The Piss Miss

This is the second in the series of Shirish's Secret Confession. The third one is a post already here, so the next 'confession' to be posted will be the fourth. I am happy I am doing something.

Listen, I have a confession to make. I know why my life is so messed up. I committed a major mistake today that has made it painfully clear to me why my life sucks, and why there has been no permanent solution to the problem in the middle east.

It was 6.30 this evening. I was with my friends in Bishal Bazar when I had the urgent need to go to the loo. Whenever I have similar urges, I just tap my legs really frequently, and then close my thighs, so that the muscles know its NOT okay to open up. But today, all the caffeine and sugar and lard I had had some hours earlier had coaxed my muscles to move up without caring for what I wanted to do. So I got into this toilet. I usually don't use the urinals because some individuals cannot aim properly, and some have this habit of looking around a lot when they relieve themselves. I did not wish to provide such individuals with data for their informal survey, so I went directly to a cubical. There were four, and three were closed so I had no choice.

Those staying outside Nepal might have forgotten, but Pans are the preferred receipients of human waste compared to Commodes in public toilets. This Pan stood there in all its glory: with a big piece of shiny human excreta sitting in the middle proudly, like a King sitting in his rightful throne. It shone bright yellow in the bright yellow light, and I felt it would be wrong to destroy its majestic demean by doing something to it. I immediately left the Loo and started for the other floor. I might have heard a woman calling me, but since I was fairly confident my fly was not open, I did not bother to look.

  

The next Loo was slightly less congested, and I took a relatively isolated urinal. After doing the deed, I headed for the washbasin, where a fellow Urinator was washing his hands. I was proud to be his comrade in washing hands-- only few did it. I was not as proud when he did not rinse his hands but instead used them to scoop out water to his hair. He wet his hair and washed his face, all with the half-rinsed hand whose fingers had touched his face before they touched water. I pushed pass him, did a quick washing, and got out.

JUST WHEN. I heard a man collecting money from the Loo users asking money. I was at the side, so I ignored him and moved passed him, pretending I never heard him. I did not pay money after using the toilet. Apparently, I had been asked money in the previous toilet too, but the woman had been too shy to ask men who had just relieved themselves for money. I had cheated paying for money twice, and I had done once intentionally.

In the four hours that have passed since, I have learnt that it was not the right thing to do, and it is probably the kind of attitude that has stopped my country Nepal from developing. When I go to college, I expect to be in students from all cultures and languages,and I will lean from them how to behave properly when coming out of he toilet, and the right amount of money one should give for using the toilet. Giving too little could mean you're a cheapskate--giving too much could make people unnecessarily suspicious if there is anyone in the toilet who should not be in there. 

However, it will be only me who will have gotten the knowledge. To develop my country Nepal, I will come back and share the knowledge with my countrymen. Not only that, I will also teach them to aim properly, and give them activities to do while relieving themselves so that they will not bother looking to check how the other people are doing. With some advanced lessons and grants, perhaps I could teach them to make interesting shapes with their excreta.

I have been asked how this would provide a solution to the problem in the Middle East. The Arabs and the Israelis call each other with names that are usually synonyms of human excreta, and that I believe is the root of all problems. When they realize that human excreta is actually an interesting topic, out of which works of art can be made out, they will realize that their weapons don't mean anything and instead wage an artistic war among themselves, discarding all weapons in favor of paintbrushes and palettes.