Call me biased, but I’ll take a Pakistani wedding over other nuptials any day.

The ordeal in Western weddings – complete with white gowns, bridesmaids, best men and sappy marriage vows – seems a tad too rehearsed, too pristine. The fact that people have wedding rehearsals is something counterintuitive to my idea of a wedding. How can one possibly plan out exactly what happens at a wedding? Where’s the fun, the spontaneity, the risk of it all? Weddings should not be so robotically planned that people forget to have fun.

I’m used to weddings that are colorful, loud and absolutely crazy. Think “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” on steroids – that’s what a Pakistani wedding is like. Instead of one big wedding day, the festivities back home last three days (and there might be pre-wedding parties thrown as well, the grandeur and lavishness of which give the official wedding days a run for their money). The bride traditionally wears red on the official day; she goes from her paternal home to her husband’s – a stark contrast to the pure white Vera Wangs I’ve seen on “Bridezillas.”

While the wedding days are an explosion of color, music and dancing, the preceding weeks of wedding preparation are in a league of their own.

During the weeks (sometimes even months) before the wedding, the houses of the bride and groom slowly but surely fill up to their maximum capacities. Moth-eaten mattresses are brought out of storage and forced onto any available floor space in the bedrooms. When the bedroom space runs out, the living room becomes a refugee camp; all the young’uns are shepherded into one space each night – a decision usually bemoaned by the man of the house, whose precious few hours of sleep are interrupted by the gossip and giggles of not-so-whispered chats in the living room. But those same conversations spread throughout the rest of the house, as new residents of each overflowing room excitedly discuss wedding preparations – everything from potential outfits to potential crushes glimpsed from across the shaadi hall.

There is no real concept of a wedding planner or a maid of honor. More often than not, it’s a team effort in which the bride or groom has little say, while the rest of the relatives meddle to their heart’s delight. Harried calls to the tailor, last-minute rushing off to the market for garlands or henna or food (because in the chaos of the moment, no one remembered to cook dinner) are the norm.

Young female cousins are usually seen preparing dances to boppy Bollywood tunes. The aunties are wrapping up presents for the soon-to-be-married couple. The uncles are walking around with cell phones stuck to their ears, belting out instructions to a driver, to a tailor or to their incompetent sons. The incompetent sons, when not getting in other people’s way, are rallying the troops for the bride and groom’s big entrance; and don’t even ask about the poor servants who are running back and forth like headless chickens, trying to keep up with a long list of demands from any family member squeezed into the house.

I miss weddings so much while I’m in D.C. that I tend to plan my holidays around family weddings back home. I come from a big family, and dorm life can be pretty lonely – so weddings are my favorite parts of the year. Despite the craziness and lack of personal space, everyone loves being around one another. Yes, everyone is in everyone else’s business, and cousins gang up on each other, everyone has to shout to be heard and there is no chance of even five minutes of silence – but I love it.

Hijab Shah is a junior in the School of Foreign Service. She can be reached at shahthehoya.com. Behind the Veil occurs every other Friday.

*To send a letter to the editor on a recent campus issue or Hoya story or a viewpoint on any topic, contact [opinionthehoya.com](opinionthehoya.com). Letters should not exceed 300 words, and viewpoints should be between 600 to 800 words.*”