Colombo Confessions is all about having a laugh. I’ve had the misfortune of associating with a wide cross-section of Colombo denizens. This column is a look at the lighter side of Lankans in the capital of Sri Lanka.
Privilege and Perversion – it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Men perving on women seem to be a running theme these days. But actually it has been a running theme ever since the patriarchy decided that everything had to be their way or the highway. I wonder if this pastime of perving away at hapless women is somehow a jobless happenstance of island folk who really have too much time on their hands.
I remember a time when I went on a food-inspired jaunt with one of my besties around town. What greeted the poor girl was a litany of wolf whistles, claps, winks, and raucous yelps with guttural emits of “Nangi!” It was traumatic for me to see and hear this, but I could only imagine what it was like for her. She shrugged and said she was used to it; this girl is a tough nut being a former army general’s daughter and all, (I pity the man who lays a finger on her.)
That experience was a stark reminder of how easy we guys have it. You’d be forgiven to think that this abuse unfolds from a certain sub strata of society. It unfolds from every section. I’ve had the misfortune of being at church one glorious Sunday a good decade or so ago. As the choir of angelic voices residing on an elevated platform (belonging to prettily dressed girls) lifted our hopes to the heavens above, the frustrated male-dominated congregation lifted their eyes to catch a glimpse or two of the fleshy thighs and beyond of the choir girls who were blissfully unaware of such attentions.
We are a frustrated country, aren’t we? We regularly top the Google Search ranking for the term “sex” year after year. Now with the advent of smartphones, these frustrated Neanderthals go all HDR on their victims whether it be public transport or five-star hotels. Ironically, these subpar masculine entities are married. One wonders if these are marriages of reason or marriages of sexual frustration.
But sexual intrigue is aplenty in Colombo these days. Whether it be a plastic surgeon’s wife who finds some respite in the collagen-deficit arms of a 77-year-old retired engineer, or myself who one Sunday had to avoid the grins, glances, and lascivious inquiries of a dude on a bike who took particular interest in my purchase of aubergines or batu. He asked politely, a fervent request to tickle his pickle.
Such invitations of Set Wemuda or Athal Gamuda were the only two snippets of vocab I heard that day. Batu moju aside, quite possibly the biggest Athal for me was to extend my hand and deliver a Kaney, which would have echoed like a bad memory for the poor fella.
Yet all in all, what can I say except that all of this dysfunction makes up the beautiful mess that Colombo is. And it is indeed a right royal mess. You can’t teach the old perverted dogs new tricks, but, maybe, education can, hopefully, lead to a new and more well-behaved future generation that can redefine the term civilised behaviour.
(Rohitha Perera is a writer, blogger and content marketer from Colombo, Sri Lanka. He used to be an editor at a lifestyle magazine, and now works in the IT industry)
