Last month, my 58-year-old mother discovered matrimonial apps and decided she was going to revolutionize my love life with "modern technology" while maintaining "traditional values." The result? Pure comedy gold.

Picture this: Mama sitting with her reading glasses, furiously swiping through profiles while muttering, "This boy looks nice, but what about his family background? Can we video call his grandmother?"

Her first complaint: "These apps don't show enough information! Where are the biodata details? What's his father's occupation? How many acres does the family own?"

I tried explaining that people don't usually lead with their land ownership anymore.

"Nonsense! Land is security, beta. Love doesn't pay the bills, but wheat crops do."

Then came her profile creation masterpiece. Under "About Me," she wrote: "Looking for suitable match for our daughter. She is fair, tall, educated engineer. Can cook traditional food and also knows Excel. Family owns two properties and a Honda Civic."

I had to explain that I was supposed to write my own profile.

"But beta, I know you better than you know yourself!"

The real chaos began when matches started messaging. Mama insisted on screening every conversation first. She'd sit next to me with a notebook, whispering loud suggestions:

"Ask him about his mother's health!" "Find out if he can make rotis!" "Does his family pray daily?"

When one guy asked what I did for fun, Mama immediately whispered, "Tell him you enjoy cooking and reading religious books!" Meanwhile, my actual hobbies include binge-watching Netflix and ordering takeout.

The breaking point came during our first video call with a potential match. Without warning, Mama appeared in the background carrying a tray of samosas, loudly announcing, "Beta made these herself!" (Plot twist: they were store-bought.)

Then she proceeded to conduct her own parallel interview: "Beta, what time does your family wake up? Do you help your mother in the kitchen? How often do you visit the gurdwara?"

The poor guy looked like he was being interrogated by the FBI.

The best part? When he politely asked about my interests, Mama jumped in: "She loves traditional dancing!" and actually demonstrated a few bhangra moves behind my laptop screen.

After he hung up (surprisingly quickly), Mama declared the experiment a success: "He seemed nervous. That means he respects elders. This could work!"

Three weeks later, she's created profiles on four different apps, appointed herself as my official "relationship consultant," and started a WhatsApp group called "Wedding Planning Committee" with aunties who have never met me.

Modern problems require traditional solutions, apparently. Or in Mama's case, traditional problems require modern solutions with traditional supervision.

Update: She just discovered Instagram and is now stalking potential matches' entire families through their social media. God help us all.