When Nikah gets Delayed: A Growing Kashmiri Dilemma

Late marriages in Kashmir have quietly moved from being an exception to becoming a worrying social trend. Walk through any mohalla in Srinagar or a village in north or south Kashmir, and you will hear the same concern in different homes: “Bachhi ki umar nikal rahi hai, ladka mil nahi raha,” or “Naukri ka kya karein, shaadi kaise karein?” Behind these simple sentences lies a complex crisis that is reshaping our society. A growing and visible reality Unlike earlier generations, where most boys and girls were married in their early or mid‑twenties, it is now common to find men unmarried well into their thirties and women crossing what society still calls the “marriageable age.” Parents who once started searching for matches soon after graduation now wait years, blocked by economic pressure, unrealistic expectations, and social stigma. The signs are visible everywhere. In marriage bureaus and online match‑making groups, profiles mention age 30, 32, 35 as if it is normal, yet inside the family there is constant anxiety. Many girls silently battle taunts and whispers from relatives and neighbours. Many boys carry the burden of being “unsettled” because they do not have a stable job or a secure income. Why are marriages getting delayed? There is no single reason. Late marriages in Kashmir sit at the intersection of economics, culture, education and changing aspirations.

1. Economic insecurity: The biggest factor people mention is simple: ‘rozi‑roti’. With limited government jobs and an uncertain private sector, thousands of educated youth remain unemployed or under‑employed. Families hesitate to fix marriages for sons who have no permanent job. Grooms themselves feel guilty about “bringing someone’s daughter home” without being able to provide. On the other side, some families expect very high financial stability from prospective grooms – government post, own house, car and a good bank balance. This combination of insecurity and expectation keeps proposals hanging for years.

 

2. Dowry and extravagant weddings: Although we often deny it, dowry and show‑off have become a heavy burden. Gold, furniture, branded items, lavish wazwan, decorated halls, photography, music – each adds a layer of cost. Many families of brides feel crushed under the weight of expectations. Some keep delaying their daughters’ marriages while parents try to “arrange” the dowry and grand function society has normalised. This culture hurts both sides. Families of grooms also feel pressure to match the social standard of big functions. Instead of being a simple sunnah, marriage has become a public event to display status.

 

3. Unreasonable demands and checklists: In many cases, proposals break not because of basic incompatibility, but because of long, unrealistic checklists. Colour, height, job profile, family status, property, caste, place of residence – every box must be ticked. A teacher is rejected because someone wants a doctor. A girl with good character and education is refused because her family is not “well‑off enough” or because she is a year or two older than the ideal age fixed in someone’s mind. By the time families realise they have been too rigid, their children have crossed 30.

 

4. Changing education and aspirations: Higher education is a positive development, especially for girls. More Kashmiri women are pursuing degrees, professional courses and careers. This should strengthen families and society. But when parents insist that girls must complete several degrees before marriage, and then demand a “perfect match” equal or above in every way, years go by. For boys, the pressure runs in the opposite direction: finish studies, find a job, build a house, stabilise income – only then think of marriage. In our uncertain economy, this can take far longer than it did for previous generations.

  The human cost behind the statistics Behind every “late marriage case” is a human story. Young women who dreamt of a simple, loving home now fight loneliness, anxiety and self‑doubt as birthdays pass and relatives stop asking about their future. Some develop health issues, depression or lose interest in social life. Many young men delay marriage due to genuine financial constraints, but with time they also lose confidence. They slowly withdraw from gatherings, feel ashamed to attend weddings, and start believing that they have failed at life. Parents carry their own pain. A mother who watches her daughter growing older at home, despite receiving and rejecting proposals for years, often blames herself. A father who cannot arrange the kind of dowry or house society demands feels humiliated in silence. What is rarely discussed is how late marriages can affect physical and mental health, family stability and even demographic patterns. Fertility issues, smaller family size, increased loneliness in old age and a rising sense of frustration among youth are all connected to this phenomenon. Religion, culture and misplaced pride Islam encourages early and simple marriages. The life of the Prophet (PBUH) and the teachings of our faith clearly discourage dowry, extravagance, and pride over wealth and status. Yet our social practice often moves in the opposite direction. We proudly quote hadith about nikah being half of faith, but when it is time to marry off our children, we ask first about salary slips and property documents. We condemn dowry in public speeches, but in private conversations we quietly ask, “Kitna denge?” This gap between belief and behaviour is at the heart of the crisis. We have turned marriage from an ibadat (act of worship) into a business transaction and a social show. What can be done? Late marriages are not just a “private family issue.” They are a social problem with social solutions. Some steps are within the reach of ordinary people if there is will and courage: Simplify weddings: Families, religious leaders and local committees can collectively agree to reduce the scale of marriage functions – fewer dishes, modest decorations, limited guests. A simple nikah and a dignified, basic feast is fully in line with our faith. End dowry culture in practice, not only in words: Men and their families must clearly refuse dowry. Parents of boys should feel honoured, not insulted, to accept a daughter‑in‑law without material gifts. Soften our expectations: Instead of chasing perfect resumes, we should focus on character, deen, compatibility and basic livelihood. A good teacher, a small shopkeeper, a nurse or a junior employee can be as good a spouse as a doctor or a top‑grade officer. Community support and match‑making: Masjid committees, mohalla groups and NGOs can maintain transparent, confidential databases to help families find suitable matches without middlemen who often exploit emotions. Counselling and awareness: Ulema, counsellors and local influencers can talk openly about the harms of late marriage – not to shame individuals, but to push society to rethink its habits. Time for honest introspection It is easy to blame “the system” or “today’s youth” for everything. But late marriages in Kashmir are, in many ways, a mirror of our collective choices. Every time we reject a proposal over minor status differences, every time we demand more jewellery or a bigger function, every time we postpone marriage for the sake of show, we add one more brick to this wall. If we truly care for our sons and daughters, we must have the courage to go against unhealthy social expectations. A simple, timely marriage built on mutual respect is far better than a delayed, heavy marriage arranged after years of stress. Kashmir stands at a turning point. We can continue down a path where marriage becomes harder, later and more complicated, or we can return to the values our faith and culture originally taught us – simplicity, modesty and compassion. The choice, ultimately, lies in our own homes.   (Author is Asst professor sociology in HED)