A:     If I recall correctly, it is your favourite time of year, Sadiq.

S:     The World Cup hasn’t started yet.

A:     That’s not what I’m talking about. Think harder, about all the songs and mirth and dancing and festivities of these joyous winter months.

S:     Oh no...

A:     Wedding season, my friend. Love is in the air.

S:     You mean kormas and arranged marriages with barely of-age girls. I can sniff the stale naan now. And the stale conversation.

A:     Oh come on. It isn’t all that bad.

S:     The food or the inane company? You’re right, the korma is almost palatable.

A:     There is real beauty to it. The celebration of marriage in this great and grand manner. It’s all the glamour we get around here, you know. Our equivalent of dressing up and going to a ball.

S:     Yes, except you get there and everyone’s a pumpkin.

A:     Lighten up, for God’s sake. Can’t you even appreciate the observation of this most important, this most sacred of all human relationships? You are witness to the greatest moments of somebody’s life. You celebrate with them, you laugh with them, you dance and dine with them. It’s enough to make even a cold heart like you melt in his suit.

S:     I’m sorry. I don’t consider the forced, social constructs and obnoxiously expensive customs of holy matrimony in our culture the most important moments of anybody’s life. You get there and pretend to have a jolly time. All the while you observe other equally bewildered, or delusional people observing each other. It’s a circus, not a celebration. 50% of all marriages end in divorce, by the way. Happy korma digesting.