Have you received three wedding invites already this year, plus two save-the-dates for early 2026?? I don’t envy you one bit.
As a North Indian living in Bengaluru, I’ve been to enough weddings to develop a system. Broadly, they fall into four types:
- A destination wedding — less shaadi, more showreel.
- A Punjabi extravaganza — with lehengas heavier than logic.
- A peaceful South Indian ceremony — ending before your second cup of coffee.
- A no-frills wedding — officiated by a priest, an advocate, or both.
Wedding 1: Goa Goals — Destination, but Designer
It starts with “Just 200 close people.” Cue family drama. Who counts as close? Fights erupt. Guest lists get revised a dozen times.
Enter the wedding planner — armed with spreadsheets, a vision, and zero emotion. Each event has a theme: rust and gold for mehendi, ivory and coral for pheras, aqua for the pool party. Dress codes go out. Florals are flown in. The flower budget alone could fund a start-up.
The couple sets the vibe — mixing personal stories, cultural roots, and Instagram trends. Parents fund it, but make no creative decisions beyond nodding at the right time.
Guests fly in. DJs are flown out. Foreign guests get crash courses: haldi, pheras, coconuts — explained through stylish infographics. The bride’s glam squad works non-stop on her, cousins, mum, and two bridesmaids from Canada.
It’s a three-day rollercoaster — planned to the last second. And the reels? Cinematic. Edited. Slightly misleading.
Wedding 2: Dilli Dhamaka — Punjabi Full Throttle
From Goa breeze to Delhi fog machine — brace yourself.
Baraatis have danced for hours. The horse looks bored. Videographers swarm. Phuphajis, Mausajis, and Mamajis — garlands in hand, headgear perfectly tilted — smile while secretly plotting how to lure the to-be-damaadji inside. The bride no longer walks — she makes an entrance like a music video heroine, flanked by bridesmaids channeling full-blown Bollywood item number energy.
The buffet boasts 47 dishes — proudly multi-multi-cuisine, with free-flowing cocktails. Then the choreographed performances begin. Everyone’s dancing with two left feet. Aunties are scanning for rishtas like FBI agents.
The guest list balloons to 800. Because how do you not invite the people who once invited you, your parents, or your chacha to a mundan eighteen years ago?
The events feel endless. Jewellery and outfit flex at full power — between outfit change #4 and #14, you stop counting. One suitcase is just footwear: heels, wedges, and ‘just-in-case’ juttis.
By the end, you need a chiropractor, a therapist, and a juice cleanse.
Wedding 3: South Indian Simplicity — Filter Coffee & Efficiency
The muhurat? 6 AM. Set 4 alarms. Sleep is a luxury. The ceremony is not.
No DJ. No fog. Just jasmine garlands, sandalwood paste, and Vedic chants in a serene temple courtyard.
The bride walks in draped in a Kanjeevaram saree that looks like it was woven by ancestors. The groom stands quietly, blinking like he’s questioning every life decision — mostly because he hasn’t had coffee yet.
The ceremony is short, precise, and done before lunch. Vegetarian meals served on banana leaves — eat, fold, leave.
You’re home by lunch — full, calm, and oddly content.
The Punjabi guests miss the entire thing. “What do you mean it’s over? It’s 9:15 AM!”. They have sworn: “Never again!” No drinks, no non-veg, no late nights, no dance-shance, no ear-deafening music… what kind of wedding is this?
Wedding 4: No-Frills & Full-Hearted — Court, Temple, or Arya Samaj
And then, there’s the quiet one.
It’s not that they can’t afford grandeur — they simply don’t believe in shor sharaba. Maybe they’re going green, or just want something real, without noise.
Just two people, a handful of signatures, a priest or official, and maybe a witness who made it just in time for morning chai.
The bride wears her mother’s well-loved saree, rich with stories. The groom borrows a Diwali kurta, polished but familiar.
Reception? Perhaps filter coffee and idli at a beloved neighbourhood joint, or a simple lunch with close family — one long table, one meal, endless warmth.
Just two people choosing each other — sincerely, quietly, completely.
So… What’s the Right Wedding?
With every celebrity shaadi going viral, it’s tempting to ask:
- Why not donate that money?
- What about the planet?
- Do I want seven vows or seven outfit changes?
There’s no single answer. But maybe there’s a middle path — where beauty meets meaning, and celebration honours simplicity without losing its magic.
Pause and ask yourself:
- Do I need 800 guests or just 80 dear ones?
- Do I want to remember this day — or recover from it?
- Do I want more memories — or more gift-wrapped mixer grinders? (I got 7 wall clocks!)
If fog machines, floral ceilings, and flash mobs make your heart race — go for it. If your heart is in handwritten vows, sacred coconuts, and quiet traditions — that’s perfect. Or mix and match. Create a day that reflects you — not a checklist, trend, or distant cousin’s expectations.
Because no matter how you say “I do” — under chandeliers or tube lights, in couture or cotton — marriage begins where the fairy tale ends. That’s when the filters fade, the photographers go home, and you’re negotiating who’s washing the dishes.
And if you’re lucky? You’ll fight, fold laundry, pay bills — and still find reasons to laugh. Together.
Iti Mattoo, retired after 30 years in the IT industry, now enjoying her creative pursuits.
Loved this, Iti dear! You are indeed a gifted writer! And very observant! Write more, both to inform and entertain!
Hilarious discription. Enjoyed thoroughly 🙂
Its how all of us miss the wood for the trees…..
There is much more chatter about cracking entrance tests and getting admissions as opposed to how to make the most of your course and duration at ur institute.
There is more hype around cracking the campus interview and placement as opposed to how to grow in a company.
The expertise to win elections is more valued and talked about as opposed to running a Government and driving progress.