This is more Kolly than Bolly, but whatevs. Hilarious subtitles
Because there are way too many extras. Life on this overpopulated isle inevitable descends into soap opera when love (or its chemical substitutes) are involved. Colombo is so small that any trip to the store can trip you back into the ex-networks that bite and claw with all the twisted vengeance of a bad break-up, twice removed. More often – in silence – you can see the parties and trips you’re missing simply because of misguided kissing. And this doesn’t even include the pressures you get from family. On a plebian level, there are countless housemaids gobbling sleeping pills cause their gold chains are not weighty enough to satisfy a bus-stop lover’s extended family. Its a goddamn mess that punishes the slightest transgression such that many people just say fuck it and engage in the most depraved acts with relative impunity. This is the land of a million cooks and a swirling broth of DNA. God forbid you think you’re in control and burn your appendages.
The influence of family and networks are less in the New World simply by virtue of being new. America and – to a lesser extent – England are immigrant nations where people have placed physical distance between themselves and family. In Sri Lanka and India, just by virtue of being born, you immediately have 50-100 people on your network, for better or worse. Often this is better – for raising children, trading, sharing information. It is often, however, worse because it corrupts abstract principles of good governance, and allows violence and incest to occur in a bubble. And the gossip, egad. It’s worse in that hundreds of people are constantly all up in your shit.
Got fat, got thin. Got dark, got light. Glad to hear, sorry to hear, did you hear?
The questions are endless, and the gossip is never more than around the subject of love. I have a bad habit of being entirely open about relationships, such that my parents have met most people I’ve dated or even been interested in, however briefly. I have rarely, if ever, met the parents of the girls I know. Same goes for friends, who often (usually?) like the dates better than me. This is all well, but in the case of a break-up sometimes all the proverbial eggs are in one basket and you wonder who gets to keep them now that they won’t be fertilized.
Hindi movies look ridiculous in that each intimate mating dance takes place with literally 200 men and ladies in waiting, but that’s kinda how it is. If you date a girl she has her friends and family and you have yours. They’re all there in the background through whatever complicated pirouettes you’re trying to execute. If you slip up they’re in the foreground, almost immediately. And I suppose this is nothing new. To quote the Spice Girls, ‘If you want to be my lover, you’ve got to get with my friends. Make it last for ever, friendship never ends.’ And it doesn’t, though relationships do. The trouble comes when these facts collide and you have to tell all the backup dancers to go home.