A traditional Hindu wedding is not merely a social contract. It is a sacred ceremony conducted by priests in the presence of friends and relatives – and occasionally a few uninvited guests. Rituals vary across states and communities, but one feature remains constant – the solemnity of the occasion.
The priest chants mantras. The sacred fire burns quietly. The groom ties the mangal sutra around the bride’s neck. The newlyweds take seven steps together, promising to share life’s duties and joys.
In practice, the modern Hindu wedding now unfolds under an even more powerful deity – the smartphone camera.
The mandap meets the media pit
The mandap today resembles a press conference. Photographers crouch at strategic angles, videographers glide around with cinematic rigs, and a ring of friends armed with mobile phones ensures that every ritual is captured in high definition.
The priest chants the mantras. The camera crew adjusts the lighting. Welcome to the age of the Insta-ready wedding.
The transformation has been remarkable. Weddings are no longer merely conducted – they are produced. Entire event management ecosystems now exist to curate the experience – designer wardrobes, themed mandaps, choreographed sangeet nights, drone photography, curated menus, and destination venues that look suspiciously like film sets.
Sacred vows, social media edition
Westerners, charmed by the spectacle, are increasingly opting for Hindu-style weddings in India. They come for the colour, the rituals, the elephants if available – and perhaps the realisation that no other civilisation has managed to convert matrimony into a multi-day festival with such enthusiasm.
But the quest for viral moments has now reached a new milestone. A recent video circulating on social media – reportedly from West Bengal – shows a newly married couple sitting near the sacred fire on the mandap floor.
Rose petals lie scattered around. The groom appears in a red kurta with a white scarf. The bride is dressed in a traditional red outfit complete with jewellery and a maang tikka. So far, entirely orthodox.
The kiss that refused to end
Then the couple lock themselves into a prolonged kiss – not the shy, ceremonial variety, but an Imran Hashmi–Mallika Sherawat-style lip-lock that reportedly lasts more than half a minute while a videographer faithfully records the moment. Thirty-five seconds, according to enthusiastic timekeepers on the internet.
In church weddings, when the priest says, ‘You may kiss the bride’, the gesture usually resembles a polite punctuation mark – a quick peck that confirms the union and allows the ceremony to move along.
What the Bengal couple demonstrated was less punctuation and more paragraph. Naturally, social media reacted with the composure for which it is famous.
Tradition under the ring light
Some viewers declared the act inappropriate for a traditional ceremony conducted before the sacred fire. For them, the mandap is not the place for extended demonstrations of affection.
Others rushed to defend the couple. Why should expressions of love be policed, they asked. After all, the entire ceremony is about two people beginning a life together.
The precise date and location remain unverified. That, however, has not stopped the clip from circulating widely and collecting thousands of views.
When the ritual meets the reel
The ancient Vedic texts never had to anticipate ring lights, drone shots, or viral reels. The sages who composed the mantras probably assumed that the bride and groom would be paying attention to the priest rather than to the videographer.
Yet here we are – in an era where the sacred fire burns quietly while the cameras roll loudly.
Perhaps future priests will adapt. Between the mantras, the pandit might announce: ‘Now the couple will pause briefly for a lip-lock… photographers kindly keep your cameras ready.’
