NEW DELHI - Ajit Singh knows about the lies people tell.
He has followed them through the littered, mildewed mazes of New Delhi’s middle class neighborhoods. He has photographed them as they leave their lovers’ apartments. He hears them exaggerate their salaries and hide their illnesses.
A thin man in an ill-fitting suit, Singh works out of a crowded office. A sign in slightly fractured English warns the staff: “Walls Has Ears And Eyes Too. BE ALERT.’’
Singh has spent years honing skills such as disguise and surveillance. With just a few minutes’ notice, he can deploy teams nearly anywhere across the country.
Because in modern India, where centuries of arranged marriages are being replaced by unions based on love, emotion, and anonymous Internet introductions, where would a wedding be without a detective?
“Today, there’s a need to check if people are telling the truth. And that is where we get involved,’’ said Singh. “Does that boy really have an education? Is he really earning that big salary? Is that boy or girl running around?’’
A groom-to-be may seem like a nice young man. He might come from a good family. But nearly two decades running his own agency, Hatfield Detectives, has taught Singh how little that can mean. So he spells out a warning: “You don’t know what that boy is doing with his time.’’
The detectives, though, are ready to find out.
“Before, we were only a luxury’’ for wealthy families, said Baldev Puri, 45, the founder of AMX, a large New Delhi-based agency where one-third of the business is premarital investigations. “Now, every family wants to know the maximum.’’
Want to have your daughter’s fiancé followed? Does he drink? Smoke? What’s his blood type?
No problem. It’ll cost just $300 or so for a basic investigation (surveillance teams are extra). India has a per capita income of less than $900 per year, but detective bills running into thousands of dollars are increasingly common.
“We start with the house: How many people live there, whether the property is owned or rented, if the subject in question is married or has been engaged before,’’ said Singh. “We talk to drivers, neighbors, neighbors’ drivers, maidservants.’’
The arranged marriage was long the norm in India: Two sets of parents, aided by matchmakers and older relatives, would choose spouses for their children. Trusted friends were consulted to look for signs of trouble: a potential groom about to lose his job, or a potential bride too flirtatious with the neighbors. The couple-to-be were, by and large, left out of the discussions.
