Opinion Sidharth-Kiara wedding: Everyone agrees Instagrammy weddings are cringe, but still can’t get enough of them. Here’s why
There is something magical about Indian weddings that turns the absurd into beautiful, the flashy into poignant. What's not to like and share about love?

So Kiara Advani’s kaleere carried a “thoughtful dedication” to Sidharth Malhotra’s departed pet, and he wore mehendi with her initials. While their pastel pink clothes were designed by Manish Malhotra, Advani’s “bridal entry” song was “Ranjha” from Shershaah. You knew all this, didn’t you?
You may claim it is impossible to escape information about celebrity weddings, plastered as they are across social media and even news media. And yet, the wedding picture shared by Advani and Malhotra on their personal Instagram handles have more than 26 million likes — so far.
There’s something about weddings, celebrity or regular: The overdose of mush and money we can’t stop cringing at, but also can’t seem to get enough of. Everyone agrees social media is the steroid the already-OTT Indian wedding did not need, that ceremonies are now “more reels than rituals”, that the tyranny of Instagram aesthetics has pushed up anyway aww-bscene wedding budgets. And yet, people continue to like-share-subscribe to the Mummyji-of-all-dramas that is the Indian wedding.
In the wedding season, go to any park in your city where the evening sun is not obscured by buildings, and you’ll find a to-be bride plodding determinedly on, lehenga trailing in the mud, the lucky groom walking beside, usually with a frown and a water bottle. The valiant cameraman will climb walls, roll around on the ground, suggest ingenious poses till the couple have their dream pre-wedding shoot picture — framed against the setting sun, cut-price versions of whatever celebrities they most admire.
A friend’s sister was inconsolable at her recent wedding because someone messed up the entry song and she had to walk into the mandap with ‘Din shagna da’ playing, which, apparently, is “so 2021”. Despite ensuring her brothers wore matching clothes and the floral chaadar over her head complimented her lehenga, she now would not be able to post her entry video on social media.
At my own wedding, after I said no to creating a step-by-step reel of my mehendi and a follow-up video of my husband “finding” his initials in the henna pattern, the extremely concerned mehendi didi asked me if I was happy about the marriage.
Another friend sent the #TeamGroom YouTube lessons of the dances they were to perform at the wedding, and bought spare outfits in case someone turned up in clothes that didn’t match the dress code.
A bride-to-be I met during my wedding shopping told me she was only considering MUAs (make-up artists) with more than 10k Instagram followers, as that would maximise her chances of being a “viral bride”.
Is all this over-the-top and frankly, rather insane? Yes. Isn’t the wedding greater than its potential virality? Also, yes. But then that is the magical part about Indian weddings, the alchemy that turns the absurd into beautiful, the flashy poignant. Does the focus on the right click, the curated shot, the perfect post take away the genuine love and connection and emotion that illuminate any wedding? No.
People consume “wedding content” because through all its try-hard showiness, some real, heartwarming sentiment glimmers through, personal yet universal, instantly recognisable.
In the middle of a choreographed dance, the siblings will hug spontaneously, and the hall will ring with genuine applause. A twirling, sashaying bride will spot her father and break down, and everyone around will have moist eyes. Friends will meet after years at a wedding, and the hectic dupatta-fixing and lipstick-borrowing will bring to mind school dances and colony performances.
Every Instagram wedding story, no matter how staged, is the story of two people celebrating a bond of love, and many other loved ones coming together to make that moment possible. What’s not to like and share about love?
yashee.s@indianexpress.com