Restrooms to dread

December 23, 2018 12:04 am | Updated 12:04 am IST

Visiting a public restroom is a crisis waiting to happen. It could be at a wayside hotel, a common public utility or any other place. Despite the prior knowledge and experience of the looming crisis, the natural urge has compelled me at many times to make the visit.

The facade of the premises is typically characterised by a yellow plaster-peeling wall and water lazily flowing out of a pipe into a faded blue drum, which almost always would be overflowing. A bored-looking man is seated on a rickety chair in front of a wooden desk, on which coins of various denominations are scattered. The moment I place my coins on the desk, its denomination quickly indicates to him the aim of my visit. The mixed smell of unexplainable odours is ever-pervading. I tiptoe across the flooded passage to look for empty rooms. Partially opened doors, clothes flung on top of the door, singing voices or noises of running water indicate that someone is inside. I find an empty room and enter.

Now comes the major part of the whole experience. I always survey the interiors before starting work. The door lock on the inside is invariably imperfect. With great difficulty I secure it. The satisfaction is akin to seeing the lock icon of a banking website while transacting. The door is usually three-fourths the height of the frame and is either upper or lower-biased. A slit in the door is generally present at a level at which I don’t want it to be.

Cleanliness in such rooms is more an exception than the rule. The tap is leaking and spluttering, irrespective of whether it’s turned on or off. The bucket, if present, would be half broken and with holes in the unbroken parts. The presence of a mug is an added bonus in such situations. Sometimes there is no bucket but only a mug. At the most unluckiest rooms nothing is present.

The next challenge is to find a suitable perch for the dress. Usually the dress is hooked on to a loosely fixed nail on the wall, ready to fall off at the slightest provocation. Other options are to place the dress on the door or the separating wall. Both options had the unthinkable risk of the dress being carried away by a stranger. The safest method is to drop it down to stay on the lower limb. However there is a risk of the leaking tap sprinkling its water on to it.

On some occasions I would find a dry corner to keep the dress, but often that space would be occupied by ants or an angry-looking cockroach. Once the preliminary rituals are done with, the main business commences. Time flies as I keep a watch on my dress that is flung over the door, lest someone pinches it. I once had the courage to look up, only to find lizards upside down on the ceiling. Cobwebs are present aplenty and time can be spent observing spider behaviour.

The main business done, the washing is a delicate balancing act. Then comes the flushing process. During lucky times the flush knob would work, but on worse days the knob would end up in my hand. Otherwise it is only the mug of water which will finish the matter. After dressing up and thanking my stars for an uneventful adventure, I open the door and reach the wash basin. The sight of a pink soap with ill-defined borders in a soap dish in the dirtiest corner of the wash basin prevents me from using it and I am satisfied with only a water scrub of my hands. As I leave the building, the only satisfaction I had was of relieving myself successfully. The same natural urge at other times gave me many more unpleasant opportunities to visit restrooms at different places with a similar looming crisis.

docakbhat@gmail.com

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