The book “Do You Know Any Good Boys” by Meeti Shroff-Shah is a fun read. In the book, you will also figure out the four kinds of photos one comes across while husband-hunting.

One excerpt of the book says:

“In the interest of saving everyone involved a whole lot of time, bio datas have, of late, started being accompanied by pictures. At first, the thought of my photograph floating about strange living rooms and being handled by grubby – I have no idea why, but that’s how I imagined them – fingers was disturbing. But when I had sat through a few meetings, one of them with a delicate flower of a boy who couldn’t have weighed more than thirty-five kilos, wishing ardently that it would’ve been nice to get a little heads-up, I quickly came around, agreeing to send a picture in return for receiving one. Because compared to bio datas, which were reticent when it came to divulging anything useful, a picture practically prattled. The picture you received was usually a slight variation of one of these:

1. Guy in a suit, against a dirty, bright red or blue curtain – that trademark of the Indian photo studio – smiling into the camera with hands inside his trouser pockets. What you took out of it: Look I actually took the trouble of wearing a suit and going to a studio for this picture – that’s how badly I want to get married. Also, please note how comfortable I am in my suit. It not only shows that I wear suits on a regular basis, but also that I frequent the sort of places where suits are required – namely, the annually occurring wedding receptions of my many cousins in Bhavnagar, Gujarat, which gets very cold during the wedding season.
2. Outdoors. With one thumb hooked in the belt loop of a pair of denims and one leg raised smartly on a step, often with a cap. What you took out of it: I am an active, sporty kind of guy. Don’t be fooled by this little jiggling fold of fat hanging over my belt. It’s from all the beer I consume when I go to the sports bar to watch sports with my buddies. And don’t miss my Manchester United cap. I don’t wear it because of my receding hairline, I wear it because I love sports. Jeez!
3. Guy with arms wrapped around grandmother or some such appropriate family member. What you took out of it: I am a warm, family-loving kind of guy. In fact, I am so fond of my family that try as I might, I couldn’t find a photograph of myself without them in it too. Also, I have watched Hum Saath Saath Hai 118 times. Okay, so maybe I am not being completely fair. In the interest of my fast depleting karmic currency – what, you think we can go on making snide comments about innocent people without any repercussions? – I should admit that not all of them were as lame as that. Sometimes, despite the paunches and the unfortunate choice of clothes, there would be a redeeming pair of kind eyes or a smile that was as cheering as the sight of an old friend and I’d gladly go to meet those guys. In fact, I was even willing to overlook things like ‘going for a drive’ in the Interests section or ‘senior executive for MNC’ in the Profession section and all sorts of other minor outrages in the biodata, if the guy in question had an open, intelligent face. Though I couldn’t help but be tickled when we received not one, not two, but all three of these pictures from one guy. What was this? Gladrags Manhunt 2008? Or had the guy just not been able to pick his best? Or perhaps it was his mother who had sent them, because that would explain so much.
4. Even though I giggled about the three-picture guys, I’d pick them any day over the guys who sent the fourth kind of picture. All I can say about them is, ‘Huh?’ Very often – yes, amazingly, it happened with some regularity – a guy would send just one distant photograph of himself, invariably in front of the Eiffel Tower or some such iconic foreign attraction, and express regret at the lack of clarity. My point was: Are you kidding me? I can’t tell whether you have a nose in this picture, let alone any hair, so what am I to gauge? Your general aura? It is commendable that you’ve set foot outside the country and Paris, no less. But this is not a Yash Chopra movie. The exotic, foreign backdrop is not the star attraction, you are.

Buy this book here.