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Last year, when India’s richest man Mukesh Ambani’s son Anant Ambani got married, the world didn’t just watch, it gaped. Thanks to social media’s unstoppable reach, what unfolded was swiftly dubbed the “Indian wedding of the century”. From Bollywood A-listers to Hollywood legends, heads of state to tech billionaires, all descended decked in their Indian finery, dancing like there was no tomorrow.
For many ordinary folks who devoured every viral reel and paparazzi still, one question lingered: how could they, with simpler means, experience even a fraction of that euphoric blend of music, colour, and abandon, without the emotional and logistical tangle of an actual wedding?
Enter the unexpected party trend of the modern age – ‘Fake Sangeet’.
A sangeet is a high-energy pre-wedding party – full of music, dancing, and joy. Friends and family from both sides come together to celebrate the couple with choreographed dance performances, sing-alongs, and friendly dance-offs. Whether it’s with Punjab’s vibrant giddas and bhangras or Gujarat’s swirling garbas, the sangeet is meant to melt away awkwardness and stress, easing two families into a lifetime bond).
What began as playful mimicry soon mushroomed into a social phenomenon. Young people across the globe started hosting elaborate sangeet-style nights, complete with choreographers, confetti showers and high-gloss reels, all without a wedding to follow. It was all about having fun and immersing in traditions, but on their own terms, minus the weight of vows, family negotiations or actual commitment.
The anatomy of a Fake Sangeet
Typically held a day or two before the wedding, a traditional sangeet is deeply tied to the Indian wedding journey.
The fake sangeet however has no emotional strings attached to it. There is no bride-and-groom pair, no elders guiding the rituals, no anxious looks over who’ll host the next ceremony. Instead, it’s an immersive dance party dressed up as a sangeet, complete with Bollywood playlists, matching lehengas, choreographed group performances, photographers on standby, and drones ready to catch that sweeping aerial shot.
Saddi Galli, a Mumbai-based event company, was among the first to bring this trend into the spotlight. Its founder, Alisha Chowri, recalls her brother’s wedding was approaching, and she was so excited that she couldn’t stop talking about it with her friends. They turned the buzz into a full-scale event. “We’d only ever been to pool parties and clubs but this theme felt completely different, and we were eager to try it out.”
Their inaugural party turned out a runaway success, leaving them overbooked. “Off the back of that response, we’re now looking to expand and already fielding inquiries from across India,” says Chowri.
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The economics of going fake
Fake sangeets have turned into a surprising boon for the massive USD 130 billon Indian wedding industry. It has created a scope for extra gigs for choreographers, makeup artists, décor teams, lighting experts, DJs outside the typical November-February wedding boom. Many venues even offer three-hour slots for such gatherings, complete with stage lighting and confetti blasts and most importantly, a dhol!
Businesses are waking up to the potential of this new market. Saddi Galli even tied up with make-up brand Lakmé to set up complimentary stations for guests.
A social media strategist on anonymity notes, “In many ways, fake sangeets are more lucrative for brands. Real brides are exhausted, have strict schedules, and are focused on family. Fake sangeet hosts are purely there to create content. Every shot is product placement gold.”
This has also given rise to a parallel influencer market. Instagram creators collaborate with decor and clothing brands to host sponsored “sangeet nights” dressed up as personal celebrations, but in reality, slick content factories. The line between authentic joy and curated spectacle is getting blurred each day.
Fake Sangeet: Hollow, or harmless fun?
Not surprisingly, the fake sangeet trend has its share of critics. Many on social media roll their eyes at these gatherings. Comments under such reels often read, “This is cringe. Weddings aren’t cosplay.”
But for a large section of Gen Z and millennial partygoers, such criticism feels overblown. “Why not have fun? Who decided you can only do this if you’re getting married?” says Sudhanshu Joshi, a 26-year-old from Bengaluru after a fake sangeet birthday party. For him, it was simply a playful way to celebrate.
Taking the Fake Sangeet global: Australia and beyond
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The fake sangeet isn’t just thriving in India, it’s finding an eager audience across the Indian diaspora worldwide.
The fever has well and truly caught on in Australia, where fake sangeets are fast becoming the diaspora’s new favourite theme party. In Sydney, one cheeky invite is promising “the ultimate Bollywood party where the wedding is fake, but the vibes are 100% real,” luring folks into ornate lehengas and sherwanis to twirl under marigold canopies, line up for henna, and lose themselves in dhol beats at Potts Point next month.
Over in Canberra, later this month club Mezcals is throwing “Fake Shaadi” nights complete with DJs, dholis, best-dressed prizes and wedding-style décor, proving that sometimes all you really need is a dance floor and a good dose of desi nostalgia to keep traditions – real or not – very much alive.
In Dubai, event planners are now regularly organising “Bollywood Sangeet Nights” just for the fun of it. These aren’t always labelled as fake sangeets, but the blueprint is unmistakably same.
Bollywood wedding reels did spark something – now everyone wants a piece of that glamour. They want to reconnect with culture, dance to filmy hits, and post it all.
It’s also a way for the diaspora to merge identities. Dubai-based finance professional Ankita Sharma took along her non-Indian colleagues for one such gathering. “They were blown away by the colours, the energy. They didn’t care it wasn’t tied to an actual wedding. For them it was an epic theme party; for me, it was a way to celebrate my heritage without the emotional baggage.”
In Canada and the UK, where massive Indian communities flourish, similar trends are popping up. Toronto banquet halls advertise “sangeet-style packages” for anniversaries or corporate events. London’s Indian caterers report increasing demand for sangeet-themed parties among even non-Indian groups, purely because of how visually arresting and joyful they appear on social feeds.
It’s almost as though the sangeet has transcended its place in the wedding calendar to become a new kind of global cultural currency. In doing so, however, it inevitably boils down to choreo routines, sparkling lehengas and photogenic smiles, often stripped of the deeper intergenerational bonding that made traditional sangeets so poignant.
Fake Sangeet: Performance, nostalgia, or both?
The fake sangeet is both a symptom and a showcase of our hyper-visual, hyper-documented times.
One thing’s certain, however: as long as social media craves dance videos, and as long as desis crave belonging, whether through ritual, roots, or rhythm, the sangeet – fake or real – will keep twirling on. From Mumbai’s glittering ballrooms to Sydney’s backyard marquees, the beat goes on, and we’ll keep watching, liking, and maybe, next season, even dancing along.
READ MORE: Desi Oon brings Himalayan artisans Kullvi Whims to Australia
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