A Bride Without Gold

Weddings come with traditions and expectations. Here’s a small choice I made on my Baraat day that carried a much bigger meaning for me.

It was my Baraat day. Moments before I was about to walk towards the stage to join my new husband, an aunty stopped me. She asked why she didn’t see any gold on me. I turned to her and said, I am not fond of gold and what it stands for on a personal level today. She looked confused, and I could understand why. For her, and for many in my own family, a bride without gold was almost unimaginable.

In our culture, gold is never just jewellery. It is a symbol of love, sacrifice, and security. Parents save for years to ensure their daughters are covered in it on their wedding day. Gold is thought of as a form of inheritance, a visible promise that a family has fulfilled its duty, and that a daughter enters her new life with something to hold on to. It is also the only truly tangible financial asset for many women.

So when I chose not to wear it, it unsettled some in my family. They worried how it would look. They wondered what people would say. The absence of gold, to them, was not simply a preference but a statement. It went against everything they had been taught to value and protect. And I understood them.

I understood when family members advocated for me to have gold as my own safety net. That was what they had been taught, that gold was a woman’s protection in uncertain times, one of the few things she could truly call her own. Their concern came not from vanity but from care, shaped by generations of lived reality where choices were limited and financial independence was rare.

But for me, the most valuable things my parents had given me were not material. They gave me an education that built my independence. They gave me the freedom to decide for myself. They gave me the confidence to stand by those decisions, even when they confused others. That was the inheritance I wanted most as I stepped into my marriage.

So on my Baraat day, I walked without gold. It was not rebellion. It was reflection. I wanted to honour my parents by carrying forward what they had given me in spirit rather than what they could place around my neck.

And, btw, I should say this: I enjoy jewellery. I enjoy statement pieces, fun ornaments, hoops and chains that feel playful and personal. I love the way fashion jewellery can lift an outfit or express a mood. It doesn’t mean I am sat on a high horse where I do not indulge in ornaments.

On my Baraat day, it was not about fashion. It was about symbolism and what pieces of gold represented to me on a personal level that day. And I feel grateful to have a husband and families on both sides who understood that choice.

Was there ever a tradition in your own milestone moments that didn’t feel authentic to you?