What comes to your mind when you think of the spectacle that is the great Indian wedding? For me, it’ll always be an explosion of colours, music, and the delicious chaos of my big fat Indian family. Then there are the glittering lehengas and kurtas that could literally debut on a runway, a lavish spread of food that could feed an entire village, and enough jewellery to light up a whole city. They’re bold, larger than life, dripping in drama, and unapologetically extra. Who can forget the trippy soundtracks full of Bollywood hits, dhol beats, and the extravagant baraat squad?
And of course, no Indian wedding is complete without the supporting cast: the trove of judgmental aunties policing your life choices, distant relatives you’ve never met before, that one obsessive cousin insisting on a perfectly choreographed dance routine, and the uncles taking over the dance floor with questionable dance moves after one too many whiskies. Yes, they’re a complete sensory overload, but also overwhelming. Between the endless functions and nosy relatives, sometimes you’re just desperately counting down until the DJ night begins.
Now imagine stripping away the rituals, the aunties, the nosy distant relatives, and even the bride and groom, leaving just the glamorous outfits, the killer music, and the dance floor. Welcome to the world of fake weddings—a trend that’s gone viral in India and has now finally blazed its way to our shores. Simply put, it’s a celebration that mimics the structure, style, and spectacle of a real wedding ceremony, sans the actual marriage. Anyways, we Indians just need an excuse, any excuse really, to throw a grand party.
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So obviously, I had to attend to see what the hype is really about. On Instagram, the event was designed like a real Indian wedding invite. Tickets were selling out faster than you could say Sabyasachi lehengas, and before I knew it, I had an RSVP for a Saturday night ‘shaadi’ at an event space on Cecil Street. Instead of mandap or buffet tables, the organisers had set up a slick DJ console and strobe lights. There was no elaborate decor, annoying uncles, or a lavish spread to feast on, but as soon as I stepped inside, accompanied by my friends dressed to the nines, it felt instantly festive and warm. The crowd, the chaos, and the immense fun reminded me of why I love Indian weddings in the first place.
Half the excitement for me was in getting ready. I picked a shimmery sage green sharara set, earrings that could practically cut my ears off, and a smoky eye for a little bit of drama. My friends clearly understood the assignment with their mirror work kurtas, rich colour palettes, and stacks of bangles. We looked like we’d walked straight out of a Bollywood movie, and honestly? That was the goal.
The DJ absolutely killed it with Bollywood bangers, throwing in everything from Diljit Dosanjh’s hit club anthems to famous Shah Rukh Khan tracks. Within minutes, my motley crew and I were on the dance floor, singing our hearts out, mimicking hook steps, and dancing the night away. No interruptions whatsoever. At real weddings, you’re constantly dragged away for family photos, told to interact with the guests, or reminded that tomorrow is another elaborate function. Here, I could let go completely. No side eye from aunties, no pressure to behave. Just me, my ruffled sharara, and a playlist that didn’t miss.
Sober parties? Still on the fence on that. But one can definitely vibe with a fake wedding, sans the romance and eternal vows.
