Our family trip to Delhi & Manali turned out to be successful. Highly satisfying, in fact. Exactly the kind of trip whose wondrous moments get etched in your memory. Manali is a most beautiful place: apple-orchards, snow-capped peaks, pahari people, pine slopes, splendid castles, exhilarating views, steep gorges, green meadows and what not! We thoroughly enjoyed the holiday, especially the part where we rented a couple of bikes and set about exploring the mountains! (Click here for the snaps)
The only disappointment, perhaps, was that we couldn't make it to the snow point at Rohtang Pass, thanks to landslides that blocked the roads (or what is left of them). Turned out to be Rohtang Fail, i guess...sigh! Well, next time, maybe.
The return trip to Delhi was by bus and it changed a lot of things. Put a lot of things into perspective. The bus being a semi-sleeper had reclining passenger seats. I heartily applaud the fellow who came up with the name 'semi-sleeper'; the search for a more precise term would prove unnecessary. In simple language, it means that for approximately one half of the travel time, the passenger is in a state of sleep, while for the other half, he is continuously & vigorously shaken out of it.
The reasons are many. I strongly suspect that some prankster had left the driver thinking he was being secretly monitored to qualify for the World Rally Championship. The poor fellow, in his iron will to succeed, rode over rock and rubble in a manner reminiscent of Knights during the time of Queen Elizabeth-I. But as a passenger reclined backwards at an angle of 45 degrees, I clearly could not share the driver's high spirits. "River-rafting, my dear fellow", I wanted to tell him, "is generally not carried out on land, however slushy the roads may be."
The single most obvious effect of this mountain road roller-coaster was the enthusiasm passengers displayed to take the window seat. This is not to be confused with the desire to appreciate scenery. Upset tummies gurgling like cisterns, travel sickness bags being passed around and various forms of digestive projectile motion being demonstrated summed it all up. As for me, an Avomin pill did the trick (normally, i would proceed to enlighten u that etymologically, 'Avomin' is partly derived from Sanskrit negative prefix 'a-' (not) and Latin 'vomin' (to vomit), but this time, I refrain from doing so!)
The bus stopped at a Haveli the next day morning, for people to attend their morning calls (not to mention several 'missed calls' during the night!) To my dismay I noted that only tissue paper had been provided in the toilets and there was no tap to be seen for washing. At that, I was forced to issue an 'About turn' command and wait for the prospect of using a toilet only at Delhi.
While on the subject of toilets and wash areas, I want to speak out my mind and get to the bottom of things!
Never has mankind been so unnecessarily and wastefully innovative when it comes to designing taps and flushes. I am sure the ordinary man will be totally bewildered for such a simple thing as – how do I open this tap? Do I
a) press it?
b) lift it?
c) twist it to the left or right?
d) place my palms under the spout as in prayer?
e) adopt a wait & watch policy, let someone else operate?
Even more bewildering are the toilet flushes! Where is the flush button, dammit? And why the hell is it camouflaged? Don't they have better things to camouflage- the US army in Iraq , for instance- but why? Why flush buttons of all the things on earth? And why can’t they provide ordinary taps for post-morning-call use?
I say this with deep feeling, as I realised later that i had been made a gross fool of in the matter, when a co-passenger educated me that the wash taps in the Haveli toilets are not fixed to the walls as generally known , but ‘cleverly’ positioned at a set of precise co-ordinates inside, mind you, inside the ‘commode' itself! All u have to do is to go on sitting on the toilet seat while the 'flushing station' senses the 'proximity of the target' with respect to the station and an obliging jet of water from the secret pipe set inside the commode is released by a set of (again obliging) valves to do all the bum-washing required!
Now, if this facility is altruistically intended to reduce human labour and make human life easier easier, I totally oppose it and register my strong protest with the relevant authority concerned! Now, I would like to know why is it that for AGES till recently, the humble tap never underwent any metamorphosis? Why only now? I postulate that this is being done by a set of practical misguided jokers who manufacture flushing equipment calculated to frighten and bewilder the poor ordinary man in an emergent situation! And they also extort a fancy price for such accursed equipment!
Smart toilets, indeed!
