Mohd Rafique Rather
It is marriage season in Kashmir, and while festivities are in full swing, what strikes us most is the growing culture of extravagance. The very essence of Kashmiri weddings—once rooted in simplicity, spirituality, and community bonding—is being steadily replaced by wasteful display. What should be occasions of joy and cultural pride have, over the years, turned into platforms for competitive showmanship.
Traditionally, Kashmiri marriages were intimate and soulful. Families and neighbours came together for Wanvun (Kashmiri trading sangeet) shared stories, and celebrated with the quintessential Wazwan—a feast that symbolized unity rather than status. In those times, the Wazwan was modest, with only four to five dishes, each carrying cultural significance and unique taste. Community elders and young boys personally served the guests—from guiding them to wash their hands to laying out the tramis—adding dignity, warmth, and grace. Today, however, the Wazwan has ballooned to fifteen or more varieties, while service has been outsourced to catering brigades, stripping the event of intimacy and the personal touch that defined it. Rituals like hand-embroidered attire, and modest ceremonies reflected the valley’s identity. A marriage was about new beginnings and collective happiness, not dazzling the crowd.
But times have changed. Social media, outside influences, and a booming wedding industry have redefined what a “successful” marriage means. Families now feel pressured to host lavish events with sprawling menus, designer cakes, choreographed photo shoots, and extravagant décor. Even tents—once a humble necessity—have transformed into lavishly decorated structures, further inflating costs. For those who cannot afford them, these excesses breed frustration, humiliation, and misery.
The culture of competition has placed crushing financial burdens on ordinary families. Parents—particularly those with daughters—are driven into debt, forced to delay marriages, or compelled to sell land, gold, and whatever little assets they own simply to “keep up with the trend.” According to an unconfirmed report, nearly 50,000 girls in Kashmir have crossed the conventional marriage age because their families could not afford the skyrocketing expenses. This grim reality has created a society increasingly weighed down by debt, despair, and widening social divides.
“True happiness in marriage lies not in extravagance, but in simplicity, togetherness, and the preservation of our cultural soul.”
Beyond financial ruin, the psychological cost is equally corrosive. Weddings that were once sources of pride and community bonding now sow insecurity, stress, and resentment. Elders lament that genuine hospitality has been replaced by ostentation, and that the soul of Kashmiri marriages is slipping away. Families who choose simplicity often face ridicule or exclusion—a cruel irony in a culture that once prized modesty as a virtue.
It is time we ask ourselves: has the essence of marriage been lost to the glitter of chandeliers, multi-dish feasts, and decorative tents? Can we really afford to sacrifice our heritage, our finances, and our mental well-being at the altar of social competition?
There is still hope. Across the valley, voices are rising against this trend, reminding us of our own traditions and of Islamic teachings that stress the most blessed marriages are those rooted in modesty. We must reclaim the spirit of togetherness, humility, and cultural pride that once defined Kashmiri weddings.
Religious leaders, community elders, and civil society organizations have a vital role to play. They must guide people, create awareness, and discourage the culture of wasteful spending. Sermons in mosques, community meetings, and grassroots initiatives can help restore balance and remind us all that joy in marriage comes not from spectacle, but from simplicity, spirituality, and shared happiness.
Equally, the youth of Kashmir must come forward to defeat this growing menace. It is the younger generation—both boys and girls—who suffer the most, whether through the crushing pressures of expensive marriages or the painful consequences of marriages indefinitely delayed. The youth must lead by example, shunning extravagance and embracing modesty, so that the cycle of waste and competition is broken. Their courage to choose simplicity will not only ease the burden on families but also safeguard our cultural identity for generations to come.
Unless we act collectively—elders, religious leaders, and youth together—our heritage risks being drowned beneath the weight of borrowed customs and hollow displays. The challenge before us is clear: to rediscover the beauty of simplicity and restore the lost essence of Kashmiri marriages.
The author is a trade union leader turned politician, Educationist,writer, TV debater, can be reached out at mrafiqr65@gmail.com
