By Nasser Ul Gani
Kashmir’s wedding culture has long been celebrated for its beauty, warmth and elaborate traditions. But behind the glitter of gold and the aroma of grand feasts lies a hard truth: the economic burden of these celebrations is pushing families into debt and pushing marriages further into delay. What was once a symbol of cultural pride has now become a cause of financial distress.
Gold jewellery, extravagant Wazwan feasts and large guest lists have become near-mandatory markers of social respect. Families routinely drain lifelong savings or borrow money simply to host weddings that meet societal expectations. For many middle- and lower-income households, the financial recovery from a single wedding can take years—and sometimes, it never comes.
This culture of excess has real consequences. In Jammu & Kashmir, as per publicly available data, nearly 27% of women aged 20–49 and 35% of men in the same age group remain unmarried—significantly higher than the national averages. Another data from Srinagar, Baramulla and Sopore shows the average marriage age rising to 27.8 years for women and 31.5 years for men. Compare this with India’s national median of 19.2 years for women and 24.9 years for men, and the gap becomes striking.
The pressure to meet social expectations is causing young people to delay marriage indefinitely. And the consequences are no longer just social—they are turning medical. Doctors across Kashmir report an increase in infertility among newly married couples, largely attributable to marrying later, combined with prolonged stress and lifestyle factors. What was once rare is now routine in fertility clinics.
The psychological toll on the youth is equally troubling. Anxiety, depression and self-doubt have become common, especially among those unable to afford what society expects of them. The dreams of companionship and family life are increasingly overshadowed by financial anxiety.
Yet, amid this growing crisis, there is a dire need for shift in thinking. A thinking which argues that marriage should be a private, intimate and simple affair, not a competition of displays. Simplicity does not diminish cultural value—it restores it. A modest ceremony can preserve dignity, reduce financial burden and allow couples to begin their lives without debt or regret.
Community leaders and religious scholars should lead with renewed focus on this discourse which encourages simpler weddings, denounces wasteful spendings. They should strive to build a community consensus around moderation and simplicity. The end result can dramatically reduce financial stress and bring down the age of marriage.
Kashmir’s culture is rich enough to stand on its own. It does not need the weight of unnecessary extravagance to validate it.
As a society, we must ask ourselves: Should a wedding be a celebration—or a burden?
If we choose the latter, we choose to push our youth into debt, delay and despair. If we choose the former, we must collectively embrace simplicity, modesty and financial wisdom.
The time has come to redefine Kashmiri weddings—not by abandoning tradition, but by preserving its essence. Simplicity may be the only way to ensure that marriage remains a joy, not a lifelong liability.
Author is a Teacher and can be reached out at naseermalla009@gmail.com
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