The blue ice: a shit-com

For whatever reasons, birds always found my head as a coveted shitting destination. Even in a crowded environment, if a bird is flying around, I would gear up myself holding a file or book overhead. My transient breath of relief would be annuled as the raven comes back swifter dropping on me accurately like a targeted missile. I was brutally splattered with bird-droppings during my short stint in Indian Institute of Science, which boasted of highest density of nasty crows (kauwa). For the first time in my life, I wore a Govinda-style yellow shirt to camouflage the shitty polka-drops.

The fear of bird-droppings soon extended to any flying object as I would hide even at sight of aeroplane. I always wondered what happens to the shit in the air. Most convenient way would be to disperse it in vastness of atmosphere, and cruise away. The untimely rains and windy splatters. My curiousity ended recently when an elderly woman in Bhopal (city in central India) got hit by a huge chunk of ice fallen from sky. Early investigations suggested it could be ‘blue ice’, human excreta disposed from aeroplanes which gets frozen in stratosphere. My fear wasn’t completely ungrounded and some do throw the shit right up in the air, especially Indian planes devoid of sanitary space on ground.

While the aeroplane mystery took some time, Indian railways were pretty blatant and open-minded from its inception. A hole in the toilet peeps directly down on track. At a usual train velocity of 150 km/hr, a 15 minute shit of yours can make roughly 38 km trail of shit droppings. Considering ever-engaged toilets in trains, the multi-origin shitty trail would extend from origin to destination spanning some 1000 kms. One of the royal heir I heard of, always took a local 30 minute railway stretch every morning at 6 0’clock, only to shit in moving train! His habit seem to have ended at a serious note when he disregarded the statutatory warning displayed in Indian Railways – Please do not use toilets when the train stops at platform. People say, constipated Raja-Saa’b continued his rituals even when train stopped. Sanitation fellows with long brooms began cleaning the toilets, shoving through holes beneath the train, and gave a powerful thrust when they found anything obstructive. This time, it was Raja Saa’b’s ass!

I haven’t utilised public toilets much in life, since I considered them as some sacred love destination. Similar to temple walls, toilet walls too are studded with scribbled names of ‘love-couples’. I wonder how somebody can have an amorous feeling while shitting, and scribble his flame’s name. Extreme love! Isn’t it? As I recently travelled and about to position myself strategically on a shaking commode, I found it written on toilet wall – I love you Priya. I pity the love of poor girl Priya with the shitty boy.

There were days even in my life, when village toilets were reserved for women who seem to have incessant affair with bathrooms. I would be forced to stroll to bamboo-plantations and ease myself with bushy grasses rubbing my body. Umpeen times would I change my position as I would imagine somebody staring at me and breaching my privacy. At a distance, I saw a queue of villagers shitting calmly with one palm on their cheek as if in a great contemplation. Surely, those early days devoid of toilets, gave India great philosophers. Even today, at least my blogging ideas shoot off from long gruelling sessions in toilet. Doesn’t my blog stink?

[a satire on need of sanitation in developing nations; a sequel to earlier blog ‘Love is in the air’]

The intelligent idiot

While rest of the world thinks I am a genius, atleast there is one human on this planet who proclaims me an idiot because I always bring an expired sandwich-bread! Would Newton or Einstein would have checked expiry date on a bread? Being a doctor, I do mean what an expiry means. But, this bloody bread expires within a week, as if all the fungus in the world are waiting for that very hour to infect all the humans. The fury of expired bread-loaf….hooohooohaaaa…..won’t spare anyone.

Well, this may be one idiocy, but there are plenty.

# I always withdraw twice from ATM and play with all the buttons, just to see an irritated face of person standing behind me.

# I always get down to pee when a bus halts even for a minute. I strongly believe, bus always stops to bestow this pleasure on us.

# I love to stand in a busy traffic on Maratahalli bridge (bangaloreans would know travails of it), just to catch a glimpse of dog-sex happening beneath; and as I smile in ecstasy, many passerby bikers join me to create a huge traffic jam.

# I always give tip to the waiter beforehand, because I believe he would fart on my burger to make it spicy otherwise.

# I never put fan on max speed and never sleep directly below it, because one astrologer told I would die of a fan falling on me.

# I have thrown some 437 coins in river ganges from the passing train, since somebody told it fulfils the wishes.

# I love to ease myself in the toilet in running train, but I never use toilet in a flight.

(I believe plane toilets have some vacuum-cleaner mechanism, which would pull my mojo into it.)

# I go to toilet three times every morning, one for headlines, one for editorial and one for sports page reading.

# I pretend as if my vehicle broke down when somebody honks from behind, giving an abrupt stop, jerky starts and slow nudges.

# I recently had a wonderful dinner at a marriage party, and couldn’t find my family because they were sitting in true marriage party happening in some other marriage hall on same street.

# I remember the full name of Pablo Picasso

Pablo Diego Jose Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Maria de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santisima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso

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P.S. Will be back with another post if alive

(I am making a suicidal attempt of eating four loafs of an expired bread while writing this post)