After a seven-month long saga of celebrations, Anant Ambani and Radhika Merchant were finally wed in Mumbai on July 12. The pre-wedding festivities included an unprecedented extravaganza in Jamnagar, where the Airforce station was opened to civilian private jets, a four-day luxury cruise to the Mediterranean, and multiple events at the wedding itself. Apart from the usual Indian celebrities, international stars like Rihanna, Justin Bieber, Kim Kardashian, Bill Gates and Ivanka Trump — among many others — were in attendance. Prime Minister Modi attended the reception.
The estimated cost of the entire wedding was Rs 5,000 crores, with eyes agog at Nita Ambani’s emerald necklace said to be worth Rs 500 crores. The wedding has been described as the “Shaadi of the Year”, whose every star-studded aspect became a media obsession.Who were invited, who wore what, what food was served, were questions that kept the nation glued to this great show of power and limitless wealth by Asia’s richest man.
For ordinary people, reactions have been mixed. Some have found the endless display of money vulgar. Others felt that the sheer magnitude of the celebrations was inappropriate in a country where so many still struggle for two meals a day. However, many argued that if the Ambanis have the money, why should they not spend it? As a proportion of their net wealth, what they spent was less than a pittance. Some ascribed criticism to envy, and still others felt that it had boosted employment in the growing sector of the marriage, hotel and food industries.
The fact is that weddings have become a spectacle. This applies both to affluent families and the middle class, and now imposes a great burden on the poor, where the girl’s family has to arrange for a “suitable” wedding, while also coping with the still pervasive demands of dowry. According to one survey, families — cutting across class — spend up to 33 per cent of their savings on a wedding. Gone are the days when this ceremony used to be a simple one-day affair. Now, families vie with each other to make the occasion a projection of wealth and status. There are live performers, DJs, lavish decorations, tables heaving with food, and multiple over-the-top events. In destination weddings entire five-star hotels are booked. Wedding planners and event managers are much in demand. If we turn the mirror on ourselves, what have the Ambanis, infinitely richer, done wrong?
There is also another important question. Are Indians inclined to be abstemious, with an aversion to pomp and ostentation? We believe we are, and often flaunt our spiritual halo and expound on the Gandhian emphasis on simplicity and frugality. But actually, we like money, and show exceptional skills in situations of considerable adversity to make it by our resilient entrepreneurship. No wonder than that Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity, is one of our most ubiquitous deities, and adorns the puja room of almost every Hindu home. Once we have the money, we temperamentally like exhibitionism and flamboyance. After all, what is money for if it cannot be displayed?
Our politicians, who bow in obeisance to Mahatma Gandhi, are no exception. They live in luxurious bungalows, love their sirens and armed escorts, and do not really have the reputation of being short of money when they expound on the need to eradicate poverty. Perhaps due to the demands of protocol, the President of the republic lives in the world’s largest palace. And the PM and vice-president will shortly move into palatial new residences built for them.
Who is there then to be a role model for the middle-ground between wealth and restraint, money and gracious simplicity? Our ancient texts always emphasised that there must be the right balance between Lakshmi and Sarasvati — wealth and wisdom. In the Hindu worldview, wealth is not reviled. In fact, artha, or the importance of material well-being is one of the four highest purusharthas or goals of life, along with dharma, kaama and moksha. But equally, these same texts stress the importance of proportion and balance, of viveka or discrimination, so that no one of these goals is followed in an uncontrolled manner. In the case of the valid pursuit of prosperity, if this balance is lost, the vulgarity of wealth will inevitably — and brazenly — overwhelm discrimination and moderation.
This self-restraint required to curb the temptation to outrageously flaunt wealth is particularly relevant in our country, where the vast majority still lives in unacceptable poverty and deprivation. When those at the bottom of the pyramid watch the unrestrained shenanigans of the rich, they must be wondering if they belong to this new “shining” India, where the world’s third largest number of billionaires coexist with the globe’s largest number of the poor.
The rich have the right to display their wealth. But ultimately, it is every individual’s choice to strike the right balance between affluence and social responsibility. Reliance Foundation has a good record in Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR), and has won national and international acclaim for its charitable works. However, if from the estimated Rs 5,000 crores spent on the wedding, the Ambanis would have allocated half to their charitable foundation, they would still have had a lavish wedding, while becoming greater leaders in needed philanthropy, thereby adding to their corporate brand, and generating far more genuine blessings for the newly-weds.
Before leaping to hasty condemnation, all of Indian society needs to introspect. What would we have done, if we had the Ambanis’ wealth, at the weddings of our own sons and daughters? In fact, what do we still do, with far lesser resources, on such occasions at our own levels? The younger generation needs to be the catalyst for change. If it resolves to reduce the uncontrolled band-baaja of weddings, and opts for a simpler and more dignified ceremony, then alone will things change. But this is a distant revolution. The ugly truth is that most young men are complicit in the demand for dowry, and want a grandiose wedding, mostly at the expense of the girl’s family. Kaiser Jaafri’s lines come to my mind: “Kisko patthar marun, Kaiser, kaun paraya hai, sheesh mahal mein ik ik chehra apna lagta hai; at whom should I throw a stone who is not like me, in this mirrored palace each face looks like me.”
