
The average wedding in Srinagar can easily surpass several lakhs of rupees when you factor in the cost of venue, catering, attire, jewellery, and gifts. Families often take on loans or deplete savings to host multi-day celebrations, only to discover that the expenses continue long after the last guest departs
Marriage has always been a cherished milestone in Kashmiri culture, marked by elaborate Wazwan feasts, vibrant Wanwun songs, and the warm embrace of extended family. Yet today, a growing number of young Kashmiris find themselves hesitating at the altar. It’s not that they don’t believe in love or lifelong companionship—it’s that the weight of financial burdens, cultural expectations, and shifting personal priorities has turned “I do” into “Oh no.”
Financial Pressures are too Heavy
The average wedding in Srinagar can easily surpass several lakhs of rupees when you factor in the cost of venue, catering, attire, jewellery, and gifts. Families often take on loans or deplete savings to host multi-day celebrations, only to discover that the expenses continue long after the last guest departs. Newlyweds may find themselves servicing debts while also saving for a home, contributing to relatives’ milestones, or supporting aging parents.
For many young men, the pressure to “provide” means securing a government job or a well-paid position—neither of which is guaranteed in a competitive market. Meanwhile, young women worry about the stigma of financial dependence: if they marry before establishing their own careers, they fear being seen as a burden rather than an equal partner. As rents climb and living costs rise, the prospect of committing to marriage without a solid financial cushion feels increasingly risky, prompting many to postpone or rethink the idea altogether.
The Weight of Cultural Expectations
Kashmiri weddings are woven from threads of history—arranged introductions, clan-based matches, and carefully negotiated waj (dowry) agreements. These practices carry the weight of generations, but they also impose rigid timelines and unwritten rules. Once someone reaches their mid-20s, matchmaking inquiries intensify: relatives share proposals, neighbours speculate, and elders remind them that “the best matches won’t wait.”
Challenging these customs—whether by choosing a smaller guest list, selecting one’s own partner, or marrying later—can invite subtle criticism. Families worry about community reputation, fearing that a non-traditional wedding might spark gossip or tarnish their social standing. This tug-of-war between honouring heritage and pursuing personal happiness leaves many youths feeling caught in the middle, hesitant to disappoint their loved ones yet unwilling to compromise their own vision of a meaningful union.
Changing Priorities and Independence
Greater access to universities, online courses, and remote work has broadened horizons for Kashmiri youth. Many now see marriage as one chapter among many, rather than the defining event of early adulthood. Aspiring researchers pursue master’s degrees abroad; creative professionals take freelance gigs; entrepreneurs launch home-grown handicraftventures. These pursuits demand time, focus, and sometimes relocation—factors that naturally delay thoughts of settling down.
For young women in particular, the journey toward financial and emotional autonomy has become a rite of passage. They aspire to build professional identities, travel independently, and contribute to their communities before committing to marriage. This shift doesn’t reflect a rejection of partnership, but a desire to enter marriage as fully formed individuals, confident in their own abilities and values.
Social Media Influence
On platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp, young Kashmiri women are regularly exposed to viral #MeTooKashmir clips and survivor testimonies detailing physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and financial control—stories that leave many fearing they could face the same fate. At the same time, men encounter Facebook groups and Twitter threads dissecting high-court divorce rulings, hefty alimony awards, and property divisions, fuelling worries that marriage might become a severe financial burden as well as an emotional commitment.
Fear of Compatibility and Divorce
Conversations about mental health and relationship dynamics have become more open among Kashmir’s youth. Stories of couples struggling with misaligned expectations, communication breakdowns, or controlling behaviour are no longer hushed—they’re discussed among friends and sometimes even with counsellors. The prospect of a mismatched marriage, with limited options for separation, looms large in the minds of many.
The stigma surrounding divorce remains strong, making the stakes feel higher: a failed marriage can carry lasting social repercussions for both partners, especially women. To mitigate this risk, young people are seeking deeper emotional connections before saying “I do.” Premarital discussions about finances, household roles, and future plans are becoming more common, as is the idea of compatibility checks—whether through informal questionnaires or conversations guided by a trusted mentor.
Social Pressure Creates Anxiety
Despite these valid concerns, the pressure to marry by a certain age remains intense. At family gatherings, casual questions like “When is your turn?” or “Are you seeing anyone?” can trigger waves of self-doubt. Social media compounds the anxiety: scrolling through friends’ picture-perfect ceremonies can amplify fears of missing out or not measuring up.
Some youths respond by rushing into unions they’re not ready for, only to find themselves trapped in mismatched relationships. Others retreat entirely, opting out of the marriage conversation and focusing on careers or personal projects instead. In both cases, the
underlying anxiety persists, fueled by a sense that life’s most important decisions are being dictated by external timelines rather than internal readiness.
Rethinking “I Do”
Kashmiri youth aren’t rejecting marriage—they’re redefining it. They seek partnerships grounded in financial realism, cultural respect, and emotional authenticity. They want to enter marriage with confidence, not compulsion. For families and communities, the challenge lies in listening more and prescribing less—shifting the question from “When will you marry?” to “Are you ready?” Because a lasting “I do” begins not with tradition or obligation, but with two people fully prepared to share a life together.
Email:---------------------meersaqlain528727@gmail.com
The average wedding in Srinagar can easily surpass several lakhs of rupees when you factor in the cost of venue, catering, attire, jewellery, and gifts. Families often take on loans or deplete savings to host multi-day celebrations, only to discover that the expenses continue long after the last guest departs
Marriage has always been a cherished milestone in Kashmiri culture, marked by elaborate Wazwan feasts, vibrant Wanwun songs, and the warm embrace of extended family. Yet today, a growing number of young Kashmiris find themselves hesitating at the altar. It’s not that they don’t believe in love or lifelong companionship—it’s that the weight of financial burdens, cultural expectations, and shifting personal priorities has turned “I do” into “Oh no.”
Financial Pressures are too Heavy
The average wedding in Srinagar can easily surpass several lakhs of rupees when you factor in the cost of venue, catering, attire, jewellery, and gifts. Families often take on loans or deplete savings to host multi-day celebrations, only to discover that the expenses continue long after the last guest departs. Newlyweds may find themselves servicing debts while also saving for a home, contributing to relatives’ milestones, or supporting aging parents.
For many young men, the pressure to “provide” means securing a government job or a well-paid position—neither of which is guaranteed in a competitive market. Meanwhile, young women worry about the stigma of financial dependence: if they marry before establishing their own careers, they fear being seen as a burden rather than an equal partner. As rents climb and living costs rise, the prospect of committing to marriage without a solid financial cushion feels increasingly risky, prompting many to postpone or rethink the idea altogether.
The Weight of Cultural Expectations
Kashmiri weddings are woven from threads of history—arranged introductions, clan-based matches, and carefully negotiated waj (dowry) agreements. These practices carry the weight of generations, but they also impose rigid timelines and unwritten rules. Once someone reaches their mid-20s, matchmaking inquiries intensify: relatives share proposals, neighbours speculate, and elders remind them that “the best matches won’t wait.”
Challenging these customs—whether by choosing a smaller guest list, selecting one’s own partner, or marrying later—can invite subtle criticism. Families worry about community reputation, fearing that a non-traditional wedding might spark gossip or tarnish their social standing. This tug-of-war between honouring heritage and pursuing personal happiness leaves many youths feeling caught in the middle, hesitant to disappoint their loved ones yet unwilling to compromise their own vision of a meaningful union.
Changing Priorities and Independence
Greater access to universities, online courses, and remote work has broadened horizons for Kashmiri youth. Many now see marriage as one chapter among many, rather than the defining event of early adulthood. Aspiring researchers pursue master’s degrees abroad; creative professionals take freelance gigs; entrepreneurs launch home-grown handicraftventures. These pursuits demand time, focus, and sometimes relocation—factors that naturally delay thoughts of settling down.
For young women in particular, the journey toward financial and emotional autonomy has become a rite of passage. They aspire to build professional identities, travel independently, and contribute to their communities before committing to marriage. This shift doesn’t reflect a rejection of partnership, but a desire to enter marriage as fully formed individuals, confident in their own abilities and values.
Social Media Influence
On platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and WhatsApp, young Kashmiri women are regularly exposed to viral #MeTooKashmir clips and survivor testimonies detailing physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and financial control—stories that leave many fearing they could face the same fate. At the same time, men encounter Facebook groups and Twitter threads dissecting high-court divorce rulings, hefty alimony awards, and property divisions, fuelling worries that marriage might become a severe financial burden as well as an emotional commitment.
Fear of Compatibility and Divorce
Conversations about mental health and relationship dynamics have become more open among Kashmir’s youth. Stories of couples struggling with misaligned expectations, communication breakdowns, or controlling behaviour are no longer hushed—they’re discussed among friends and sometimes even with counsellors. The prospect of a mismatched marriage, with limited options for separation, looms large in the minds of many.
The stigma surrounding divorce remains strong, making the stakes feel higher: a failed marriage can carry lasting social repercussions for both partners, especially women. To mitigate this risk, young people are seeking deeper emotional connections before saying “I do.” Premarital discussions about finances, household roles, and future plans are becoming more common, as is the idea of compatibility checks—whether through informal questionnaires or conversations guided by a trusted mentor.
Social Pressure Creates Anxiety
Despite these valid concerns, the pressure to marry by a certain age remains intense. At family gatherings, casual questions like “When is your turn?” or “Are you seeing anyone?” can trigger waves of self-doubt. Social media compounds the anxiety: scrolling through friends’ picture-perfect ceremonies can amplify fears of missing out or not measuring up.
Some youths respond by rushing into unions they’re not ready for, only to find themselves trapped in mismatched relationships. Others retreat entirely, opting out of the marriage conversation and focusing on careers or personal projects instead. In both cases, the
underlying anxiety persists, fueled by a sense that life’s most important decisions are being dictated by external timelines rather than internal readiness.
Rethinking “I Do”
Kashmiri youth aren’t rejecting marriage—they’re redefining it. They seek partnerships grounded in financial realism, cultural respect, and emotional authenticity. They want to enter marriage with confidence, not compulsion. For families and communities, the challenge lies in listening more and prescribing less—shifting the question from “When will you marry?” to “Are you ready?” Because a lasting “I do” begins not with tradition or obligation, but with two people fully prepared to share a life together.
Email:---------------------meersaqlain528727@gmail.com
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