We take this for granted. This is so universal in the USA that if the flush system were to fail most people would not know where to look and what to do. In fact we can mark the year 1907 as year ZERO in the Before Flush, After Flush calendar; anything before that was savagery and after that modern age. I am not referring to any flush system, I am referring to the system where the water goes round and round in a vortex which allows for better cleaning. There were other flush systems before but none that meant anything to the relevance of this post.
As always a brief digression; I feel at times that I chose a little too frivolous in making the toilet more important. There is an equally important item if not more important, namely the lowly Toilet Paper. If people in USA do not know what to do without toilets think how unsure of themselves they would be without the benefit of TP. I like the word unsure to describe people’s feeling. I checked its meaning in the dictionary and here is what it says
lacking or indicating lack of confidence or assurance; "uncertain of his convictions"; "unsure of himself and his future"; "moving with uncertain (or unsure) steps"
The last one “moving with uncertain steps” explains their condition perfectly. I think it is visual enough.
Anyway, enough of this vacillation; Year 1907 is the Anna Flush and the years before that Before Flush and we will defer the merits and demerits of TP over Flush toilet to another post.
Or better yet maybe we will defer forever.
In India flush toilets are pre vortex age. A huge amount of water gets dumped into the bowl in a rather haphazard way. Because of this the water has no coherence and beats uselessly against itself and the stuff. I refuse to name it by its technical term and other not so technical ones, and stuff it will be called thoughout. With this lack of unity shown by the water forces, the stuff insides fights hard and resists to be flushed down. It is like the Indian spirit; refuses to give in despite the conditions around. After a while the water gives up its hope and the triumphant stuff floats mocking at your attempts.
If you wonder why Indians have this extra tap and bucket even in western style toilets, well now you know the reason, they have little faith in the flush actually working first time. No matter the reason, you are merely grateful for this fact. Having a bucket of water is handy. You pour a bucket of water in one fell swoop, even the hardiest of stuff can be drowned successfully.
I never thought I would sully my blog about a post on stuff. I guess I am frustrated with toilets here.
Monday, October 27, 2008
My Parent's Pilgrimage
Yesterday my dad described a pilgrimage he made to Muktinath in Nepal last month.
As usual it started with an argument. My dad is autocratic and my mom who got her BA in Political Science resents autocracy and thinks of herself as a defender of democracy and freedom of speech. The question was how much ID the two should carry. My mom suggested that the newest passport was adequate but my dad ordered “Woman, bring both the old and new”. My dad felt that since the old one carried the US Visa it carried more weight when going to Nepal. Makes sense; if USA itself allowed them access why should Nepal not? After extensive fighting and much bloodshed my mom capitulated. They ended up carrying, two passports each, Voter ID, PAN Card, and Pension ID. The only card they did not carry was the ration card!! Poor thing, once upon a time it was the only ID our family possessed.
This was one extreme, in the airport they met up with the others who were going with them. My father’s friend (henceforth called Mr. S) who was the spirit behind this trip is a bindas person. Nothing bothers him.
To describe him better let me take a detour. Once when Mr. S was traveling from Madras to New Delhi, he saw Oranges at Nagpur station. Now Nagpur is famous for its oranges. So you cannot blame the man for wanting to buy some. So he stepped out of train. Further out he saw some grapes and so entranced was he by the sight that he decided to walk out of the station to buy some. After the mandatory bargaining, he got his grapes and came back to find the train driver did not share his taste for fruits and decided to move on to Itarsi, the next station. Since there was no point in crying, Mr. S coolly went to the station master and explained his situation. The station master, for whom this was not such an unusual incident, commiserated with Mr. S and advised him to buy another ticket and meanwhile called ahead to Itarsi and told them to unload Mr. S bags from the train.
Now comes the kicker, Mr. S did not have any money. As I mentioned nothing fazed him much. He called several people and through them identified someone who used to work for him a while back. Mr. S talked to him and requested him to bring some money for him. Well everything ended well. Mr. S got his money, got another ticket, picked his bags at the next station and reached New Delhi safely. Later as he recounted this story, he commented to my father casually “pretty expensive grapes those were”.
Back to the Nepal trip; Since Mr. S had come to this trip with two relatives who did not have a passport, he felt a sense of camaraderie and decided to forgo his passport too. Now he did not stop there. He decided to come with no identification!! Mind you, although they were only going to Nepal, it was really quasi-international travel. The only piece of ID he had was a driver’s license. Sorry, I am wrong; the only piece of ID he had with him was a Xerox copy of his driver’s license!! Seriously, not even the real thing.
Now the people in the airport would not let him travel with this poor excuse for an ID. So he casually talked to several people in several windows and tried to cajole them in letting him fly. For people in the US this would sound strange. The rule is you have no passport, you make no international travel plans. India is beyond material things, mere ID or lack of one cannot stop one from traveling. If you talk to enough people you can get on any plane. In between my dad, who is a retired bureaucrat, kept telling anyone and everyone, who cared to listen to him, how his son’s classmate is now a Deputy Inspector General in Indian Police Service or DIG in the IPS for short. As proof he would show my friend’s business card. It came as a major blow to my father’s psyche that no one was intimidated. They all knew a few DIGs too, in fact they all had worked with quite a few DIGs. My dad was so used to scaring my mom. By the way, he does not yet know it yet, that she is not afraid either.
Not everyone was as sanguine as Mr. S. Others in the group were very worried. You see no one precisely knew where they were all going. This leads to another detour
Two of the original members of the group could not come due to some personal problems, so two others were roped in at the last minute. One of them was this widowed lady who had been very keen from the beginning. Her children checked that my parents would be part of the group and allowed her to come, since she had a variety of ailments. They thought if my parents were going then it would be safe. When she reached the airport she had to fill out a few forms, she wondered loudly to no one in particularly “I wonder where we are going”. She then cheerfully confided to my mom that her children would be furious with her if they knew that she had no clue where she was going.
They all trusted Mr. S implicitly. My father later told me that most of his plans were on bits and pieces of paper very haphazardly put together in a small bag.
It was so funny, I have not laughed so much in several weeks. It hurt so much to laugh since I have a bad cold and could not laugh without coughing my guts out.
Coming back, like I said, in India you can get anything done if you knock at enough doors and meet enough babus. What is a minor irritant like need for a passport to cross international borders?
Well my parents successfully went to Nepal; there was no stopping Mr. S, he got on that flight; the widowed lady also made it without any hitch. Her children though are still blissfully unaware of the details.
In conclusion, my parents and their friends had a great time in Nepal.
As usual it started with an argument. My dad is autocratic and my mom who got her BA in Political Science resents autocracy and thinks of herself as a defender of democracy and freedom of speech. The question was how much ID the two should carry. My mom suggested that the newest passport was adequate but my dad ordered “Woman, bring both the old and new”. My dad felt that since the old one carried the US Visa it carried more weight when going to Nepal. Makes sense; if USA itself allowed them access why should Nepal not? After extensive fighting and much bloodshed my mom capitulated. They ended up carrying, two passports each, Voter ID, PAN Card, and Pension ID. The only card they did not carry was the ration card!! Poor thing, once upon a time it was the only ID our family possessed.
This was one extreme, in the airport they met up with the others who were going with them. My father’s friend (henceforth called Mr. S) who was the spirit behind this trip is a bindas person. Nothing bothers him.
To describe him better let me take a detour. Once when Mr. S was traveling from Madras to New Delhi, he saw Oranges at Nagpur station. Now Nagpur is famous for its oranges. So you cannot blame the man for wanting to buy some. So he stepped out of train. Further out he saw some grapes and so entranced was he by the sight that he decided to walk out of the station to buy some. After the mandatory bargaining, he got his grapes and came back to find the train driver did not share his taste for fruits and decided to move on to Itarsi, the next station. Since there was no point in crying, Mr. S coolly went to the station master and explained his situation. The station master, for whom this was not such an unusual incident, commiserated with Mr. S and advised him to buy another ticket and meanwhile called ahead to Itarsi and told them to unload Mr. S bags from the train.
Now comes the kicker, Mr. S did not have any money. As I mentioned nothing fazed him much. He called several people and through them identified someone who used to work for him a while back. Mr. S talked to him and requested him to bring some money for him. Well everything ended well. Mr. S got his money, got another ticket, picked his bags at the next station and reached New Delhi safely. Later as he recounted this story, he commented to my father casually “pretty expensive grapes those were”.
Back to the Nepal trip; Since Mr. S had come to this trip with two relatives who did not have a passport, he felt a sense of camaraderie and decided to forgo his passport too. Now he did not stop there. He decided to come with no identification!! Mind you, although they were only going to Nepal, it was really quasi-international travel. The only piece of ID he had was a driver’s license. Sorry, I am wrong; the only piece of ID he had with him was a Xerox copy of his driver’s license!! Seriously, not even the real thing.
Now the people in the airport would not let him travel with this poor excuse for an ID. So he casually talked to several people in several windows and tried to cajole them in letting him fly. For people in the US this would sound strange. The rule is you have no passport, you make no international travel plans. India is beyond material things, mere ID or lack of one cannot stop one from traveling. If you talk to enough people you can get on any plane. In between my dad, who is a retired bureaucrat, kept telling anyone and everyone, who cared to listen to him, how his son’s classmate is now a Deputy Inspector General in Indian Police Service or DIG in the IPS for short. As proof he would show my friend’s business card. It came as a major blow to my father’s psyche that no one was intimidated. They all knew a few DIGs too, in fact they all had worked with quite a few DIGs. My dad was so used to scaring my mom. By the way, he does not yet know it yet, that she is not afraid either.
Not everyone was as sanguine as Mr. S. Others in the group were very worried. You see no one precisely knew where they were all going. This leads to another detour
Two of the original members of the group could not come due to some personal problems, so two others were roped in at the last minute. One of them was this widowed lady who had been very keen from the beginning. Her children checked that my parents would be part of the group and allowed her to come, since she had a variety of ailments. They thought if my parents were going then it would be safe. When she reached the airport she had to fill out a few forms, she wondered loudly to no one in particularly “I wonder where we are going”. She then cheerfully confided to my mom that her children would be furious with her if they knew that she had no clue where she was going.
They all trusted Mr. S implicitly. My father later told me that most of his plans were on bits and pieces of paper very haphazardly put together in a small bag.
It was so funny, I have not laughed so much in several weeks. It hurt so much to laugh since I have a bad cold and could not laugh without coughing my guts out.
Coming back, like I said, in India you can get anything done if you knock at enough doors and meet enough babus. What is a minor irritant like need for a passport to cross international borders?
Well my parents successfully went to Nepal; there was no stopping Mr. S, he got on that flight; the widowed lady also made it without any hitch. Her children though are still blissfully unaware of the details.
In conclusion, my parents and their friends had a great time in Nepal.
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