Persian wedding

I got the wedding invitation through wedding card, like most things these days. It was a cute card with the couple’s names written in both English and Persian, along with the date, time, and address of the venue.

I wasn’t super close with the couple but in their culture, Persian wedding is big. Everyone gets invited. I wasn’t going to say no to good food, dancing, and a night out.

When I arrived, the parking lot was already packed. People were pulling up in their cars, dressed up in suits, dresses, heels — some formal, some more laid-back. The entrance was busy with relatives greeting each other, hugs and kisses on both cheeks, a lot of "salaam" and “khosh amadid” (welcome). A few older women were already seated near the door, watching everyone come in like they were keeping track.

Inside, the hall was decorated nicely but nothing over-the-top — white and gold chairs, tables covered with clean cloths, some fresh flower arrangements in the center. At the front was a small stage with a mirror, candles, and traditional items laid out neatly — that was the Sofreh Aghd, the wedding spread.

I found my table, said hi to a few people I hadn’t seen ever, and sat down. Everyone was dressed up, taking selfies, catching up on gossip. There were some aunties already dancing a little near the DJ table, moving their hands to the beat even before things officially started.

After a while, the lights dimmed and music played. The bride and groom made their entrance to clapping and cheers. The bride wore a beautiful white dress — not too flashy — with light makeup and her hair done nicely under a soft veil. The groom looked sharp in a dark suit. They walked slowly to the Sofreh and sat down.

The Aghd (Marriage contract)

Then came the wedding ceremony — the Aghd. The officiant started reading in Farsi, saying blessings and prayers. It was pretty quiet in the room while everyone watched. There was a funny moment when the bride was asked if she accepted the groom, and she stayed quiet — on purpose, part of the tradition. People laughed and cheered when she finally said “baleh,” yes.

Then came more clapping, music, and people going up to congratulate the couple. Some gave small gifts or envelopes with money. A line formed for photos, like always.

Dinner came not long after — and it was exactly what I hoped for. Plates of rice with barberries, chicken kabob, beef stew, salad shirazi, mast-o-khiar (yogurt with cucumber). Everyone piled their plates, and of course, there were people going back for seconds. The food is half the reason people show up to weddings, honestly.

After eating, the music got louder and the real dancing started. Persian music, some pop, some old-school classics. A few people started the dance floor, then more and more joined. I ended up pulled in by my friend, and we danced for a while with a group of others — hands in the air, shoulder rolls, spinning in circles. The bride even changed into a lighter dress so she could dance more easily.

knife dance

At some point, they did the knife dance — where a woman dances with the cake knife and teases the groom until he offers her money to give it up. It was funny and light-hearted. Then they cut the cake, handed out slices, and the dancing kept going. Kids were running around, people were taking videos, and the energy in the room just kept rising.

By midnight, some people had already left, but others were still going strong. I said my goodbyes to the family, took a couple last photos, and headed out. My feet were sore from dancing, my stomach was full, and I had the lingering smell of kebab and rosewater on my clothes.