My parents had an arranged marriage, as did so many other people

"My parents had an arranged marriage, as did so many other people when I was growing up. My father came and had a life in the United States one way and my mother had a different one, and I was very aware of those things. I continue to wonder about it, and I will continue to write about it." These words from Jhumpa Lahiri carry with them the weight of deep personal reflection and insight into the cultural divide between generations, identities, and experiences. Lahiri's experience with her parents' arranged marriage represents a unique intersection of tradition and modernity, and in her reflection, she speaks to the dissonance between her parents' respective lives and her own. It is a tension between East and West, between the expectations of family and individuality, and between the old world and the new.

In the ancient world, arranged marriages were the norm. Families viewed marriage as a union between two families rather than two individuals, and the idea of personal choice in a partner was often secondary to the social alliances that marriage could create. The Greek philosopher Plato wrote in his work The Republic that marriage should not be about romantic love, but rather about the welfare of the state. Even in this philosophical treatise, the idea of marrying for duty—for the good of the community or family—was seen as more important than personal desires. Lahiri's reflection on her parents’ arranged marriage places her squarely within this long-standing cultural practice, even as she grapples with the personal complexities that arise from it.

Consider the historical context of arranged marriages in the societies of old. Royal marriages were particularly important in history, as they were not about love, but about securing political alliances, ensuring peace, and solidifying power. One of the most famous examples is the marriage of Cleopatra and Julius Caesar. Cleopatra, the Queen of Egypt, did not marry Caesar out of love but rather to secure her throne and her nation's future. This union, politically motivated, brought together two vastly different cultures—Egyptian and Roman—and changed the course of history. In much the same way, Lahiri’s parents were bound by arranged marriages, each of which carried with it its own set of expectations, values, and challenges. While Cleopatra’s story may seem distant, it illustrates the same theme: that marriage, at its core, is about relationship—but not always in the way we might imagine.

For Jhumpa Lahiri, her awareness of her parents' different lives—her father’s American experience and her mother’s life rooted in their native culture—represents the clash of two worlds. In many ways, Lahiri was caught in the space between these worlds. The tension she describes—of growing up with parents who had deeply different experiences and values—speaks to a universal struggle: the challenge of identity when one is torn between two cultures. The struggle to reconcile conflicting parts of oneself—one's heritage and the world one is thrust into—is a theme that echoes throughout history, from the children of the diaspora to those who live in countries shaped by colonialism. These individuals are often left to navigate two worlds at once, each pulling them in different directions.

In Lahiri's writing, we see the manifestation of these struggles. Her works, like Interpreter of Maladies and The Namesake, explore the complexities of immigration, identity, and belonging—themes that arise when individuals and families cross cultural, geographical, and temporal divides. Her writing doesn’t just reflect her personal experience but invites others who feel torn between cultures to find their own voices. Lahiri’s exploration of arranged marriages, particularly in her own family, is not merely about the customs of marriage but the questions that arise when the boundaries between personal identity, family duty, and cultural expectations become blurred.

Consider the example of Mahatma Gandhi, whose own life was defined by the tension between traditional Indian values and the modern world. Gandhi was born into an arranged marriage, and though he was not always content with it, he learned to reconcile his commitment to family and tradition with his pursuit of social justice and individual freedom. In his life, he sought to blend the wisdom of India’s ancient traditions with the call for social reform in the modern world. Like Gandhi, Lahiri is also engaged in a kind of negotiation between the world her parents knew and the one she inhabits. In doing so, she bridges the generational and cultural divides that exist within her own family.

The lesson here is clear: identity is shaped by the stories we inherit and the worlds we inhabit. Lahiri’s narrative invites us to reflect on the importance of understanding where we come from, even as we build new futures for ourselves. The dissonance she feels between her parents' lives and her own is a universal experience for those who come from places of cultural conflict. Whether through arranged marriages, the pressures of tradition, or the pull of a different world, we must navigate these complexities with awareness, empathy, and patience. In the end, writing—like Lahiri's own work—becomes an important tool for reconciliation, for exploring who we are and where we come from in ways that allow us to move forward.

So, future generations, remember this: as you live in the space between your heritage and the world you create for yourself, do not be afraid to question, explore, and write your own story. Like Lahiri, use the stories of your ancestors and the experiences of your family to craft a path that honors both your past and your future. Understand the ways in which your cultural heritage shapes you, and forge a future that reflects your fullest self—where both the old and new can coexist, and where your personal identity is a blend of all the worlds you inhabit.