Moving from one office space to another is a trivial
matter of discussion—there’s nothing to it. But finding solace in a washroom,
whether it is to relieve oneself or to cry secret tears or even to control that
fit of giggles is almost a matter of life and death—to me, it truly is! So when
I heard that my team is moving to another space, what bothered me the most was
not the sub-zero temperatures or clinical lighting of the new workspace; but
the fact that there were no loos inside the office. Imagine having to ping
yourself out from the office and walking more than a couple of meters away, to
a space that’s shared by a truckload of employees from different companies! I
was appalled. What would happen to touch-ups or even quick gossip sessions that
ladies’ washrooms are so known for? The more I thought about it, the more
devastated I felt.
I have an unexplainable obsession with loos. I am not
sure when I was struck by lightning, but I remember being revolted by school
bathrooms—where little (and sometimes not so little) dumplings lay casually on
the floor, when they should really have been inside the pot. In college, the
situation was definitely much better; but I had ample opportunities to witness
the “gross” underbelly of public toilets.
Train toilets were frightening. For long journeys I
completely skipped the big business, sticking to just number 1 because THAT I
cannot control! But bus journeys—and I have limited their incidence for this
one obvious reason—were the worst. Stopping at roadside “rest rooms”, was more
“unrest-ing” than anything in this world. You see, adult dumplings are not
exactly, well, dumplings. They are humongous mass of grossness left in the open,
with the cruel intention of psychologically scarring unsuspecting individuals
who are looking for that one clean, dry spot they can squat on. But hell no!
That one square centimetre spot is not to be found in a wayside loo.
Airline loos on the other hand are a nightmare for
Indians like me, who believe in the indispensability of water. Plus, the flush
sounds like the roof came down, and the lack of space just makes you feel so
much closer to what’s going down under, it’s not funny.
Then there are loos in railway stations, restaurants,
shopping malls, and more that offer plentiful opportunity of ‘visual treat’ and
‘olfactory pleasure’ that I have gone through, not only because of my seemingly
tiny bladder; but also because the daughter wants to go at all the wrong places
and at the wrong time.
All said and done, I love the peace and quiet of a
bathroom. My own that is. It’s where I read – don’t look shocked. A lot of
people read in the loo, and I admit to being one of them. The loo is also where
I don’t (usually) get harassed by the daughter. Or the mother. Or the husband.
It’s my “me-time” place, believe it or not.
But coming back to the problem of the washroom at the
end of the 100 feet road in my office building (dripping with sarcasm coz a
1000 pound migraine is blinding me as I write this) – it’s put everything in
jeopardy. From having to “hold it in” because the loo is too far, to having no
access to all-anytime preening, this has been quite tragic. Not to mention, no
toilet paper! But in spite of the headache, I’ll try looking at the bright
side. The distance ensures I walk longer, faster, which turns out to be good
exercise – I am in the “let’s get my body moving” phase right now.
Look at this blog! I have rambled about bathrooms way too
much. But hey, my tryst with washrooms is far from over. There are so many more
to explore and experience. So much more to witness and run away from. And many
to find solace in (provided there are no dumplings!).
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