I have attended my fair share of weddings. Cousins, childhood friends, colleagues, family friends, intimate ceremonies and sprawling destination celebrations. If there is one thing South Asians know how to do well, it is celebrate love with unmatched energy and enthusiasm. Just recently, I packed my sequinned saris and embroidered lehengas for two celebrations, one of them a destination affair in Rajasthan. Somewhere between colour-coded dress codes, choreographed sangeet performances, endless buffet counters and dance floors that stayed full until sunrise, I realised something unexpected. Being single at a wedding has become one of my favourite ways to experience one.
That is probably not the answer most people expect.
Perhaps the greatest irony is that I write about weddings for a living. As Features Editor of a wedding magazine, one of the questions I get asked most often is, “Do you have to attend weddings for work?” closely followed by, “You must get invited to so many weddings!” The reality is far less glamorous. I don’t receive a flood of invitations, and on the rare occasion that a bride or celebrity getting married does invite me, I almost always politely decline. To me, weddings are so very personal. They’re not red carpets or fashion weeks. They deserve to be celebrated by the people who have loved the couple long before the photographer (or journalist like me) arrived.
People also find it amusing that a single woman has somehow become an authority on bridal fashion and wedding trends. I often joke that perhaps that’s exactly why. After all, many married people I know aren’t nearly as obsessed with weddings as I am anymore! But beneath the humour is a genuine belief. I hold the institution of marriage in the highest regard. I believe in its sanctity, and I hope to experience that chapter myself one day. Writing about weddings has never made me cynical. If anything, it has only deepened my appreciation for how meaningful they truly are.
The Only “Inconvenient” Part About Being Alone At Weddings Is…
The only real inconvenience I have discovered about attending weddings solo has nothing to do with loneliness. It is removing a dozen strategically placed safety pins from my sari at midnight with nobody around to help, or trying to unhook my blouse after a long evening of dancing. That, I would argue, is the true single-girl struggle at an Indian wedding. Almost everything else has been surprisingly liberating.
That isn’t usually what people expect me to say. Culturally, Indian weddings have a way of making your relationship status feel like your identity. Before anyone asks what you do or what you’ve been up to lately, the conversation somehow lands on your love life. “Aww, you’re still single?” comes with a sympathetic tilt of the head. “You’re next,” someone cheerfully declares. Then come the classics.“Are you too fussy?” “Your parents must be worried.” Every South Asian woman who has crossed a certain age has heard some version of these questions. Years ago, they would have made me uncomfortable. Today, they mostly make me laugh.
You Are Never Really Alone
Destination weddings, especially, have completely changed my perspective. There was a time when checking into a hotel room alone would have made me feel self-conscious. Today, it seems like the start of an adventure. At a recent destination wedding, I spent time with wedding photographer Kartik Bhagat behind Dream Diaries, whom I had only known professionally until then. It was refreshing to see him in his element, documenting the celebrations while sharing plenty of laughs in between. I also bumped into Anil Singhvi ji, a longtime professional acquaintance of my father, and unexpectedly found myself chatting about stock markets and investments over cocktails instead of discussing wedding gossip. By the evening, I was swaying to an immersive Sufi performance and dancing through the artist line-up as though I were at a music festival rather than a wedding. Somewhere between breakfast conversations, dance floors and late-night chai, you stop being “the single guest” and simply become another person celebrating people you love.
Your Relationship Status Isn’t Your Identity
The older I have become, the less I have felt the need to justify being single. I no longer find myself explaining that I’m happy, that my career fulfils me or that I’m not constantly waiting for my dream man to walk into my life. There is something so freeing about arriving at a wedding without feeling the need to prove that your life is somehow incomplete. It already feels full. Marriage, when it happens, will simply be another chapter. It isn’t the title of my book. And at weddings, I am a friend cheering the loudest during the sangeet, enjoying henna being applied on my hands, a cousin fixing someone’s dupatta, a journalist admiring the décor, a Gujarati who can’t resist the dance floor and someone who genuinely delights in celebrating two people who made things work. My relationship status is perhaps the least interesting thing about me. And once I started believing that myself, I realised everyone else did too.
The Spotlight Isn’t On You
One of the biggest mindset shifts for me has been remembering why I’m actually there. A wedding invitation isn’t an invitation to compare timelines or reflect on my own relationship status. It’s an invitation to witness and celebrate the love story of two people I care about. Whether I’m getting emotional during the pheras or dancing freely at the after-party, my focus is on the couple. Their joy becomes contagious. And when you stop making the celebration about yourself, you realise there is so much happiness to soak in. That, after all, is what weddings are meant to be about.
Confidence Is Surprisingly Contagious
I have always being an introvert. Large social gatherings were never my natural habitat. But attending weddings alone has introduced me to a version of myself I never knew existed. I no longer hide behind my phone or make the bar my safe space. Instead, I people-watch. I admire beautifully draped saris, compliment someone’s heirloom jewellery or strike up conversations when waiting in queue at the buffet. At my friend and fashion designer Karan Torani’s brother Shubham Torani’s wedding, I found myself immersed in the details. Karan had dreamed up the décor himself, layering maximalist prints, textiles and handcrafted elements that looked like a beautiful extension of his eponymous label. One of the biggest revelations has been realising that people are not paying nearly as much attention to me as I once imagined. Everyone is busy celebrating, and that is freeing.
Interestingly, I have received more unsolicited opinions from people my own age and younger than from older women. Grandmothers and aunties have often surprised me by saying they admire my independence and wish they had enjoyed the same freedom when they were younger. Those conversations have also taught me to become less judgemental of other people’s relationship choices.
The Dance Floor Is The Best Icebreaker
One of the unexpected joys of attending weddings solo is how naturally you meet people. At musician and friend Bismil’s wedding in Jaipur last year, I arrived with a sibling duo and became the affectionate third wheel. Soon, the groom’s friends had adopted me into their gang, inviting me for cocktails and conversations. There was no networking agenda or awkward small talk. We were simply people brought together because we loved the same couple. Another pleasant surprise at another friend’s wedding was bumping into my dear friend Pritie Jain behind Bling Mushrooms.
Growing up Gujarati, dancing, whether during Navratri or at a wedding sangeet, is our way of “You can sit with us” community invitations. And that’s exactly what happened at my friends Prateik Smita Patil and Priya Banerjee’s wedding. I found myself dancing with one of their friends whom I had met barely an hour earlier. That’s the magic of Indian weddings. Somewhere between the first Bollywood track and the last round of desserts, strangers become familiar faces.
Dress For Yourself, Not For Validation
South Asian weddings can sometimes feel like fashion Olympics. Bigger diamonds. Heavier lehengas. Going solo has changed my relationship with dressing up. Today, I wear the sari because I love its craftsmanship. I choose the jewellery because it makes me feel confident. I get dressed for myself, not for compliments or photographs with a plus one. There are practical perks too. I can leave a function early if I am exhausted or stay until the last song if I am having the time of my life. This relaxed attitude about moving at my own pace has made celebrations more celebratory.
The Only Pressure Is To Have Fun
People often assume weddings must make single people feel incomplete. For me, they have done the opposite. I have never attended a wedding hoping to meet someone. The only expectation I carry is that I will celebrate wholeheartedly. Marriage, I believe, is not an achievement to unlock. It is one of life’s biggest journeys and gifts. Watching couples exchange vows has only reinforced my belief that finding the right partner matters infinitely more than simply finding one. I have seen beautiful marriages, and I have seen unhappy ones. Being married has never been the goal. Being happy has.
So yes, I will happily dance in someone else’s baraat, eat dessert twice, compliment strangers on their outfits and spend 20 frustrating minutes removing safety pins from my sari back in my hotel room. That’s because somewhere along the way, I realised that until I find my plus one for life, I can simply celebrate them on my own terms.
