as if it were a personal badge of honor.

No river can erode a dam built of confidence, humor, and a generous dose of "I don’t care."

But it’s not just in India where the power of shamelessness shines. Whether you're in Mumbai or Manhattan, shame takes on many forms, but the key to blocking it remains the same. Take any celebrity scandal—there’s a scandal, a social media uproar and then, like clockwork, comes the strategic post: "I’m learning and growing, thank you for your patience." You see, while ordinary folk like us might retreat into hiding after a public misstep, celebrities have their own blueprint: construct a dam. Let the criticisms flow around it, while you sit, dry as a bone, sipping coffee and waiting for the tide to recede.

Jokes apart, shamelessness is, in some ways, a survival mechanism in today’s hyper-connected, hyper-judgmental world. With social media platforms turning everyone into instant judges, the rivers of shame flow faster and heavier than ever before. A poorly worded tweet, a fashion embarrassment at the wrong event, a harmless mistake blown out of proportion—all are common causes for public shaming. But the secret to surviving it? Learn the fine art of laughing at yourself before anyone else gets the chance.

Imagine you post an ill-advised picture of yourself in mismatched clothes, and the comments section starts to fill up with merciless ridicule. Now, you have two choices—either let the river sweep you away or construct the dam of shamelessness by replying, "I was clearly too ahead of fashion trends. You'll catch up someday!" The tide recedes, the critics move on, and you, my friend, have blocked the river like a pro.

Whether it's nosy relatives, social media mobs, or the inner critic that lives rent-free in your head, remember: you control the dam. Sometimes, the best thing to do is to simply let the waters flow, unbothered, around the fortress you've built.

And when people ask you how you stay so dry amid the floods of judgment and shame, you can always smile, nod knowingly, and say, "Oh, it’s simple. I just built a dam."

-- Pradeep K (Prady)

Earth Isn't a Place for Humans

Step right up to the Human Zoo, where the admission is free, but the exit fee might just be your sanity! Here, on display in their natural habitat, we have the most peculiar species on Earth: humans. Forget exotic animals—these creatures are endlessly fascinating. From their bizarre mating rituals (ever heard of dating apps?) to their survival instincts that involve ignoring the expiry dates on yogurt, humans are nature’s finest comedians.

Take, for example, the grocery store safari. What was meant to be a five-minute milk run quickly escalates into an endurance race, complete with shopping cart jousting and the eternal struggle to find the perfectly ripe avocado—only to give up and grab a bag of chips instead. And don’t even get me started on group projects, where teamwork often resembles a chaotic game of “Who Can Do the Least.”

So, buckle up and grab some popcorn, because navigating the absurdities of human life is always a wild ride. You won’t find this level of comedy on Netflix, I promise.

While humans do excel at inventing things to make life easier, sometimes these innovations lead us straight into a comedy of errors. We've all seen those inventions that seem brilliant at first, only to leave us scratching our heads. Take, for example, the electric shoe polishers you see in hotels. They seem like a great idea until you realize that most people still prefer the old-school method with a brush and polish tin.

Then there are the tech gadgets that make you question whether anyone bothered to test them before selling them to the public. Who can forget that infamous "smart" water purifier that kept sending alerts to your phone every time someone drank water? Yes, because in a country where water scarcity is a real issue, what we really need is a daily reminder of how often we sip from our own bottles.

And let’s not forget the hilarious product reviews on shopping sites. You know the ones—where enthusiastic customers rave about their new "automatic chapati maker," only to find out it produces something closer to frisbees than fluffy rotis. Human creativity is boundless, but practicality sometimes takes the scenic route.

Speaking of the scenic route, our outdoor adventures often become tales of comedic disaster. For example, camping should come with a giant disclaimer—“Proceed with caution: May result in unexpected disasters and regretful memories.” Sure, we all love the romantic idea of sitting by a campfire, roasting marshmallows, and gazing at the stars, but reality often turns that dream into a comedy of errors.

Consider the case of Rajesh, who confidently went camping with his friends, only to realize he had no idea how to pitch a tent. Spoiler alert: by the end of the night, his tent resembled more of a collapsed lung than a cozy shelter, and he found himself huddled under a tree, shivering through the night. Then there’s Priya, who decided to bring her culinary skills to the great outdoors—only to discover that neither wild animals nor her fellow campers were particularly fond of her gourmet paneer tikka that got scorched over an uneven campfire.

And let’s not forget the endless debate between traditional camping and its luxurious cousin, glamping. Glamping is essentially for those who enjoy the idea of being in nature—as long as nature includes Wi-Fi, air conditioning, and a plush bed. Why rough it in the wild when you can experience the great outdoors from the comfort of an air-conditioned tent with all the amenities of a 5-star hotel?

Maybe it’s time we reconsider traditional camping altogether for the safety of everyone involved—or at least require a crash course on how not to trip over your own tent stakes while trying to show off your "survival skills." After all, nature is stunning on its own; it doesn’t need our slapstick comedy routines to make it more entertaining.

And as we bumble through our everyday human experiences, Mother Nature seems to be laughing along with us. When it comes to nature, humans are about as competent as that friend who adopts a pet, only to realize they can’t even keep a cactus alive. You know the type—excited about the idea of turning their desk into a lush jungle, but panicking when the office plant starts to droop. Spoiler alert: it’s usually because they forgot plants need water.

Take the office plant saga, for example. We bring these poor things into our fluorescent-lit cubicles with dreams of creating a mini rainforest, only to watch as they slowly wither away, probably from boredom. It's not that we lack good intentions—just the skill set to match. And then there’s that one time you got ambitious and tried growing herbs on your windowsill. Remember the hopeful basil that turned into a crispy relic of your gardening ambitions? Yeah, that didn’t end well.

And weekends? Oh, they’re our chance to tackle the wilds of our backyards. Armed with optimism and a rusty trowel from last year’s garage sale, we march into battle with Mother Nature. A few hours later, we stagger back inside, covered in dirt, sweat, and a deep sense of regret, realizing that planting isn’t just tossing seeds around and waiting for magic.

So, while our thumbs may not be as green as we’d like, at least we can laugh about our gardening disasters. And hey, if that office plant is still hanging in there despite us, maybe there’s hope after all.

But then, welcome to the comedy club of climate change, where Mother Nature has decided to showcase her own stand-up routine with every unexpected weather twist! While we humans fret over melting glaciers and rising pollution levels, the Earth seems to be sitting back with a grin, saying, "Oh, you thought you were in control? Watch this!"

Take India's infamous monsoon season, for example. Ever noticed how it rains exactly when you least expect it—right in the middle of a hockey match or just when you’ve left home without an umbrella? It’s as if nature is playfully reminding us, “Nice try planning your day around the weather, but I’m still in charge!”

And what about those random weather surprises? One moment, you’re basking in cool winter mornings, and the next, you're sweating through an unexpected heatwave in December. Or better yet, that bizarre summer hailstorm that turns your front yard into a mini snowfield, leaving everyone scratching their heads. It's as if the environment is playing its own prank on us, just to keep things interesting.

But perhaps Mother Nature's favorite joke is when she throws in those unpredictable twists—like flooding the streets the minute after you've washed your car, or sending a gust of wind just as you hang your freshly laundered clothes out to dry. So, the next time you find yourself grumbling about the erratic weather or unexpected climate events, remember—nature’s just having a laugh. Maybe it's time we joined in on the fun too!

Well, as we fumble through our misadventures, there’s another species that might be observing us from afar—aliens. If they exist, they’re probably steering clear of Earth, and who can blame them? After all, have you seen our reality shows and social media challenges? If I were an alien cruising through the galaxy in my high-tech spaceship, I'd hit the warp drive the moment I picked up signals from Bigg Boss or the latest bizarre trend on Instagram.

Imagine this: a group of aliens gathered around their galactic travel guide. They flip to the section on Earth and see a chapter titled, "UFO Sightings and Other Human Oddities." The first line reads, "Humans claim they've spotted us—what they actually saw was their neighbor flying a kite too close to a drone." Cue the extraterrestrial laughter! Alien humor must really be out of this world, but they’d probably get a kick out of our confusion.

Add I that the general chaos on our planet. From climate debates that resemble a poorly written soap opera to viral challenges that involve people doing dangerous stunts for likes, it’s no wonder the aliens are giving us a hard pass. They’re probably thinking, “Why risk landing on a planet where people willingly eat chili powder just for views?” So the next time you spot a suspicious light in the sky or think you've seen a UFO, it might just be an alien making a swift exit from our global circus!

At the cosmic level, it's clear that Earth isn’t exactly the poster child for harmonious living. From our hilarious misadventures with nature to our questionable innovations and cringe-worthy reality shows, we humans seem to have perfected the art of chaos. But hey, that’s what makes life on this little blue planet so entertaining, right?

Let’s wholeheartedly accept our cosmic misplacement and learn to laugh at the absurdity of it all. After all, humor is the one thing that keeps us grounded—or at least stops us from pulling our hair out when nature strikes back or when our camping trips go hilariously wrong. And who knows? If things get too wild, there’s always Nebulon-5*, a place where the grass might actually be greener, and the aliens might just welcome us with open tentacles.



* Nebulon-5: A peaceful, civilized haven in the Milky Way, home to three distinct planetary life forms, and now offering open tickets for earthlings. Cosmic coordinates available upon request—just ask in the comments.


-- Pradeep K (Prady)

The Happiness Hustle: Unmasking the Great Contentment Con

(Satire alert)


In a land not so far away, nestled between the Mountains of Misery and the River of Routine, there lay the Kingdom of Contentment. Or so it was called, though few who lived there could claim to have ever seen this elusive state. The citizens of this kingdom were like the rest of us: busy, bewildered, and forever on the brink of a nervous breakdown, despite the kingdom's promising name.

In truth, Contentment was a place of constant turmoil. You see, the King—let’s call him King Perpetua—had long declared that happiness was the birthright of every citizen. Naturally, this decree set off a chain of events that plunged the kingdom into perpetual discontent. For when happiness is promised, it becomes an obsession, a quest, and ultimately, a commodity.

Enter the alchemists. These weren't the traditional alchemists who busied themselves with turning lead into gold. No, these were the Alchemists of Happiness, the self-proclaimed purveyors of eternal bliss. They roamed the kingdom in brightly colored caravans, each more garish than the last, peddling their wares to the desperate masses. Their potions came in a variety of flavors: "The 10-Step Elixir to Joy," "Gratitude Tonic," and "Mindfulness Mead," each promising to unlock the secrets of perpetual happiness.

Of course, these potions were nothing more than cleverly marketed mixtures of snake oil and wishful thinking. But the citizens, forever in search of that elusive contentment, lined up to purchase them with the fervor of pilgrims seeking salvation. Each morning, they would gather in the marketplace, clutching their gold coins, ready to trade their hard-earned wealth for a vial of hope.

And hope, it seemed, was always just one vial away.

In the royal court, King Perpetua watched with a mixture of amusement and concern. He had long ago discovered that the quest for happiness was the most effective way to keep his subjects distracted from the more pressing issues of governance. So, rather than curb the activities of the alchemists, he quietly endorsed them, granting licenses to those who promised the most outlandish results.

But as the years passed, something peculiar began to happen. The citizens, having tried every potion, attended every seminar, and read every scroll on the subject, started to grow weary. They had followed every alchemist’s advice to the letter, and yet happiness remained as elusive as ever.

It was then that a new figure appeared on the scene: a mysterious stranger known only as The Sage of Enough. Unlike the alchemists, The Sage carried no potions, no scrolls, no step-by-step guides. Instead, he wandered the streets with nothing but a simple question: "What if happiness isn’t something to be found, but something to be let go?"

Naturally, this approach was met with skepticism. After all, the alchemists had taught the citizens that happiness was a prize to be pursued, a destination at the end of a long and arduous journey. The idea that it might be something simpler—something already within them—was as shocking as it was heretical.

Yet, despite their doubts, the citizens began to listen. Slowly, they realized that the relentless pursuit of happiness had been their undoing. They had become so fixated on the idea of finding it that they had forgotten to live it. The more they chased after it, the further it seemed to slip from their grasp.

The Sage’s teachings spread throughout the kingdom, much to the dismay of the alchemists. Their caravans, once overflowing with customers, began to dwindle. The citizens, it seemed, were starting to understand that happiness wasn’t a potion to be bought or a secret to be unlocked. It was something much simpler—a byproduct of living, rather than the goal.

And so, the Kingdom of Contentment began to change. The citizens still gathered in the marketplace, but now they came not to buy, but to share. Stories, laughter, and the occasional loaf of bread were exchanged, and the alchemists, now out of business, took up new trades—bakers, blacksmiths, and the like.

King Perpetua, for his part, was relieved. His kingdom was finally living up to its name, though not in the way he had expected. The pursuit of happiness had ended, not with a grand discovery, but with a quiet acceptance. Contentment, it turned out, wasn’t something to be chased. It was something to be realized, often when one least expected it.

And so, life went on in the Kingdom of Contentment, where happiness was no longer an obsession, but a quiet companion—always present, if only one stopped long enough to notice.

-- Pradeep K (Prady)