Once upon a time, weddings in Dhaka were simple, joyous affairs. The bride wore red, the groom wore something vaguely traditional, and the decorations consisted of marigolds and fairy lights. Now? We have entered an Orwellian wedding verse where the mehendi stage must resemble a Mughal durbar, the bride's lehenga must match the dulabhai's pocket square, and the guests are required to follow dress codes stricter than an embassy visa checklist!
It all starts with the colour code. This is not a suggestion — it's a decree. Your invitation will come with a line that reads, "Attire: Shades of Pastel," as if wearing something outside the prescribed palette is a personal attack on the family's honour. Show up in red when the theme is "Blush Pink and Mint," and you are essentially declaring war. Somewhere in the corner, an aunty will whisper, "She clearly wore that to stand out."
Even if you obediently follow the colour scheme, you are not off the hook. There's also the dress code, which has evolved into a fashion gauntlet. Gone are the days when "traditional attire" sufficed. Now it's "Contemporary Bohemian Chic" or "Rajasthani Regal with a Modern Twist!"
What does that even mean? Nobody knows. Meanwhile, the men are sentenced to sherwanis in "peach" or "dusty rose"—shades that sound more like dessert names than acceptable menswear.
And then there's the decor.
Weddings today are not just events; they are productions. The mehendi cannot just have some fairy lights and a dhol — it has to be a "Moroccan Paradise," complete with lanterns imported from Turkey. The nikkah must feature a floral arch so intricate it looks like the set of a Bollywood rom-com. Every single detail must "match the vibe," from the tablecloths to the dessert forks.
The obsession with themes does not stop at decor. Even the food must fit. Buffets are curated to feature "fusion cuisine," which usually means replacing the dependable kachchi biryani with sushi and sliders because what's a wedding without raw fish? And yet, no matter how fancy the menu, the kachchi aloo mysteriously disappears halfway through dinner, leaving a room full of angry guests wondering if they have been scammed.
But let's not kid ourselves — this madness is all for Instagram. Weddings are no longer about celebrating love; they are about curating content. From the bride's entrance (accompanied by drones and fog machines) to the synchronised sangeet performances, every moment is designed for maximum likes. Half the guests are too busy filming their chaat plates to eat them.
The end result? A wedding that looks perfect but feels exhausting. Guests spend more time navigating the dress code and rehearsing their sangeet routines than actually enjoying the event. Couples pour lakhs into creating a "vibe" that lasts a single evening while their guests leave with sore feet and blurry phone photos.
So, the next time you are invited to a wedding with a 12-page theme guide, remember: it's not about you. It's about the reels.
Barrister Noshin Nawal is an activist, feminist and a columnist with a knack for sharp, satirical takes on social and societal issues. She can be reached at nawalnoshin1@gmail.com.
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