Days of the wedding cassette

Revisiting an old wedding cassette is still one of the most exciting rituals in my home. Every time it plays, I feel myself sinking into a whirlpool of nostalgia. My parents’ wedding photos and videos were simple captures of the event — unlike today, when the entire thing is staged for the camera. Back then, a photographer simply arrived, took a few unposed shots of the bride and groom, clicked random guests who instantly froze and stared straight into the lens, captured a ritual or two, photographed the long food table lined with steel buckets and banana leaves, people eating under the bright tube-lights — and that alone counted as a complete wedding album. Even the gifts from the bride’s side were dutifully recorded, as if documenting every item was essential to preserving the day.

The video had its own innocent charm, a relic from a time when weddings were more ritual than performance, before Bollywood-style choreography replaced devotional music. It was filmed in pure Doordarshan documentary fashion, stitched together with three Nagore Hanifa songs looping in the background. Random transitions of trees, waterfalls, swans, and floating flowers were added to “connect” the couple — as if nature itself had turned up to bless the union. It feels unintentionally funny today, even slightly cringe, but beneath all the amusement lies a sincerity that’s impossible to recreate.

And of course, these were the days of VCRs, not CDs or digital files. The wedding cassette had only one purpose: to be watched once every few years.

We were witnessing a legacy. A slice of our family’s history. A portrait of our parents, untouched by filters, retakes, choreography, or aesthetics. Something raw. Something rooted. In that Doordarshan-style glare — in those shaky frames and innocent edits — lies a truth most modern, perfectly curated weddings can never replicate. It is imperfect.

But it is ours. Original. Honest. Eternal.

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