Ouch, way to go, Esha!
“Oh . . . I’m . . . I’m really sorry. I wasn’t told,” I mumbled in embarrassment.
“That’s okay. Well, follow me,” Jas replied as she led the way through the hallway on the left.
I followed her up a small set of cement stairs to the second floor and into a large, dark bedroom, as Dhadhi trailed behind us. There was a stale smell in the room, indicating that it wasn’t used very often.
“Sorry, the electricity in the area has been acting funny all day,” Jas explained as she lit a lamp on the dressing table. “This should help out for tonight. I placed new clean sheets on the bed. The nights can be chilly, so I put a blanket out as well for you just in case. As you can see, Chotu has already brought up your suitcases. This room has a washroom connected to it, and it is all yours, so please feel at home. Dhadhi Ji’s room is right next to yours on the left, if you need anything, and Ekant and I are just down the hall. Are you sure you do not want anything to eat?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m fine,” I said impatiently. All I wanted was a shower and to get out of my sweaty clothes.
“Here, child,” came Dhadhi’s voice as she held up the emerald sack. She had been so quiet that I had almost forgotten she was still in the room with us, holding the urn. “This belongs to you, keep it safe.”
I gently retrieved the urn from her trembling hands and placed it on the dressing table before turning to my newfound family members and bidding them good night.
“We will see you in the morning, Esha!” Jas called out as she guided the weeping Dhadhi out of the room. “Dhadhi Ji, you must control your emotions,” I could hear her say as they made their way down the hallway stairs.
Alone at last!
“Ugh! I’m so tired and hot!” I complained as I threw off my pullover. “I can’t believe Mom made me wear this thing in this heat.”
“Don’t go showing off those arms and bare skin when you arrive in Delhi,” she had said as we raced towards my gate in the airport. “Make sure you cover up! It is not Canada over there!”
“I’d like to see her wearing a sweatshirt in this heart,” I said as I turned my attention to the room I was going to be sleeping in for the next week.
The bed was quite large, possibly a king size. There was only one mattress on it, which was draped in a red sheet. Jas had placed a thin white blanket on top. Similar to the living room, the furniture was wooden. The left side of the room consisted of a wooden dresser and cabinet, and to the right was a painted blue door leading to the washroom. There was a framed painting on either side of the washroom door. The left one had two young boys standing in front of an incomplete wall. They were clad in orange garb and stood side by side with one arm raised. I figured it had to be some kind of revolutionary Indian thing.
The painting on the right, however, was that of a male and was much more familiar. My mother had a similar painting back home. It was of some Sikh Guru, whose name I couldn’t really remember at the moment. This particular one was clad in a yellow and blue robe with a gold turban. A red feather ran along the top of the turban, while a smaller peacock feather stuck out in front. His right hand held up a sword with a golden handle, while the left arm held onto the reins of a white horse. These too were painted in gold. It wasn’t your typical saintly photo. This Sikh Guru, with the extravagant attire and largely defined eyes, looked like a determined prince riding out to battle.
My attention was suddenly diverted by movement in my belly. I hadn’t gone to the washroom since my connection in London. I quickly stepped into the washroom and hit the light.
“What the . . . where is the . . .” Words escaped me as I turned my head in every direction, seeking a toilet. I scratched my head in confusion. There was no toilet! There was a shower head on the left and a small white sink on the wall in the middle, but no toilet.
“Great! Where am I supposed to go now?” I cried out as I held onto my stomach, which was now becoming more and more impatient. Just as I turned to leave, I noticed a glimmer in the right corner. It was a chain. My eyes trailed the length of the chain, and I realized it was attached to a small, thin pipe that ran along the ceiling and down the back wall. As I looked down, I noticed a hole. There were tiles in place, outlining the oval shape; a shape that looked very much like . . . like the seat of a toilet.
“Ugh! This can’t be it. This cannot be the toilet!” I said, looking around the washroom again, hoping that a regular, civilized toilet would just magically materialize and save me. No such luck.
“Okay, Esha pull yourself together,” I said as I tried to calm myself, “and face the fact that you have to go, even if it’s . . . it’s . . . on . . . or . . . in . . . this thing. But first, I have to be sure.”
I grabbed a hold of the chain, took a deep breath and gave it a yank. There was a gurgling sound, followed by the sound of water. I looked down at the hole and saw that a small wave of water had splashed into it, and hopefully retreated as well.
“I guess I have no choice,” I concluded as the moans from my stomach grew louder by the minute. I had to go badly. With a sigh, I closed the washroom door behind me and locked it. The last thing I wanted was to be caught with my pants down squatting over a hole on my first night in India. First I bent down and took a long careful look at the hole, just to make sure that nothing was lurking inside it. I shuddered at the thought of a snake slithering up. I shook my head and tried to breathe. Finally, confident that the coast was clear, I stood up and planted my feet on either side of the hole. I pulled down my pants and squatted.
“Oh, no!” I cried out, standing up before anything started. “Toilet paper!” I looked around once again and found nothing. So I ran back into the bedroom and threw open my suitcase. There lay a half-dozen rolls of toilet paper. Thinking back, I felt stupid that I had made fun of my mother when she was loading these rolls into my suitcase. She had insisted that I would have use for them, and I’d thought she was just wasting precious luggage space. Why wouldn’t they have toilet paper?
“Thanks, Mom!” I said as I ran back into the washroom. I locked the door once again and took my position above the hole. I have to admit, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had appeared it would be, but it took a lot of concentration and aim. After a few minutes, I stood up and retreated. I yanked the chain, eagerly waiting for the water to splash away the remains, but nothing happened. I yanked the chain even harder, but again nothing happened.
“This is just freakin’ great! Now what?” I was beginning to panic. “Please, please, please, oh wonderful Mr. Chain, just flush!” I begged. I held onto the chain once again and pulled it down hard, only this time I held it down for a while longer. After what seemed like an eternity, the gurgling sound appeared, and water began to splash into the hole. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cried as I made my way to the sink to wash my hands then ran out of the washroom, closing the door behind me.
I looked at my watch; a half hour had passed. With slightly sore legs and a nauseous feeling, but with relief that it was behind me, I fell onto the bed and closed my eyes. I was exhausted.
SIX
The breeze was warm and inviting. The light from the red sun was slowly fading away, casting a shadow on the mountains and hilltops. The grass was soft, just like Johnny’s hands, which now rested upon my own. As I laid my head against his lean shoulders and
