Shaadi Minus The Rishtedaar, Inside India’s Booming Fake Sangeet Party Scene

 

By now, you’ve probably seen them on Instagram: glittering lehengas, groomsmen in sunglasses doing coordinated dance moves, rose petals raining down on strangers. But wait a minute. There’s no bride or groom. No aunties crying near a mandap. Just a club full of happy people, pretending it’s someone's Big Fat Indian Wedding. Welcome to India’s latest party phenomenon: the fake sangeet. In 2025, while some people are putting off weddings due to commitment issues or cost, others are actively staging them... without the marriage part.

 

 

Among the early birds promoting this cultural mashup of nostalgia, satire, and sheer desi flamboyance are Daniyal Rawjee, co-founder of the Greater Hyderabad Music Circle (GHMC), and Sameer Shaikh of Dance Music Syndicate (DMS). The duo recently collaborated on a series of wildly popular fake sangeets at Warehouse 81 in Hyderabad. “We used to see people dressing up in traditional wear to go clubbing,” Daniyal (aka Dan) says. “So we thought, why not make a party out of it? We tweaked the venue, threw in classy wedding décor, a mehendi setup, and rose water being sprinkled on the guests.” Sameer adds, “Within a week of our announcement about three months ago, someone did a fake sangeet in Mumbai. It’s catching on. People show up with their parents now. We’ve had birthday celebrations mid-sangeet. It’s all quite wholesome. We did a fake sangeet in Pune, and another one on July 13 in Houston.”

 

 

It's no secret that real Indian weddings are stressful. The pressure to please every uncle, meet community expectations, and still find time to take a solo photo under the phoolon ki chhatri is enough to drive anyone to therapy. “The older generation has a certain notion of how people must behave,” says Dan. “Gen Z doesn’t abide by that. They want the fun without the function, the baraat without the baggage.” In a time when the wedding industrial complex is getting more expensive, elaborate, and emotionally draining, these events offer a kind of cheeky, collective catharsis.

 

 

Imagine a Saturday night at a venue that used to be a grungy warehouse. Now it’s decked out in marigolds and fairy lights. The bartender is dressed like a pandit. A choreographed flash mob erupts to Gallan Goodiyan. Nobody’s family is getting richer by marriage, but everyone’s serotonin levels are off the charts. “Everyone showed up in traditional clothes. It is kinda crazy to see that in a club,” says Rishi Billore, a consultant at one of the Big 4 firms. “I loved moving to the Bollywood songs you'd normally hear in a shaadi or sangeet.” Even skeptics are being won over. Pranav Vael, founder of sustainable menswear label The Timber Tribe, initially came just to see what the fuss was about. “I’m not a big fan of sangeet music,” he admits. “But it was amazing to see everyone decked up and genuinely having fun. The decor changes every time. Plus, the DJ line-up was great.”

 

 

Each edition tries to top the last. Think mehendi booths with temporary tattoos, dholwalas leading fake baraats, and “varmala” moments staged just for the gram. In fact, Dan hints at an actual planned baraat for an upcoming event. It’s not just a party. It’s immersive theatre-meets-nostalgia-fueled escapism. And, there’s also gulab jamun. Says DJ Sachin Chhabra from Mumbai, “It’s about creating a shared memory. People miss weddings. Or they don’t get invited to the fun ones. So this is their shot at dancing under disco balls dressed like a baraati, minus the family politics.”

 

 

From Hyderabad to Houston, the fake sangeet is no longer just an underground phenomenon. It’s becoming a genre of its own. You know how some people go to Comic-Con? This is the desi version, except everyone is in ethnic wear and there’s more dancing. Underneath the sequins and dance medleys lies something telling about modern Indian youth. These parties reflect a generation trying to reclaim cultural joy on its own terms. No forced rishta meetings. No seating chart chaos. Just joy, friends, music, and maybe a fake bride doing a solo on Ila Arun's Ghagra song.” In some ways, fake sangeets are a rebellion with glitter. They’re also Indian at heart: part performance, part emotion, and all-in for the vibe. So will we ever see fake haldi ceremonies? Mock vidaais with a confetti cannon? Probably. But for now, the fake sangeet is the celebration we didn’t know we needed. Sometimes, it’s not about finding your other half. It’s about finding your joota-hiding squad, twirling in your lehenga, and singing off-key with a room full of strangers who feel like family.