Why making wedding guests wait for hours has become Kashmir’s most accepted discourtesy

The Forgotten Etiquette of Kashmir’s Wedding Season: keeping people waiting is not merely poor etiquette — it is a sign of disrespect for others’ time and dignity

Three Hours Late: Have We Lost Respect for Time? Why making guests wait for hours has become one of the most accepted forms of discourtesy during Kashmir’s wedding season.

Yesterday, during my routine visit to the hospital where I see patients, I walked into the consultation room of my colleague, Dr Ahmad (name changed). It was peak outpatient hours. Patients were waiting outside. To my surprise, I found him momentarily dozing in his chair. That was unusual. I have known him for years. He is conscientious, meticulous, punctual, has clean habits and etiquette, and rarely appears tired during work. I assumed he must have been unwell.

He immediately woke up as I entered, shook his head, rubbed his eyes, apologised, and resumed seeing his patients.

After the clinic became less crowded, as colleagues often do, after finishing patient appointments, usually during the lunch break, we settled into our customary conversation about the halat-e-hazara—our views on the state of civil affairs, healthcare, and the news around us. While we talked, I noticed him again struggling to keep his eyes open. This time I could not resist asking.

“What is the matter? Are you alright?”

His answer was simple but revealing.

“Yesterday I attended a wedding. The invitation asked guests to arrive at 2:00 p.m. We reached on time. The food was finally served close to 5:00 p.m. By the time we returned home, the whole day had been disrupted. I hardly slept properly, and today I am paying the price.”

We both laughed, but only for a moment. Because the story was not really about one tired doctor. It was about all of us.

As I drove home, I realised that this weekend alone, thousands of families across Kashmir would attend weddings. Every invitation card would proudly mention a time. Thousands of guests would honour that time. Yet, in countless marriage halls, they would sit waiting—not for ten or fifteen minutes, but for two or three hours before the meal was served.

Curiously, nobody seems surprised anymore.

We have accepted waiting as if it were an inseparable part of marriage etiquette.

But should we?

A Strange Social Contradiction

What baffles me often at such occasions is this. Our society has become remarkably punctual whenever there are consequences. We reach airports hours before departure. We report on time for examinations. We do not expect trains or flights to wait for us. We are careful not to miss hospital appointments, court hearings, interviews, or official meetings.

Yet, once we enter a marriage hall, the clock appears to lose all meaning. An invitation that says 2:00 p.m. silently translates into 4:30 or 5:00 p.m. For ladies it is much worse—4:30 p.m. invitation, with no mention whether it is lunch or dinner, and it becomes 9:00 p.m. or, in certain cases, stretches to 11:00 p.m.

Everyone knows it. Hosts know it. Guests know it. Caterers know it.

Yet every wedding event or weekend saals party, we collectively repeat the same charade.

Why print a time that nobody intends to honour?

None realises the hidden cost of waiting. Many dismiss this as a trivial inconvenience. It is not.

Among the guests are elderly people with arthritis who cannot sit for hours on plastic chairs. There are diabetic patients who carefully regulate meal timings. Children become hungry and irritable. Infants cry. Pregnant women become exhausted. Visitors from distant districts face long journeys home. Working professionals have duties the following morning. Doctors begin clinics. Nurses report for duty. Teachers enter classrooms. Drivers begin long routes. Police personnel take charge. Journalists meet deadlines.

A delay of three hours at a wedding does not end at the wedding hall. It quietly spills into the next day, affecting work, health, efficiency, and family life.

So, what is trending? With biometric attendance, all office-goers feel troubled, so they avoid going to such events.

As a surgeon, I know how even mild sleep deprivation impairs concentration, judgment, and decision-making. Fatigue is not merely discomfort; it has measurable consequences. While Dr. Iftikhar’s brief doze made for an amusing anecdote, the underlying message was serious.

Time lost is energy lost. You lose that punch to work.

Has Waiting Become Fashion?

What explains this peculiar habit?

Partly, it is our obsession with appearances. Some hosts delay serving food until the hall “looks full.” Some wait for a VIP. Others fear that early serving might suggest poor attendance. Photographers demand dramatic crowd shots before dinner begins. Relatives advise, “Wait a little longer; more guests are coming.”

Meanwhile, hundreds who arrived on time become unwilling prisoners of someone else’s calculations.

Ironically, the very guests whom the hosts wish to honour are the ones being inconvenienced.

To me, hospitality is not decoration.

Our weddings have become increasingly elaborate. Designer décor. Grand entrances. Professional photography. Drone cameras. LED screens. Luxury dining arrangements.

There is nothing inherently wrong with celebration. Weddings are among life’s happiest occasions.

But somewhere in this race for grandeur, we seem to have forgotten the essence of hospitality.

A guest remembers warmth far longer than flowers. A guest remembers courtesy more than chandeliers. A guest remembers being respected—not being kept waiting.

Hospitality is not measured by the number of dishes served. It is measured by how the guest feels.

This piece is not against celebrations or events like pre-wedding shoots, but a humble reminder of the forgotten value of time.

Time is the only resource equally distributed to every human being. The rich cannot buy more of it. The poor cannot borrow it. Every unnecessary hour we waste is an hour taken from someone’s family, work, study, rest, or worship.

When hundreds of guests each lose three hours, the cumulative loss amounts to hundreds of human-hours wasted in a single afternoon. Imagine multiplying that across an entire wedding season in Kashmir. The figure becomes staggering.

Our faith teaches better. The language everyone understands and must follow places immense value on punctuality, keeping promises, and honouring guests.

The Qur’an commands believers to fulfil their commitments: “O you who believe! Fulfil your obligations.” (Qur’an)

The Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said: “The signs of a hypocrite are three: when he speaks, he lies; when he promises, he breaks his promise; and when entrusted, he betrays the trust.” (Sahih al-Bukhari and Sahih Muslim).

An invitation carries an implied promise. It tells the guest, “Please come at this time.”

If the actual programme begins three hours later, we should ask ourselves whether we have honoured that promise.

Likewise, the Prophet (SAW) repeatedly emphasised honouring one’s guest. Honour is not expressed by making a guest wait in discomfort. It is expressed through consideration, ease, and thoughtful care.

Religion is not confined to prayer mats. It is reflected in everyday manners.

A culture worth changing

As the wedding season reaches its peak, particularly over weekends, this appeal is made in the hope that it may touch a few hearts.

Shayad baat dil tak utar jaye, aur ikhlaq badal jaye—perhaps the message will resonate, and with it, our habits.

If that happens, we would not merely be saving time; we would be restoring respect, courtesy, and the true spirit of Kashmiri hospitality.

Thankfully, this is one social habit that can be corrected without legislation, committees, or expenditure.

Print realistic timings. Coordinate better with caterers. If lunch is at 4:00 p.m., write 4:00 p.m. If unavoidable delays occur, inform waiting guests honestly. Begin serving on time instead of waiting endlessly for a handful of late arrivals. Those who habitually arrive late should bear the consequences of their own delay—not everyone else’s.

Respecting punctual guests encourages punctuality. Rewarding latecomers discourages it.

To me and many others, the real measure of a wedding is hijacked.

As I left the hospital yesterday, I reflected on my colleague’s brief doze. It was not a sign of laziness. It was a symptom of a social habit that has become so common that we no longer question it.

Perhaps that tired doctor unknowingly reminded me of something much larger.

Civilised societies are not recognised merely by wider roads, taller buildings, or lavish celebrations. They are recognised by small courtesies that demonstrate respect for one another.

There is an old saying: “The guest is a blessing.”

A blessing should not be kept waiting.

No one suggests that weddings should become mechanical affairs. Delays caused by unforeseen circumstances can happen anywhere. But when every invitation says 2:00 p.m. while everyone privately knows dinner will begin three hours later, the invitation itself loses its meaning.

Perhaps it is time to start a new tradition.

Respecting another person’s time is among the finest of those courtesies.

This wedding season, as invitations continue to arrive in our homes, let us remember that the most memorable hosts are not those who spend the most money. They are those who keep their word.

If the invitation says 2 pm, let lunch be served at 2 pm.

Because punctuality is not about the clock. It is about character.

And perhaps the greatest hospitality we can offer our guests costs nothing at all—it is simply the courtesy of respecting their time.

(The author is a medico, healthcare policy analyst, and an independent columnist writing on healthcare, governance, public policy, and social issues.)