Would Lalitha Have Married Me in 2024? (A 1991 Love Story in the Age of Swipes / Scrolls)

 #697

In a world that's more connected than ever, we're choosing to unplug from the ultimate partnership: marriage. The Economist's cover story this week, on the global surge in singlehood struck a chord with me, blending fascination with a twinge of nostalgia. From Tokyo's "parasite singles" delaying matrimony into their 30s to New York's ambitious millennials prioritizing careers over covenants, the trend is undeniable. Financial independence has armed us—especially women—with the liberty to opt out of traditional roles. Why tether yourself to a spouse when you can solo-travel to Santorini or build a side hustle empire? Yet, as birth rates plummet from the sustainable 2.1 children per woman to a precarious 1.5 globally—evident in South Korea's fertility crisis and Italy's aging villages—this isn't just a personal pivot; it's a demographic earthquake. Social media amplifies the absurdity: not every swipe right yields a Sydney Sweeney with a six-figure salary, nor a Robert Redford redux. Expectations have ballooned into impossibilities, turning partner hunts into high-stakes auditions.

Economist cover.

This rise feels particularly poignant in diverse landscapes like India, where rural heartlands once mirrored my own 1991 arranged marriage—a simple exchange of family nods and quiet compatibilities. Back then, as a 28-year-old engineer, I greenlit my parents to scout alliances. Dad's colleague mentioned his niece, Lalitha, 50 miles away, fresh from graduation. I laid out my non-negotiables: equality in all things, a shared life built on mutual respect. No grand gestures, just practicality. We met, clicked, and embarked on a journey fueled by one paycheck—mine—that stretched to support dreams deferred. Generations before us thrived this way, unburdened by dual incomes or digital distractions. Lalitha joined the workforce only in 2003, once our children were school-bound, her financial wings clipped not by choice but circumstance. In rural India, where urban gloss was a distant rumor, such norms held sway. But today, with smartphones bridging the chasm, even villagers dream of cosmopolitan bliss—expecting not just love, but lifestyle upgrades that apps like Instagram peddle relentlessly.

Shravan, Eshwar, Radha, Sangeetha (Shravan Wedding 2022 Dec).

Fast-forward to 2024: If I were 28 again, and Lalitha 23, would our paths converge? My gut roars a resounding yes. We weren't digital natives, but our core script—study hard, earn steadily, marry thoughtfully, savor the fruits—transcends timelines. It's the blueprint we etched for our kids, who echo it with modern tweaks: later weddings, extended courtships via apps, yet the same hunger for partnership. Values like resilience and example-setting aren't eroded by algorithms; they're inherited. I validate this optimism wholeheartedly—it's a testament to human constancy amid flux. In my view, the singlehood surge isn't rebellion but refinement; people aren't rejecting love, just its outdated packaging. Financial autonomy, especially for women juggling careers, motherhood, and selfhood, isn't apathy—it's agency. Why commit to a co-pilot if you've mastered solo flight? This empowers deeper connections when they do form, unmarred by economic desperation.

Yet, let's not romanticize the solo life uncritically. A counter-narrative whispers that singlehood's glow dims over time. Studies from the U.S. General Social Survey show married folks often report higher life satisfaction, buoyed by companionship's buffer against loneliness epidemics—now a global health crisis, per the WHO. In Japan, where over 40% of adults under 50 are single, "kodoku-shi" (lonely deaths) haunt the headlines, underscoring isolation's toll. And while women cite triple burdens (work, wife, mom) as deterrents, men grapple too—evolving gender roles leave them adrift, unsure if chivalry or equality is the ask. Social media's highlight reels breed dissatisfaction, sure, but they also democratize choice, letting rural Indians veto mismatches their parents once enforced. The real rub? Population dips threaten pensions and innovation pipelines. Solutions? Perhaps policy tweaks like Sweden's parental leave equity or Singapore's matchmaking subsidies, proving societies can nudge without nagging.

Peering further, I foresee a hybrid horizon: singles entwined with AI confidants—virtual therapists outpacing flesh-and-blood vows. Intimacy? Outsourced to apps or managed clinically, stripping sex of its messy joy. This apathy to matrimony echoes Freud's riddles: "What does a woman want?" or, more timelessly, what defines partnership in flux? No pat answers, but evolution offers clues. My era's single-income grit birthed stability; today's dual freedoms could forge equitable unions, if we recalibrate expectations from perfection to presence.

Ultimately, singlehood's ascent isn't apocalypse—it's adaptation. Lalitha's and my story endures not despite change, but because of timeless truths: love blooms in equality, not excess. For my global kin—from Mumbai's metros to Manhattan's lofts—embrace the solo chapter, but leave room for the duet. After all, the heart's algorithm favors connection, glitches and all.

Comments? Karthik

9/11/25. (Boy 36 years; the fall of Berlin Wall.... Thank you Mr Gorbachev.).....

Shravan @ Checkpoint Charlie 2018, I visited 1994. (Got to digout picture)!!!