Chief Minister Omar Abdullah’s remarks that Jammu and Kashmir has the potential to become the country’s “Destination Wedding Capital” sounds grand on stage, but on the ground it feels more like a cruel joke. Of course, no one doubts Kashmir’s natural splendour which is called the ‘Switzerland of the East’ —the Dal Lake shimmering under a golden sunset, Pahalgam meadows wrapped in velvet green, the towering mountains providing a cinematic backdrop for royalty and union of two souls. But weddings in today’s world don’t happen on postcards. They happen in real places, with real needs and that’s where Abdullah’s remark collapses under its own weight and could well get lost in translation. Let us be blunt: destination weddings demand more than beauty. They demand reliability of services and dependability of staff. Imagine a bride stepping out in her lehenga only to find the venue plunged into darkness by yet another power cut. Or guests stranded on the Srinagar-Jammu National Highway, which shuts down so often it might as well come with a “Closed for Weddings” sign. Flights to Srinagar, too, are priced like ransom notes, with cancellations as routine as the weather. No family spending crores on a wedding will gamble on such chaos. Then comes infrastructure—or rather, the lack of it. Where are the five-star hotels in sufficient numbers to host hundreds of guests? Where are the banquet halls, the uninterrupted internet, the reliable catering chains, the logistics companies that make weddings run like clockwork? In Kashmir, even basic civic services struggle to function without hiccups. Yet we are asked to imagine the Valley competing with Rajasthan’s palaces, Goa’s beaches, or Kerala’s resorts. It’s like comparing a cart track with an expressway. And what about perception? A single protest, a sudden strike call, or a security alert can paralyse life here overnight. Who in their right mind would plan a wedding under such uncertainty? Families want time of solace and laughter, not turbulence. They want music, not the rumours of floods. Abdullah’s vision overlooks this very real anxiety that has come to define tourism in recent years. For Abdullah to speak of J&K as a destination for weddings while ignoring these shortcomings is not ambition—it is escapism. It is easier to sell dreams of foreign tourists and celebrity weddings than to fix roads, build power grids, and ensure daily stability. But without those basics, such dreams are hollow. Kashmir is a paradise, yes. But until our rulers don’t commit to work for people and not their own needs, we will remain just that: a place for postcards, not pheras. Till that day, Abdullah’s “Destination Wedding Capital” vision will belong in the league of political fantasies.