Last week my social media feed was inundated with images of the ‘Pakistani wedding of the year’; the hashtag #Munush (short for Munib and Anush) was the talk of the town. This young couple belonging to an extremely affluent family (Anush’s father Ammar Ahmed Khan is a former Senator of Pakistan besides helming the affairs of many group of companies) went all out to celebrate the event. It was a rich-weds-rich affair with more than 10 events to mark the marriage and was publicized well for public consumption.
Pakistani lifestyle magazines in all their wannabe-ness couldn’t stop gushing and admiring the new #RelationshipGoals and bridal goals the bride Anush had set for the nation’s girls. As if preoccupation with bridal finery was a nonstarter genre in the country! An alliance between the super rich can hardly be goals for the rest of us; it wasn’t like Anush Ammar chose to marry a person belonging to the middle class anyway.
This elite family from Lahore threw lavish dholkis, pre-sangeet lunches, a Disney themed party (!), bridal shower and the works, before moving their entire coterie of socialites to Turkey for more wedding functions and clinking of wine glasses of the affluent section of society. It was a never-ending tale of loud, ‘happening’ visuals that clogged our timelines day in and day out.
The bride wore the best of designer wear and the finest of jewels at each event, but in a nation where almost 50 percent of the population lives below the poverty line it mainly appeared as a well-synchronised effort of the family to rub their moolah on the common man’s face. This grand wedding appeared to be an exercise in establishing the family status, and making others envious about the extent someone can go in exhibiting marital revelry. In reality, it was not any different from a rich girl enjoying her ice cream in front of many impoverished souls in the scorching sun. The vulgar display of wealth was the best thing about #Munush.
If you are unaware of this wedding, I suggest you do a quick search on this bridal saga that inundated most Pakistanis’ online space, forcing us to devour the images somehow, privacy clearly not being the bride’s favourite subject. Grand weddings are great, I am not even suggesting one gets married in a single cotton suit, but the problem arises if an ex-lawmaker of the country makes a spectacle of his wealth at his daughter’s wedding. Senators, or former Senators, are individuals the public entrusted to establish laws that may eventually diminish vast class divides. That is not the case in Pakistan; here being a part of politics automatically translates into using it as a means to multiply wealth, and to further strengthen contacts with those in power so that personal interests can be pushed forward.
The same publications that were selling us Edhi’s simplicity shrouded in plain cotton fabric a couple of months ago were now suggesting that a Roberto Cavalli dress or a Faraz Manan lehenga can make or break the aesthetics of a wedding. This almost-hypocritical approach is bound to confuse impressionable readers, especially young girls. When did a lehenga become bigger than the vows of marriage itself? Why did we let this aspect of our culture overpower everything else? Earlier, there used to be tremendous pressure on girls to get married, but today some girls desire to tie the knot just so that they can wear a designer gharara, pose from a cool photo session and be sung about.
Love, my dear Pakistanis, has exited the building; we are left with competition and commodification in this game of nikah. The Anush Ammar wedding was nothing to aspire towards; I don’t recall seeing any picture of the bride and groom look lovingly into each other’s eyes. Their eyes and those of their guests were blinded by all that bling. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, many attendees at this wedding appeared like well-decorated but unhappy souls. Socialites often lead superficial lives, unable to purchase mental peace that money simply can’t buy.
Cheating spouses, unruly offspring and disloyalty amongst friends isn’t exactly the definition of a best life. The rich fool themselves with emeralds, rubies, swanky cars and luxury trips offshore because they are only left with buying power. Tossing and turning every night to deal with insecurities, living with loneliness in big bungalows is not exactly the lifestyle other Pakistanis should sprint towards.
They say marriages are made in heaven, but unfortunately, in Pakistan they are being sewn at the designer’s studio, frosted at a fancy cake-maker, compiled by a DJ and planned by an events manager. All but love, warmth and dignity are getting invited to these weddings.
The writer is a freelance columnist with a degree in Cultural Studies and a passion for social observation, especially all things South Asian. She tweets @chainacoffeemug