Lifts & Loos

Caution: the so called fairer-sex may find parts of the post objectionable. So read at your discretion

Everybody has, or at least searches for, some place where they find peace and happiness. It can be home, a mountain side, a sea shore, lover’s lap, kid’s cuddle, in front of laptop, on factory floor, in artist’s studio, or a place of worship. But one place that is a universal abode of relief is - the loo. Almost everyone would have gone through that agony of a long drive, when you have just had that refreshing lemonade you had packed for the road but the next restroom is some kilometers ahead. Of course, in India we enjoy the luxury of relieving ourselves wherever we fancy, and frankly there is something liberating about peeing in the open - with a mountain in your sight, the sound of cars whizzing past behind your back, to see the leaves revolt against unwanted watering, and to get the fresh air ‘in’. You get a lesson in geography when you make a gorge into hard soil with your ‘stream’, and with that rare insight, you wonder if all the gorges in the world were made when He peed. Leave aside the religious sermons, that is when you feel being ‘one with Him’. Just imagine our obsession that we have so many terms – the slightly rude ‘urinals’, the simple ‘loo’, the polite ‘restroom’, or ‘washroom’ or the very choicy ‘powder room’ (even the word toilet is avoided in more polite circles). It took me some time to realise that restrooms are not the place for one to lie down and relax after a long walk or journey.

To the loos, let me add another similar place, and that is a lift or an elevator. Now what is the similarity you ask. I have this social observation – people get similarly and strangely awkward at both these places. And here I am referring only to the men’s urinal we find in public places or in offices which has rows of white receptacles to accept your offering. There is always a strange silence at both these places, apart from the whirring of the fan, or of gushing down of water. Why is that so? I think in loos it is that innate, strange embarrassment at doing in public something that we are more comfortable doing in private. While in the elevator it is the tension of being confined in a closed space.

While one has to spend only a few seconds in the lift, but I always sense that a heavy elephant has also entered. So you find that one is looking up at the fan, one is looking down at his feet, most people are looking at the display screen. That screen becomes the object of such intense attention and gaze that one wonders if it blinks purely out of pressure. The air gets very heavy and it feels that everyone is holding his/her breath. I am sure I hear an exhalation as soon as one gets off. Entry of new members brings more tension (especially in India where the habit of greeting strangers is not prevalent unlike the western world where greeting everybody on entering an elevator is common). First of all, one is not sure that the button for my floor is pressed, as the view may be blocked. So I have to ask somebody or twist myself to get a view. If the button is pressed, a relief. If it is not, then should I try and stretch myself to press or ask the one nearest to it. Many a times when someone is approaching the lift, there is a confusion whether that person wants to enter the lift or he is going somewhere else. Should I stop the lift or not? I look rude if that person wanted to enter and I did not stop and I look foolish if I stop and he did not want to enter. The dilemma does not even if I know that the person wants to enter. He may be some distance away and how do i estimate his speed? Will he rush when he sees that somebody is holding the door for him? Or if he walks in his own merry way, than I am better off going my way, he can take the next one. Is that rude? But it is practical no! The tension mounts when you are the one nearest to the keypad in a crowded lift and have to take this decision. Since everyone in the lift is affected, should it not be a democratic decision (can we have a quick vote to decide) or is it my autocratic decision. If I decide to hold 10 people for one, I may irritate many who are in a hurry. Indeed many people do get furious when the lift is stopped by someone for someone else, their body language saying ‘do your good deed of the day somewhere else or on someone else’s time’. It is not unlike how people in a crowded bus react to onboarding passengers.

At times, tension comes from the other side. In most lift designs, on most floors, the lift panels would have separate buttons for whether you want to go up or go down. If you press the down button, the lift which is on an upward journey is not made to stop and vice versa. Most people, at least in India, do not understand this concept and always press both the buttons. While no bother for him, but for people inside it can be a nuisance because the lift stops at that floor even when the person there has no use for it. The problem escalates when the person outside continues to press the button in question, thus preventing the lift car from continuing its journey and holding up an entire army. So the army shouts back. Getting off a lift can be another issue, not unlike getting off a bus or a train. So if I am standing blocking the door, how do I know if someone behind me wants to get off at a floor? Do I look back at each stop? And how does one give way? Does he get out of the lift? Many times I have felt that it is better if the person blocking the door (especially if he is of sizeable proportion) get off the lift and re-enter once people have off-boarded. But most times, people find it too much of an exercise, or some people have a mortal fear of getting off the lift before their actual stop, lest the doors would close immediately, leaving them on an unknown world where beasts wander. Having a beautiful woman in the lift increases the already high tension (captured  most interestingly by the series of ads by Royal Stag tag lined ‘Men will be men) – given the limited space it is tricky to stare at her without appearing to do so. If the female in question happens to be wearing a short skirt, my usual lift habit of looking down becomes treacherous. Often the thick perfume smell or sweat stench encapsulates the palpable tension. So you see how much tension and decision-making this apparently small matter involves.

  

If lifts can have so much anxiety, loos are way ahead. While men are trained to pee in a standing position, public peeing and that too in such proximity can be unnerving. So all kinds of interesting situations emerge. The assault to privacy can be extreme in a urinal. I find the three urinal combination especially interesting (no, seriously). One feels too exposed when surrounded from both sides. And I feel that no self respecting man would intentionally chose the middle one when the corner ones are free. My concerns are compounded if there are insufficient boundaries between receptacles – I have seen partitions whose length and transparency can be more inappropriate than a girl’s skirt. The most embarrassing specimen that I have seen would be the portable urinals, in half-marathons. Whoever designed them either had a bad day at work or an amazing sense of humour. They are usually made of some plastic compound with people facing each other in sets of two or three. There is absolutely nothing hidden, and one has to make effort to avoid catching the sight of the opposite number’s digit.

And people have all sorts of habits of peeing. While the usual practise is to unzip and start, but I have seen people properly lower their pants, which is not a pleasant experience. Another disturbing habit is the post-facto jiggling which many people do. While I agree it has practical validity, but it can become exaggeratedly distressing (ok I stop). Starting with a full bladder and thus letting go with energy and vigour, can also be a noisy assault. And what to say when the urinal is choked so one ends up seeing the ‘well’ fill up. Aargghhh. Also why do people have the habit of spitting while urinating? I never understand. Positioning of hands ‘in the act’ is also an interesting study. So there are those who use both hands to hold either ‘the precious’ or their pants, some keep both hands at sides or even at back! as if in an act of defiance or superiority, and some keep one hand on the partitioning wall (for support I presume).

Awkwardness overflows in a loo. Usually people find it a very personal experience to pee and thus want their privacy. So most tend to remain silent. But are there any protocols of behaviour in a loo? It should be taught. Does one acknowledge a fellow ‘reliever’ in the adjoining spot with a nod, with a ‘hello’, or a handshake (ok that is going too far)? Or the decent thing is to remain silent and let the person have some peace. In my office, I have seen many people (and myself) talk wherein one of the them is doing his business while the other is washing hands. At times I feel like saying to the guy washing hands ‘while you have done your bit let me do mine, don’t you know how much concentration it requires?’ Conversation across the boundary is not too uncommon either. But tension accompanies a senior who enters and joins the ranks. Talking about joining ranks, many public toilets can get overcrowded at specific times, for example, as soon as a flight/bus arrives, and have a waiting queue. When the person you are waiting for takes much longer to finish than those in adjoining queues, you feel like saying ‘this is not the place to contemplate’. I hope you appreciate the peculiarities and immensities a loo can bring.

Before I close, a small anecdote. Long back I was appearing for one of those competitive exams which are held in a randomly selected school. So I was in the Convent of Jesus & Mary school in Delhi. I went to the restroom before the exam began. I kept looking for the standing receptacles but could not find, instead there were only the closed cabins with proper lavatory. I appreciated the infrastructure. What a school, it does not care about practicality and wastage of space, but more about giving comfort to students. It was much later that I realised that it was a girls-only school.