‘Just answer the question—what did you do with your first pay cheque?’ he repeated.

‘I gave most of it to my parents, and I made a donation to the temple and the Tamil Refugee Organisation. I also bought myself an expensive cardigan from Country Road, but it had bell-shaped sleeves so it was totally worth it.’

‘Exactly, and why did you do that?’

‘Because it’s what my parents did with their first pay cheque, and what my grandfather did with his. Except for the cardigan of course.’

‘Exactly,’ he replied.

‘You’re cute, even when you’re smug.’ She shook her head at him. ‘It’s a beautiful wedding ceremony. The male and female forms of the divine are joined to make the whole. It’s the equal union between two people and two families.’

‘You know the ceremony well,’ he said, playing with her hand.

‘I’ve been to about a thousand of them. I paid attention. It’s a sweet ceremony too—at the end the priest throws the wedding ring into a pot of water and the bride and groom both put their hands in. Whoever gets the ring first will dominate the marriage—best of three tries. It’s really just to give them a chance to touch each other for the first time.’

‘That is sweet. Antiquated but sweet. I like the music—the moment the wedding chain is tied. You can feel the finality of it,’ he said.

‘Music is everything. Imagine how boring Star Wars would be without music,’ she said, trying to change the subject.

‘I know, let’s have a Wookie wedding ceremony.’

‘What are you trying to say about my body hair?’ she laughed.

‘If you love the Hindu ceremony so much, then let’s do it,’ he said, leaning forward.

‘I just want something simpler; something that has meaning because we’ve given it meaning, not because it’s expected of us but because we wanted it for ourselves. I don’t feel connected to the community or those traditions anymore.’

‘Then let’s have a wedding at the temple in Walthamstow, family only—simple and fast,’ he said. ‘We can go to The Banana Leaf afterwards for takeaway hoppers.’

‘No, Prashanth, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready for that. A temple wedding with only our family is still a few hundred big. Why can’t we just go to Camden Town Hall and have a registry wedding?’

‘A registry wedding? What kind of Sri Lankan are you?’ he laughed and shook his head, bewildered.

‘A confused one. There are people in refugee camps who tie string around each other’s necks because that’s all they have. They make do with wedding chains made of string and food rations that are inadequate because the government lies about the number of refugees in every camp. I just couldn’t bear a big wedding, Prashanth, I’m really sorry.’