A labour of love: work and the growth of the Indian wedding
Simon Harding
The Taj Mahal, emperor Shahjahan’s monument to his late wife Mumtaz Mahal, is perhaps the greatest masterpiece ever created in the name of love. The iconic white marble structure with its perfectly symmetrical design and stunningly sculpted walls took thousands of masons over twenty years to build. Upon completion in 1653, several years after the emperor’s death, it had cost Rs.32m ($1m) and provided work for a generation of craftsmen. All over India today, love continues to drive spending, fuel growth and create jobs, often surpassing Shahjahan’s spree in a single week. But it has little to do with death, mourning and Murghal architecture, far from it; it is India’s loud, noisy and increasingly extravagant wedding industry, and it’s growing at 20% per annum.
Once upon a time the north Indian wedding was a big family party held in the family home. Joyous, jovial and generous, these parties were big neighbourhood events. They provided a healthy balance of hospitality, glamour and economy. Brothers and uncles pulled together to fund and organise the festivities, hiring a tent and maybe some musicians and a few kitchen hands, whilst sisters, aunts and mothers oversaw food, costumes and makeup. Then from the early 90s, the economy boomed, the middle classes emerged and became wealthier and the wedding became a chance to show off new found wealth and status. As middle class Indians scrambled to “keep up with the Patels” the wedding industry grew from a few chaps with a marquee to a multi-million dollar industry.
Today professional wedding planners ensure that events run with just the one expected hitch, organising everything from venues, catering, invitations and transport to priests, horses and marching bands. Their service don’t come cheap and neither do increasingly popular theme weddings (Egyptian and Japanese are popular). Consequently, spending has gone through the roof: the typical Indian middle class household earns anything from $4,500 to $20,000 p/a but the average wedding is said to cost around $20,000, whilst the super rich blow millions on their nuptials. At one Delhi wedding the groom arrived in a top-of-the-range German sports car flown over from Europe specially for the occasion.
Lavishness is infectious. High flying couples in Bangalore, India’s booming ICT hub in the southern state of Karnataka, are abandoning the south's spartan traditional marriages and turning instead to the theatrics of their northern cousins. A typical traditional Bangalore wedding costs around $10,000. A Delhi couple could easily spend this much on flowers alone.
Although all this flashing of middle class cash may seem in bad taste in a country in which the average daily income wouldn’t even buy a couple of invitation cards, there is another side to the story. Behind the wedding industry’s rocketing growth figures, its the bridal shops and its ranks of well-groomed and well-paid professionals are its foot soldiers and big-spenders are good news for them too.
“This is like a full time job. I'm going a little crazy”, a friend had joked as she grappled with the logistics of her sister's upcoming wedding at their sprawling family home. To be honest, I thought she was being a drama queen, but when I arrived for the first of three days of solid eating, drinking and wonderful Indian hospitality, she soon had my admiration and sympathy. The house was decked out in fairy lights, streamers, garlands and flowers. Huge reams of yellow and purple cloth splayed out from the roof forming a canopy for the garden and central courtyard. The wedding was big, fun and generous, but in a relaxed and welcoming manner, no sports cars, sushi or ice sculptures here. But what struck me most was the sheer number of people working at the wedding.
We were greeted by two turbaned men playing a short fanfare as we walked up the drive. The music continued inside where three elderly musicians in the main courtyard playing traditional songs, whilst a group of qawwali singers filled the garden with their rhythmical hypnotic serenades. A team of waiters carried drinks, another canapes fresh from the grill in the corner manned by several uniformed chefs. Half a dozen men toiled behind the temporary bars, pouring, mixing, serving, repeating; elderly ladies painted mehndi on hands, turbaned men rolled chewing tobacco in pan leaves, drivers milled around by the gate waiting to whisk guests back to hotels and behind the scenes a small army of kitchen staff peeled, diced, fried, stirred and kneaded enough food for five hundred people. Soon even more would arrive to wash up many thousands of plates, dishes and glasses. And this was just day one of three: the informal lunch. The groom hadn't even arrived with his party. The wedding must have created work and provided food (the staff ate the same food after the guests) for well over a hundred people.
Some of the growth in India's wedding industry stems from expensive imported goods like luxury foods, designer clothes and even performers. But, this is for the super rich Bollywood set only. For India's 300m or so strong middle class, spending more on wedding celebrations simply means of the same: more people, more food, more music and more razzmatazz, all of which can be catered for by an army of local labourers.
Whilst Shahjahan's love for his wife kept thousands busy for two decades, the middle class Indian wedding can make the more modest, but equally solid, claim to provide dozens with work for a few days, and all in the name of love. In an economy in which the vast majority do not have formal jobs and regular wages, but rather work as and when they are needed, this extra wedding work comes as a blessing.