“Varun, you tell me one thing ya, if you behave like this, which girl will marry you?†an ‘Aunty' asked Varun Agarwal in distinctive Indian aunty-like language in his book, “How I braved Anu Aunty & co-founded a Million Dollar Company.â€
Further along in the narrative, which Mr. Agarwal says is a true account of his life although it is published as fiction, his mother sobs as she tells her friend, “I don't know what to do. Who will marry him?†She then drags him off to see a counselor.
All this because Varun Agarwal, who is now 25, wanted to become an entrepreneur when he finished college, shunning the socially accepted career route favored by the sons and daughters of his parents' fr iends.
In Bangalore, a city at the forefront of many social changes in India, the young are leading a vibrant start-up culture that has taken root over the past few years, much to the dismay of a generation of parents.
According to these elders, respectfully called “Aunty†and “Uncle†in India by the younger generation, the natural progression after college is to work for a short time, to get an M.B.A., to land an even better job with an established company  and culminating in an arranged marriage.
Entrepreneurship and arranged marriages are rarely an ideal match, however. So things often come to a head when young adults reach what many view as a marriageable age.
Pavan Sondur, 26, founded Unbxd last year, a company that sells search products for online commerce. He describes himself as “not a hot favorite†for an arranged marriage. “This is a country that glorifies those who land high-paying jobs straig ht off the college campus,†he said. “India does not appreciate struggling young entrepreneurs.â€
His parents, who are trying to arrange his marriage, believe that he ruined his personal life when he decided to found a start-up, he said. He finds it particularly confusing because his parents, who both have doctorate degrees and who are professors at an engineering college in Belgaum, north of Bangalore, fell in love and married without parental consent.
Mr. Sondur said his once rational parents changed after he started his venture.
“My mother thinks she should help me since I'm unlikely to find anybody on my own; she believes no girl would want to marry an entrepreneur,†Mr. Sondur said.
Mr. Agarwal, meanwhile, chose to chronicle his rebellion against parental and ‘Aunty' pressure in his fast-paced, irreverent book, which has sold 30,000 copies and is currently in a third reprint. His company, Alma Mater, which sells logo-adorned mercha ndise for colleges and schools across India, is three years old and financed by angel investors.
But on the home front, there has been no letup in the demand for him to get a “stable job.â€
His mother wanted to find him a match from the family's Marwari community, a conservative trading clan from Rajasthan, in northwest India, that now values salaried professionals too, he said.
Mr. Agarwal's entrepreneurial turn, however, dimmed his chances of an arranged marriage within the community, he said. “Parents of prospective brides strike me off the list when they find I am a start-up guy,†he said.
“They want a safety net for their daughters,†he said. “They feel I could not provide her a nice house or a luxury car as I don't have a job and banks will not give me credit.â€
In contrast, Mr. Agarwal's older brother took the tried-and-tested route of an engineering degree followed by an M.B.A. overseas and was deemed a catch by his parents ' friends. A marriage was arranged and he and his wife moved to Canada.
It is not just parents that are wary of entrepreneurs. While India has no shortage of smart people to start up businesses, the education system does not encourage independent thinking, problem solving or risk-taking, said Rohan Murty, the son of Narayana Murthy, who co-founded the outsourcing company Infosys.
“Perhaps society at large should encourage us to think, question, differ and ultimately build our own convictions,†said Mr. Murty, who is studying embedded computing at Harvard University, where he is a Junior Fellow at the Society of Fellows.
Women entrepreneurs face matrimonial hostility of a different order, said Naadia Mirza, 26, the founder of The Dottedi, an event management and experiential gifts company. Ms. Mirza, who has met the families of about 20 prospective grooms, has tired of listening to rote responses: “Our son is successful, so you may not need to wor k so hard for a second income,†for example, or “You will want to find a regular job when you start a family.â€
“The perception is that entrepreneurs are headstrong, and that is not a womanly virtue in an arranged marriage situation,†she said.
Ms. Mirza recently paid off her student loans, bought herself a flashy new car and treated herself to jewelry. But marriage remains elusive, and relatives have warned her that she may soon have to settle for a divorced man in his 40s.
The start-up obstacle does not spare employees, either, and sometimes leads to comical situations at Unboxd, Mr. Sondur's company. One employee faces regular ignominy at work when the family members of prospective brides troop into the office to ferret out his personal details, Mr. Sondur said.
“They want to know if this company really exists, what is his job title, what is his salary,†Mr. Sondur said. “This happens a couple of times a month.†While it is not c ompany policy, Mr. Sondur said he had started revealing the employee's salary range in the interest of seeing him marry.
Meanwhile, Mr. Agarwal said he had recently met and become romantically involved with a young woman from the northeastern state of Assam. They want to marry. His parents are not happy about the match, and he has not met her parents.
He prophesied nervously, “They will reject me not because I am a non-Assamese, but because I don't have a regular job.â€
Saritha Rai sometimes feels she is the only person living in Bangalore who was actually raised here. There's never a dull moment in her mercurial metropolis. Reach her on Twitter @SarithaRai.
