— ✍️Sachin Anand Tupere

A few months ago, I was sitting with a friend while his family scrolled through profiles on a matrimonial app. Education, salary, height everything seemed negotiable. But one filter never changed: caste. It wasn’t even debated. It was simply understood.

This is how caste endogamy works in India today. It doesn’t always appear as open discrimination or loud assertion. Often, it operates quietly, through routine decisions that feel normal, practical, even caring. Arranged marriage is one of the most important spaces where this happens.

We are used to hearing that arranged marriages are about compatibility, shared values, and family involvement. Many people genuinely experience them that way. But if we look a little closer, we see that “compatibility” is rarely neutral. It is usually shaped by caste, class, and community expectations. The idea of a “suitable match” often already assumes that the person must belong to the same social world.

B. R. Ambedkar had pointed this out long ago. He argued that caste survives because of endogamy, because people marry within their caste. Without that boundary, the system would begin to fall apart. What he said nearly a century ago still feels uncomfortably relevant. We may not talk about caste openly all the time, but we continue to organise our most intimate decisions around it.

Families play a central role here. In arranged marriages, they are not just facilitators; they are gatekeepers. They decide which profiles are worth considering and which are not. Sometimes this is done gently, through suggestions and persuasion. Other times, it is more direct. Either way, the outcome is often the same: the circle remains closed.

Sociologist M. N. Srinivas once wrote about how caste adapts rather than disappears. That feels visible today. The tools have changed- matrimonial websites, WhatsApp groups, biodata PDFs- but the logic remains familiar. You can now filter potential partners with a click, making it easier than ever to stay within caste boundaries without ever having to say it out loud.

At the same time, these practices are deeply tied to ideas about family, honour, and security. Many parents believe they are acting in their children’s best interests. They worry about social acceptance, cultural differences, and long-term stability. These concerns are real, but they also reveal how strongly caste continues to shape our sense of belonging.

The burden of maintaining these boundaries is not shared equally. Women, in particular, are often expected to carry the responsibility of upholding family and caste norms. Choices around marriage can become sites of pressure, sometimes subtle, sometimes overwhelming. When these expectations are challenged, the consequences can be harsh, ranging from emotional isolation to, in extreme cases, violence.

None of this means that every arranged marriage is unhappy or forced. Many people find companionship and support within them. But that doesn’t change the larger pattern. When most marriages continue to happen within the same caste, generation after generation, it has consequences beyond individual lives.

It affects who has access to networks, resources, and opportunities. It shapes how wealth and advantage are passed on. It quietly limits the possibility of social mixing and mobility. Over time, these patterns reinforce the same inequalities we often claim to be moving beyond.

What makes this difficult to confront is how ordinary it all feels. There is no single moment where caste is imposed; it is reproduced through a series of small, familiar choices. That is why it rarely gets questioned. It is woven into what we call tradition.

But traditions are not static. They are made and remade by people. If arranged marriage continues to centre caste as a basic requirement, it is worth asking what exactly we are preserving and at whose cost.

Perhaps the conversation does not need to begin with rejecting arranged marriages altogether. It can start with something simpler: being honest about the role caste plays in them. Questioning why it matters so much. Making space for choices that move beyond it.

Because caste endogamy does not sustain itself automatically. It survives because, every day, in living rooms and on phone screens, we continue to choose it, often without even realising we have a choice.

- Sachin Anand Tupere is a Research Scholar, Poet, and Ambedkarite Activist.