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Arranged marriages have long epitomised to the rest of society all that is alien about Asian culture. The notion of consenting to marry a stranger not for reasons of mutual love but because both families deem a union suitable runs counter to every liberal impulse about individual freedom and gender equality. In popular culture, whether films such as East is East or novels such as Brick Lane, arranged marriages are routinely portrayed as ruinous fates to be avoided. Last week's BBC documentary Arrange Me a Marriage - which may lead to a series - was then a potentially subversive slice of TV as it sought to rescue the reputation of arranged marriages.
In the programme Aneela Rahman, a thirtysomething Glaswegian Pakistani, looked for a potential marriage partner for a sceptical white singleton through the traditional approach employed by Asian parents. Selection was based not on such superficial criteria as looks and chemistry but on class, education and income; past relationships that did not satisfy these criteria were dismissed as time wasted.
For those who have not found the mate of their dreams, it is possible to see how arranged marriages might appear appealing. How different is meeting someone arranged by one's family to scouring the internet, or speed-dating, or going on a blind date? Does it matter how you find the one, just so long as you find them in the end? Now there is, of course, a world of difference between arranged marriages and forced marriages; with arranged marriages there is less compulsion, the partners often have the chance to get to know each other, and, increasingly, potential brides have more input. This is welcome progress, but it should not be assumed that the issue of relationships and marriage is not still a vexed issue for British Asians.
Among my single thirtysomething Asian friends - which, tellingly, appears to be most of them - the question of where they are going to find their life partners dominates conversation. The women complain about the dearth of decent Asian men, the men wonder how they will find someone who pleases their family and themselves. One male friend used to claim he was resigned to his first marriage failing. "The first one will be for my folks, what they want," he would say, "and when that falls apart I'll be able to do what I really want."
When it comes to love it is not easy being Asian, particularly if you wish to meet someone who is also Asian, and yet no one I know would contemplate a traditional arranged marriage. This is because today's educated and aspirational British Asians have expectations that arranged marriages are unlikely to fulfil. Their parents' generation elevated money and status above all; these were what a spouse should provide. However, the rise in divorce among Asian couples is evidence of a greater willingness to demand more, and many are now finding new methods by which to meet potential spouses.
I know of one woman who found her fiance on the Asian matrimonial website Shaadi.com, which claims more than 700,000 success stories and filters matches not only by religion, income and education but also by appearance and interests. There has been an explosion of networking evenings; I attended a dinner believing it to be a purely social occasion and was startled to learn it was a "matrimonial banquet". Asians have even refined speed-dating; there are now events that are Muslim-only or specifically for Sikhs or Hindus. This is all evidence of how British Asians increasingly want more: they want love, not only duty, and they are willing to try to find partners on their own terms rather than by the more traditional methods.
Those aspects of the arranged-marriage approach that have the greatest merit are where the whole family feel it is their responsibility to find someone for the children. But this is not an exclusively Asian phenomenon; Jewish friends have related similar tales, as have white British friends. Seeking others' help is one thing, but transferring responsibility is quite another. That is why many of today's British Asians are reclaiming personal responsibility and why they are no longer wedded to a particular formula based on a rigid and outdated set of criteria. Hope and experience have taught them that a simple audit of class, income and education is unlikely to yield Mr or Ms Right: love is chemistry, not calculus.
· Sarfraz Manzoor's book Greetings from Bury Park: Race, Religion and Rock'n'roll will be published in June
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