Monday, July 9, 2007


It was a cold evening. One of those windy, gusty days you get in Bangalore. Through the streets leading to Maruti Nagar in Madiwala, a man walked at full speed. He showed exceptional dexterity at dodging the human melee and traffic on the road. It was a dexterity born out of necessity, for his bladder threatened to explode if he waited another minute.

This unfortunate man was none other than yours truly on his way back from office. I was running to reach home, sorry… toilet. All of a sudden I hear my name called out, it’s none other than co-conspirator Athul Dev and my roomie Shyam. “How about a beer dude” says Athul. I cringed at those tasteless words. “Beer” is one word that you don’t want to hear when you are in such dire need to take a leak. Forcing a smile on my strained face, I explained the severity of the situ.

The sympathy was immediate, after all who has not been in my situation at one or more points in his/her life? But the solution that I got from them was one thing I would regret in times to come.

Athul: If it’s so serious, then take a leak there (pointing to a nearby dark alley) and then come with us.
I: The Street is so crowded! There is no privacy yaar!
Athul: Nobody is loafing around there dude. Do it fast and come with us!
Shyam: Yes man, do it there and come. By the time you reach home you would have peed in your pants he he he he!
I (Thinking): Probably true!
I (Speaking): But this is not an open area, it’s near somebody’s house. Its not right guys!
Them: Poda! Since when have you followed peeing etiquettes? Eh?
Seeing the supreme logic behind their arguments I bowed down and accepted the plan of action. That was Wrong Decision Number 1.

Hoping that nobody would come that way, I unzipped and started the charade. If I were to rate all human pleasures, I guess peeing after holding it all back under such pressure would definitely be up there in the top 3. On top of it, I always had an artistic tend of mind. So, it was no wonder that I started pelting the wall with my high pressure output in all sorts of modern art designs. That was Wrong Decision Number 2.

As I was reveling in this divine God given pleasure, the first signs of discord appeared in my paradise. It was no snake this time, it was a grand old lady of about 70-80 wearing huge soda glass specs and Tamil Iyer style sari. She started looking at my direction with more than a grandmotherly interest. I was left uncomfortable and fidgety by the type of stares. My artistic designs started going awry and I made a total mess of it (looking back on it, the design might have still grossed a few million dollars at any reasonable art fair going by the stuff I have seen on display).

But designs were the last thing on my mind then. What with an octogenarian staring so avidly at my manhood. Uh! The insult of it all! Where was our culture going to? If this is how the old guard behaved, what of the NextGen? Deciding to take matters by their head (pun un-intended) I changed the angle. The problem with this new angle being that every body going up and down the road could now see the performance. I got a few “bloody-pervert-exhibitionist-lets-murder-him” looks before I decided to revert back to the original angle.

A voyeuristic grandmother was better than a full life time worth of nasty looks. With my Greek God looks ladies were prone to look (quit laughing!), but all this while, I got this gut feeling that there is something I was missing out. With a heavy heart, I stopped the flow and re-zipped, slightly peeved at being robbed of my divine pleasure. As I was moving away from the wall, the old lady moved out in front of me. In the millisecond before she opened her mouth, I at last understood the issue. The “wall” on which I was peeing was actually the wall of her house, most probably her bedroom I guess. For all I knew, she could be allergic to uric fumes! The only thing I was sure about was that I was in for a round of counseling.

I was thus fully prepared to get a lashing in Kannada/Tamil on the ills of my generation when to my surprise she starts berating me in the finest oxford accented English I’ve heard. It’s rather easy to hear a few strong words in a language you don’t know. You just need to hang your head in pretended shame and then walk away with a hunched back. I was totally taken aback by this outburst in a language I knew. She gave me a thorough lecture on the ills of relieving myself in public. The same indiscipline and lack of manners/culture that which is the root cause of all our nations’ problems. In short she drew parallels between me and the national ills and found that I was the reason for the national ills. After about two minutes I really felt ill!

Like all old people, she too had learnt the difficult art of patience and forgiveness. So she finally dismissed me after getting solemn promises from my side that I would never repeat the crime again. I was relieved, I could go now, but before I even turned to go, she asked that final question.

“You look like an educated guy, where do you work?” That was when I noticed the company tag around my neck! For one moment I quietly visualized the next day’s news paper “Techie found urinating on old lady’s bedroom wall”. Believe me, it didn’t look too nice. So, I quietly took the tag off my neck and put it in my pocket and replied “I am a student”. They don’t call me quick thinking Abe for nothing you know!

I had noticed by now that the lady lacked a lot in the eyesight department, that she could only barely make out people with whom she was talking to, from one feet away. My faith in the old guard was thus restored! She had not noticed me removing my tag, Thank God!

Old Lady: “ok son, don’t do it ever again, now you can go!”
Me (appearing subdued and humble): “ok”
Truth is, for quite some time after that, I never peed in a public place.

1 comment:

Nishanth said...

U were caught peeing also... do i need to mention in what all acts were u caught RED HANDED....... :-)