The world outside the dressing room was a riotous, dizzying swirl of wedding madness. Aunties were shrieking across the halls, accusing each other of misplacing the haldi bowls that were, of course, clutched firmly in their own hands. Uncles stood in small, heated clusters, debating whether this wedding could possibly outshine Sharma ji’s daughter’s extravaganza from last year. A tiny child darted between legs, squealing as she tried to evade the clutches of a bua whose arms smelled strongly of attar and possessed an undeniable penchant for cheek-pinching. Above it all, the DJ cranked Banno Tera Swagger with such enthusiasm that it might as well have been declared the national anthem of the season.

This was wedding season at its absolute peak—chaotic, colorful, loud, and utterly intoxicating.