Master of ceremonies
South Asian weddings, on the mic since 2014. A dozen vendors, thousands of guests, and a timeline that only holds if somebody is driving it.
The software came out of the weddings. Since 2014 I have watched the same things break: a vendor working off last week's timeline, a family waiting on a cue nobody called, a quote that took four days to send. I build the tools that fix those now, and I know which ones matter because I was the one on the mic when they broke.
A running order tells you what is next. It does not tell you the floor is thinning, that half the guests are still eating, or that a speech has gone six minutes long. Calling the next thing at the wrong moment is how a good night quietly goes flat.
Baraat, ceremony, garba, reception. Each has a shape, a cue, and a dozen people who need to be standing in the right place before it starts. Someone has to hold all of it at once on the day, and that someone is holding a microphone.
The photographer, the DJ, the caterer and the venue are all at the same wedding, usually off four different versions of the plan. They need one person to check with while it is happening.
Something always slips. A car is late, a mic cuts out, an uncle who is meant to be in the grand entrance is outside taking a call. Whether the room ever finds out is the real measure of the night.
“I can still hear Nisarg's voice in my head sometimes.”
“He had our guests laughing, participating, and fully in the moment.”
“Kept the crowd hyped and engaged all week long.”