Judge less | The Ambani pre-wedding bash in India

Hi! My name is Anu Prabhala and I am a senior writer with the World Bank. I believe that the world is a small place and that we are all way more alike than different. Let’s have fun together, muddling meaningfully through this imperfectly perfect life.

Dear friends,

As I age, I find it most helpful to be less judgmental in life.

Of course, we have to constantly make judgments on what’s right or wrong for us in life, but being less judgmental about people and situations helps maintain inner peace and equanimity or samatva buddhi as the Bhagavad Geeta calls it. It’s not easy—I am prone to overthinking, have opinions, and don’t fear expressing myself (thanks, dad!). But it’s work in progress, and an attempt at spiritual growth.  

With that in mind, I’ll admit, I was as mesmerized as the rest of the world with the over-the-top glamor, glitz, and opulence of the $121 million pre-wedding bash of Anant Ambani and Radhika Merchant that just wound up in Jamnagar, India. The celebration featured guests like Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and Ivanka Trump in sparkling regal attire. Anant Ambani, for those of you who don’t know, is the son of Asia’s richest man, Mr. Mukesh Ambani, whose net worth is $83.6 billion.

The “Mela Rouge” was one of the lavish fairy-tale like events at the 2-day pre-wedding bash of Anant Ambani and his sweetheart, Radhika Merchant, and featured real roses in shades of red, white, and pink, along with stunning gold decor to enhance the ambiance (picture credit: News 18). This picture gives you a flavor of the luxurious extravagance of Ambani events. See fellow Substacker, Raj Menon’s capture of some more key moments at the wedding.

Coming to the point of this post…

In social circles, What’s App groups, and even the international media, the buzz has a righteous ring: how in the world can this family spend so sinfully on a personal event, and why in heaven’s name would they spend so much? Especially when 700 million people worldwide live in extreme poverty, 40% of which live in their own native India, the millions spent could be channeled towards more meaningful causes.

A few years back, I’d have entertained the same train of thought.

This time around, while I still acknowledge it as a legitimate line of questioning and enjoy a at light-hearted chuckle at the characteristic opulence of an Ambani event, I will not judge. Here’s why.

First, it’s all a matter of degree, isn’t it? I felt like the family heiress, Nita Ambani a few times in my life, albeit a lot (lot, lot) poorer and totally precious rock-less. For context, Nita gets the most media attention for her exquisite traditional fashion sense, glittering rocks worth millions adorning her, and it is rumored that she never repeats a sari or a pair of shoes—both typically worth several thousand dollars at least—once worn.

For example, when I was treated last year at a fancy place in Mumbai to a $250 dinner for 3, I was Nita Ambani compared to the skillful accordion player there who probably earns $200 a month. When I spent Rs. 15,000 on purchasing a kanjeevaram sari in India, I was Nita Ambani compared to my family friend, name withheld, who hit hard times and only earns a salary of Rs. 8,000 a month as a pre-school care worker supporting a family of three. When I jet set to India once or twice a year, I think of our household help who once asked for a loan of Rs. 5,000 to take a bus to her village to visit an ailing relative. For that matter, the size of my home in America for a family of three is a gross indulgence in the eyes of many in India, who live with thrice the number of people in one-third the space available to us.

So, shouldn't we each be held to the same level of moral accountability in our lives, compared to lesser financially endowed people around us?

So while the reigning meme on Nita’s chunky emerald necklace at the pre-wedding party potentially solving Pakistan’s economic crisis is chuckle worthy, I’ll leave it there and tune my mind to discuss Nita’s grace and strength as a mother, who took it upon herself to dance a hard number at her age for her son’s wedding; the work she is doing trying to uplift the profile of Indian women textile weavers; and the confidence, poise, and elegance she exudes in her public speeches and appearances.  As a mother, she must have suffered like many moms of the world raising a son with ongoing health issues. Yes, Anant, the groom-to-be confessed at one of his speeches that his childhood asthma and steroid treatments triggered a lifelong struggle with obesity.

So, the family’s tale is at some level, an imperfectly perfect one despite the riches. And, there may be more imperfections we may not be aware of in their life, just as no one really knows the reality behind the closed doors of our own families.

Looking at the world with love is a far more productive exercise than being in the seat of judgment.

Second, they are (charitable) humans, just like us. They may be supremely rich humans worth billions living in an ultra-luxurious life in a cantilevered skyscraper that lifts all of its 27-floors gloriously towards the Mumbai sky—a sight which by the way, I pass every year a few times on my trip to my birth home in Mumbai. But they are nevertheless humans. They experience the same range of emotions as we all do. We witnessed Asia’s richest father tear up at his son’s speech about how animals brought him solace during his escapades of imperfect health. We witnessed plenty of love, camaraderie, and tradition in the family, even as they stepped out on every occasion draped in clothes worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, leaving us wide eyed and open mouthed.

It’s easy to point the finger at the multi-million-dollar extravagance, but I question the exercise and the energy expended in the exercise. What do we gain at the end of the day about complaining about the lifestyle of others?

Also note, the Ambanis are among the top charitable donors in India and their weddings and festivities are known to inject a heavy dose of economic activity and employment in the local economy. The Jamnagar pre-wedding celebrations created jobs, from local dancers greeting international arrivals to brand new staff hired at the suddenly bustling local airport, not to mention the hundreds of local men and women hired for serving all of the 2,500 sumptuous dishes whipped up for the celebration.

Lastly, who are we to judge? And what moral compass do we bring to the world to judge a family’s celebration of love, however over the top? It’s their choice. The Ambanis are steeped in the kind of staggering wealth that I don’t know about and that I most likely never will in this lifetime anyway. Just as I don’t know what it is to be immersed in poverty—I can empathize and that’s different—I have no bearing of how the ultra rich operate in extreme wealth. What’s a boatload of money to many, is change to them.

So, let’s not walk in their shoes, but be content in ours and make sure our shoes fit us well, and make us feel content in our own walk of life.

Making room for dayaa, especially towards imperfections, outside or inside

In chapter 12 of the Bhagavad Geeta, there is a beautiful verse that lists the mental qualities of the godly, and compassion or dayaa is among them:

ahimsaa satyamakrodhastyaagaha shaantirapaishunam |
dayaa bhooteshvaloluptvam maardavam hreerachaapalam || 2 ||

non-violence, truthfulness, absence of anger, renunciation, peacefulness, restraint from fault-finding, compassion toward all living beings, absence of covetousness, gentleness, modesty, and lack of fickleness; vigor, forgiveness, fortitude, cleanliness, bearing enmity toward none, and absence of vanity.

Swami Chinmayananda explains:

“In society in general, it is not reasonable for a seeker to expect that all will keep up to the idea that he himself entertains. There will be imperfections around, but to recognize, in and through those imperfections, the Infinite beauty of life expressed, is the secret of enduring tenderness in all Saints and Sages…Unless we train ourselves to see the beauty of life pulsating through even wretched hearts and ugly characters, we will fail to bring forth tenderness to sweeten life within and without.”

Seen through this lens, the pre-wedding opulence of the Ambanis may not align with our far more modest expectations of life and reality. We might therefore find more imperfections than perfections in a celebration that the family itself deems perfect. However, if we train ourselves to see beauty in it by suspending our Ego that dictates a moralistic spin on this tale—whether it’s the love a mother shares for her son or the temporary revenue pouring into an otherwise sleepy city or the traditional dances, attire, and festivities celebrated—we might be able to see the event for what it is, just a beautiful and joyous celebration of love above all.

It may not be easy, but it’s worth the effort to judge less and grow more.

Meaningfully yours,

Anu Prabhala