By Dr. Fiaz Maqbool Fazili
Is Silence Golden Always?This question has always baffled me.There are moments when silence is wisdom. And there are moments when silence becomes surrender, or approval. Are Our Marriages Going Out of Control? This is one of those moments.
Almost every Kashmiri privately agrees that our weddings have become extravagantly expensive, socially oppressive, and financially destructive. Yet when their own turn comes, the same people willingly participate in the very customs they condemn. The fear of one question—”What will people say?”—has become stronger than faith, common sense, and financial prudence. The result is a social epidemic hiding in plain sight. This is no longer merely about changing customs. It is a moral, economic, and religious crisis that deserves honest conversation. Marriage in Islam was designed to be a source of ease, dignity, simplicity and blessing. Yet we have transformed one of life’s simplest institutions into one of its most expensive performances. Instead of celebrating a sacred union, we increasingly stage elaborate spectacles where appearances matter more than purpose.
The Qur’an leaves little room for ambiguity. “Israf”—wasteful extravagance—is prohibited. Allah commands moderation because waste corrupts wealth, weakens character, and breeds inequality. Yet our weddings increasingly celebrate excess over restraint, competition over compassion, and prestige over piety.
Our grandparents married with warmth, simplicity, and community participation. Today, weddings are often managed like commercial productions. Event planners choreograph every detail—the groom’s arrival, the stage, the lighting, the photography, the music, even the sequence of smiles for the cameras.The wedding no longer belongs to the bride and groom.It belongs to social expectations.
Even more troubling is the steady import of rituals that neither our faith nor our culture ever demanded, many people tag it with TV serials. Elaborate pre-wedding shoots, designer stages, Haldi ceremonies copied from television serials, Doodh Pilai rituals, haldi rasam,choreographed entries, DJs, extravagant videography, luxury gift hampers, expensive dates and Zamzam presentations, ceremonial shawls, and countless decorative additions have become the new measure of status.
One recent photograph captured the absurdity perfectly. Friends were carrying the groom on an elaborately decorated floral platform, as though he were royalty entering a coronation rather than a Nikah.One is tempted to ask: are we celebrating a marriage or producing a theatrical performance?Perhaps nothing symbolises this excess more than flowers.Fresh flowers worth lakhs are flown in, artistically arranged for a few hours, admired briefly, photographed endlessly, trampled underfoot, and finally thrown away with the garbage.Every discarded petal asks a simple question:Was this really necessary?If that is not Israf, what is?
The waste extends to the dining table. Guests are welcomed with dry fruits, juices, snacks, desserts, takeaway gifts, and then invited to an enormous feast of twenty or thirty dishes. Much of it remains untouched before ending up in waste bins.Ironically, after spending fortunes, few guests leave impressed for long. Families remain burdened by debt, while conversations afterwards revolve around what was missing rather than what was memorable.
Extravagance has an insatiable appetite. The greatest victims are ordinary families.Kashmir is largely a middle- and lower-income society. Yet many parents borrow heavily, mortgage property, or exhaust lifelong savings simply to meet artificial social expectations. Weddings have quietly become competitions of financial display rather than celebrations of lifelong commitment.The consequences are visible everywhere.Parents postpone their daughters’ marriages because they cannot afford inflated expectations. Young men delay marriage until they accumulate enough money to finance ceremonies they never truly wanted. A sacred institution meant to make life easier has become one of its greatest financial burdens.
Behind this lies one powerful social weapon: ridicule.Nobody wants to be labelled,” Shikas Lad—a Kashmiri word ,the miser unwilling to spend. That fear pushes otherwise sensible people into irrational decisions. Social pressure has become stronger than religious conviction.
Another casualty has been respect for time. Invitation cards announce lunch at one o’clock. Guests arrive punctually, only to wait until four or five in the evening before food is served. Evening receptions routinely stretch late into the night. Sometimes the Barat arrives so late that ceremonies continue until Fajr.Those who respect time are punished. Those who waste it are accommodated.Among the waiting guests are elderly people, children, diabetics, cardiac patients, pregnant women, and individuals with chronic illnesses. For them, these endless delays are not minor inconveniences—they can be medically harmful.Respecting people’s time is also respecting people’s dignity.
Encouragingly, buffet dining has reduced delays and food wastage in many places. Yet resistance persists from those who insist that tradition cannot be touched. Traditions deserve respect, but traditions should serve society—not burden it. When customs become obstacles to hygiene, efficiency, convenience, or dignity, they deserve thoughtful reform, not blind preservation.
The obvious question is: who will stop this spiral? Will governments legislate simplicity?Can religious scholars alone reverse decades of social conditioning?
Will community elders speak? Where are the civil society organisations that routinely champion social reform? Where are the self-proclaimed advocates of Samaj Sudhar? Why do we courageously challenge political and administrative problems, yet hesitate before customs that impoverish our own people?
Years ago, a sincere movement advocating simple weddings briefly emerged in Kashmir. Its intentions were noble, but the movement gradually faded. Its failure should not discourage us. If anything, it should remind us that meaningful reform requires persistence rather than symbolism.Some may fairly ask, “What have you done? “It is a legitimate question.
I cannot claim to have transformed society. But I have tried to transform what lay within my own reach. In several marriages, I personally mediated between families to simplify ceremonies. We eliminated unnecessary rituals, removed expensive welcome customs, reduced wasteful expenditure, and served dignified but modest meals. Nothing essential was lost. Everything meaningful remained.The families were happier. The financial burden was lighter. The marriages were remembered for warmth rather than extravagance.
Social change never begins with governments.It begins with ordinary people making extraordinary decisions.One family refuses unnecessary rituals,like phirsaal(etc_).Another limits wasteful spending.A third decides that dignity matters more than display.Gradually, what once seemed impossible becomes normal.This is how cultures evolve.This is how harmful traditions lose their power.
The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ beautifully reminded us that the most blessed Nikah is the one that is easiest and simplest. Yet every year we drift further from that ideal. We continue replacing Sunnah with social pressure, moderation with excess, and gratitude with competition.The real tragedy is not that we know this.It is that we know it and still continue.
Every parent, every bride and groom, every Imam, every teacher, every doctor, every businessman, every public servant, and every community elder has a role to play. We should honour families that choose simplicity rather than those that spend recklessly. We should admire wisdom more than wealth and celebrate restraint instead of spectacle.
On the Day of Judgement, we will not be asked how magnificent our wedding stage looked, how many dishes we served, how expensive our flowers were, or how grand our procession appeared. We will be asked how we used the blessings Allah entrusted to us and whether we stood against harmful practices when they became normal.
The question before us is no longer whether weddings have gone out of control.
They have. The real question is whether we possess the courage to reclaim them. If Not Me, Then Who? If Not Now, Then When?
History rarely changes because governments issue notifications. It changes because ordinary people decide they will no longer participate in practices they know are wrong. Let one God fearing visionary, principled, trendsetter and socially responsible family initiate. Then another, then another. That is how societies heal.
That is how cultures rediscover their values. And that is how silence finally gives way to conscience. A family of moderation — embodying the Qur’anic ideal of balance, reviving the Prophetic model of simple marriage putting society’s welfare above personal display. A reformist family — quietly leading social change.The wealthiest family is not the one that spends the most. It is the one that has the means to spend lavishly but chooses simplicity so others can breathe easier. That is not miserliness—it is moral leadership.I especially like the phrase “moral leadership.” It perfectly captures the idea that true prestige lies not in spending, but in setting an example that uplifts society.
Wedding season is at its peak. So, I leave every parent preparing for a wedding, every young couple planning their future, every religious leader addressing a congregation, mohalla committees, civil society, socially conscious and concerned citizens and every member of our society with two simple questions: If not me, then who? If not now, then when? Is anybody listening?
The author besides being a Medical doctor at Mubarak hospital , is very active in positive perception management of various moral, social and religious issues. He can be reached at drfiazfazili@gmail.com & twitter
