In recent years, in rural and semi-rural settings, the role of the traditional rishta aunty has been overshadowed by a growing influx of unregulated male brokers, who operate without accountability. These brokers exploit the breakdown of traditional communal bonds, preying on vulnerable families who are often desperate to find suitable matches for their children. They leverage social pressure and cultural expectations around marriage to deceive and manipulate.
As they accept money from one party to conceal or manipulate crucial information, it leads to misinformation about potential partners and critical aspects such as financial status, character or even personal history.
This betrayal of trust leaves families, particularly from less privileged backgrounds, entangled in fraudulent marriages that cause lasting emotional and financial distress. The rise of these unscrupulous brokers is symptomatic of broader societal shifts—diminished communal ties and an increased focus on individual gain.
In the murky world of unregulated matchmaking, these unlicensed brokers, or matchmakers, operate with a disturbing level of impunity. Matchmaking is not just a side hustle but their full-time occupation. Unlike formal marriage bureaus, these brokers lack an official spacce or establishment and function as mobile offices, accessible to clients on a whim.
These brokers who are predominantly men, typically aged between 30 and 65 years, excel in communication and are likely to be found in parks, cafes, restaurants, salons, and various local shops. Their primary tool is an impressive array of fabricated success stories designed to lure clients into their schemes. Each day, they leave their homes early, driven by the pursuit of new clients. Their goal is simple: to identify and ensnare individuals who will yield the highest profits.
A senior broker often oversees a network of junior brokers tasked with finding and introducing new clients, for minimal earnings. Typically, a senior broker manages four to five junior brokers, each of whom receives only a small percentage of the profits, leaving them with little power or financial reward.
The betrayed shopkeeper
Few stories capture the devastating impact of fraud as vividly as that of *Haleem Khan, a 55-year-old shopkeeper from Islamabad who sought the help of a marriage broker to find a suitable partner. He paid Rs 300,000 as a commitment fee for a young bride from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Before the marriage had even been consummated, the next morning, the bride claimed a family emergency and left, taking the gold Khan had gifted her. She never returned and later filed for khula. Khan was devastated to learn that the broker and the bride’s brother were part of a larger fraud scheme. "They exploited my search for a genuine connection," he laments, "leaving me with a broken heart and significant financial loss." Khan filed an FIR against the broker, the bride, and her brother under sections 420 and 496 of Pakistan’s penal code for cheating and marriage fraud. Despite the betrayal, he remains hopeful, determined to seek justice and hold those responsible accountable.
The cost of fraud
*Zafar Ali, a 57-year-old headmaster nearing retirement, was convinced by a broker to pay Rs 250,000 for a new marriage, despite already having a successful career and a loving family. Initially shown a woman who seemed perfect, Ali was later told she married someone else— it was all a ruse to gain his trust. The broker then demanded another Rs 150,000 and arranged a legal nikah with a 30-year-old woman. However, the day after the wedding, the bride insisted on visiting her parental home. When Zafar declined, her mother involved the police, claiming captivity. Forced to let them leave, Ali never saw his bride again. The broker disappeared with the marriage documents, leaving him without proof. Despite numerous attempts to contact the broker, Ali only received empty promises. "I don’t want money," he says. "I want my wife back." However, without proof of marriage, he's avoiding legal action to prevent public humiliation, while the broker continues to prey on others.
Not all victims stay calm; some react violently to the deceit they suffer due to matchmakers. *Guhram Ali, 43, now imprisoned with his brother and cousin, recounted the events that led to his drastic actions. Seeking help from a trusted matchmaker for a second marriage, *Guhram was introduced to a 29-year-old woman named Fatima, allegedly displaced by floods. Convinced of her legitimacy, he married her, lavishing her with gold and financial support.
A month later, Fatima’s brother called, asking to meet outside the city. When Guhram returned after briefly stepping away, both Fatima and her brother had vanished, their phones off, and their supposed house vacated. Desperate, Guhram confronted the broker, who eventually admitted to being part of the scam, offering to return the money. But for Guhram, it wasn’t about the money—it was about honour. Feeling deeply dishonored, he and his relatives confronted the broker in a fit of rage, leading to the broker’s death. Now facing murder charges, Guhram reflects, “My family is still searching for Fatima, but I have no regrets. It was a matter of honour for me, my family, and my caste.”
Inter-provincial racket
*Samina, 29, shares that she and the other girls, aged between 20 and 23, were promised legitimate marriages. The broker took Rs250,000 per girl as an advance payment, claiming this amount would cover the marriage expenses.
For a period, Samina and the other girls lived with the broker’s family, only to be transferred to a broker in Sindh. The Sindh broker paid Rs300,000 rupees for each girl to the Punjab broker and subsequently sold them for a higher price—between Rs500,000 and 600,000 rupees—to older and already married men. The additional amount was pocketed as profit by the Sindh broker.
One of the girls, however, managed to escape the situation and filed a case against her husband and the broker. Thanks to her courage and the subsequent police action, the broker was arrested, though he later fled the city.
“I have accepted my fate and am grateful for my children, but I do not like my husband,” says Samina. “I was poor, and felt I had no choice but to accept.” Now, she lives with a man in his sixties, while she is only in her late twenties.
Humiliating deception
Several years ago, *Saleemullah, 33, sought a bride through a broker who promised a match with a respectable but financially struggling family. After meeting the girl and her family, he agreed to pay a significant sum. However, shock and anger erupted when the bride arrived and was revealed to be a transgender individual who the family rejected and threw out.
The matter was taken to a local jirga, where Saleemullah’s family presented evidence of fraud. The bride’s family, however, claimed they had provided a woman for marriage and accused his side of wrongdoing, even alleging murder. The jirga demanded the transgender individual be produced for verification, but Saleemullah’s family had already expelled the person. Despite the clear deception, the local feudal lord, a politician, avoided making a definitive ruling, instead pressuring the bride’s family and broker to return the money Saleemullah had paid, leaving the issue unresolved.
"Now, people use my story as a cautionary tale, warning others to be cautious about bringing a bride home," Saleemullah laments. "The jokes and mockery have turned my pain into public entertainment."
Playing on trust
*Kafeel Ahmed, a 63-year-old retired government employee from Karachi, trusted Farooque, a matchmaker from his hometown, to find a suitable match for his elder daughter, Zunaira. “I had known Farooque for years. He was fully aware of our family’s modest means and offered his services,” Kafeel explains. “Farooque introduced Feroze, a businessman, as a respectable match and convinced us that he was ideal, and we trusted him.”
After *Zunaira’s marriage to Feroze, the family discovered that he was impotent. Initially blaming stress, Feroze later admitted to a permanent predicament that both his family and Farooque were aware of. In an attempt to silence the issue, Feroze's father offered Kafeel a substantial sum of money and a separate bungalow for Zunaira, which Kafeel refused.
Now, Kafeel and his family are pursuing legal action for fraud, deception, and false marriage against Feroze, his family, and Farooque, who orchestrated the deceit. “We won’t stop until justice is served,” Kafeel asserts.
Mental illness
*Muskan, now 30, looks back on her troubled past with a mix of relief and disbelief. She recounted how she was introduced to a man by a broker who claimed he was a successful businessman. She explained that the groom’s mother, a retired government employee, had even funded the marriage, hoping her son would be cared for after her death. However, Muskan soon discovered that her husband was mentally ill. "From the very first day, I realised something was terribly wrong," she says. Muskan left immediately, took legal action, and received compensation through arbitration. Now remarried, she adds, "I’m grateful for the new life I have, despite the hardships I faced."
*Falak’s story, however, took a different turn. At 28, she was promised a comfortable life with a man from a different ethnic background by a broker. "I was the sole provider for my sick father and younger brother, so I was eager for any opportunity to improve our situation," she explains. However, she soon discovered her husband was also mentally ill, leading to conflicts. The situation escalated when the groom’s family falsely accused her of theft and cheating. After a gruelling legal battle, the charges were dropped, but the experience left her emotionally scarred. "I’m still unmarried now and have learned a hard lesson about the fraudulence and lack of empathy in the matchmaking industry," Falak reflects.
According to Naeem Ali Soomro, Deputy Director, Social Welfare Department, Government of Sindh, “Individuals often seek the services of matchmakers when they have certain challenging traits—such as an undesirable age, physical appearance, previous marital status, or disabilities—that are known within their community. The primary reason is to avoid the social stigma attached to these traits within their own community,” Soomro says. “By engaging a matchmaker, they aim to find a partner from outside their social circles, hoping that the matchmaker can present them in a more favourable light.”
“I’ve encountered numerous cases where critical information was hidden by matchmakers,” he shares. “For example, one man married a woman through a matchmaker from another city, only to discover after the wedding that she was completely deaf. This fact was deliberately concealed throughout the matchmaking process,” Soomro recounts. “In another case, a woman learned that her new husband was already married with three children. The legal system is overwhelmed with cases of marriage fraud and deceit.”
The brokers’ perspective
Two matchmaking brokers—who requested anonymity—reveal how the industry runs covertly.
“Our industry is built on deception,” says one broker. “It is second nature to us, ingrained from a young age. Finding a truly compatible match is impossible in this business. Our primary targets are the most vulnerable: poor girls, often orphans or those in financial distress, elderly individuals seeking younger partners for lust or companionship, and widows looking for support.”
Family and social cohesion has weakened over the years. People are no longer as connected as they once were, leaving them more vulnerable to exploitation. Even though we are notorious, people keep coming to us because they feel they have no other option even though only about 10 percent of marriages arranged through brokers are successful, they revealed
*Noman Ali, a 44-year-old matchmaker, disclosed a rising trend in cities where individuals seek matchmakers to secretly enter second or third marriages, keeping them hidden from their current families. "We facilitate these covert arrangements, charging substantial fees for our discretion," he admits. Noman notes this trend is common among women in their late 30s to early 60s who missed earlier opportunities for marriage and now seek support as they age. "They approach us to avoid societal judgment, matching with men who also want to keep their existing marriages secret," he explains. The secrecy extends to the women’s own families, and men in these arrangements often prefer financially independent partners.
Advocate Tarique Ali Mastoi has voiced his concerns about the informal matchmaking brokers operating in Pakistan. “It is essential to introduce a licensing system specifically for informal matchmaking brokers,” he says. “This system would ensure that only those adhering to professional standards and ethical practices are allowed to operate. Additionally, we must enforce transparency requirements, including clear disclosure of fees, terms, and the methods used to match individuals. A dedicated grievance redressal system would offer a critical avenue for addressing complaints and resolving disputes, helping to hold brokers accountable for their actions. These measures will safeguard individuals from dishonest brokers and introduce much-needed transparency and fairness to the industry.”
Ali Raza Mugheri is a freelance contributor
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer
*Names changes to protect privacy