Why do people talk about the Big Fat Indian Wedding like it’s some kind of post-liberalisation phenomenon? They bemoan the influence of Sooraj Barjatya and
Sanjay Leela Bhansali, of Madhuri Dixit’s backless purple choli-sari, of champagne, Swarovksi and Singaporean orchids, and talk about the good old 1940s when Indira Nehru married her Feroze clad in a simple pink sari woven out of yarn spun by her father in prison. Shaadi, khaadi and azaadi. Those were the days! Where have they gone, they wonder?
Hello, I want to tell these people, Indians have always revelled in humongous, obscenely expensive weddings. I don’t have any evidence to prove it, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Sita Weds Ram’ was a magnificent affair. Ditto ‘Draupadi weds Yudhisthir-Bhim-Arjun-Nakul-Sahdev’. Ditto Mumtaz weds Shahjahan. All the way down to Bhawani ‘Bubbles’ Singh of Jaipur weds Princess Padmini of Sirmur.