This article has been written by Garvit Sharma (Batch of 2021)
I’m lying in bed. It’s 10 pm right now. I have been procrastinating for almost 3 weeks. I have an LPD project to start. I have 3 special repeats to write. There is a potential year loss on the way. Deep waters, right? This begs the question: why am I thinking about poop?
Disclaimer: How does one write about poop and not gross people out? I don’t know. The purpose of this article is not to gross you out, but you will be. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.
Poop. Faeces. Excrement. Stool. Shit. If you wanna sound cool: turd. If you wanna sound cooler: tatti. Everyone does it. Some people are sensible enough to use the toilet. Some people think their room is a toilet. Daaru peena paap hai. The modern version of the flush toilet was invented by Sir John Harington more than 400 years ago. Sir John Harington (who happens to be Kit Harington’s relative) was ahead of his time. He was smart enough to do in the 16th century what people can’t seem to do in the 21st. Flush.
The Flush: A basic need for most people, a contraption for some.
The Flush: A simple enough concept for some, rocket science for others.
The Flush: Greatest invention for sensible people, useless artefact for imbeciles.
It is absolutely mind-boggling as to how a human being could forget to flush. Makes me want to slightly modify that line often repeated by teachers: ‘Did you forget to bring your lunch? No, right? Then why did you forget to do your homework?’ to ‘Did you forget to wipe your ass? No, right? Then why-in-God’s-fucking-name-did-you-forget-to-FLUSH?’ Although to be very honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if these assholes forget to wipe their assholes as well. I mean, I have seen men in MHOR standing at the urinal peeing BAREFOOT. Men. Standing. At the urinal. Peeing. Barefoot. Imagine having the residue of every MHOR gentleman’s pee on the base of your foot. And imagine being okay with it. Yehi to khoobsoorti hai NLSIU ki sahib. Idhar kuch bhi ho sakta hai.
Enough about pee, coming back to poop (never imagined I’d have to type such a sentence in my entire life). There is one person on the first floor of Ganga Hostel who does not seem to understand the concept of flushing (or maybe he does). You know who you are, you filthy piece of excrement. You are the one who has inspired this article. I think you need to be potty trained one more time. And you have been rightly christened Turdman by the residents of MHOR. People won’t understand the trauma of looking at the toilet bowl and finding giant pieces of turd floating around until they have seen it for themselves. Years of travelling in Indian Railways did not train me for this. Living in Uttar Pradesh didn’t train me for this. Nothing trained me for this. It’s one of those things that you can’t be trained for. It’s a sight that can leave you scarred for life. Eat (your own) shit, Turdman.
However, I am also extremely worried about Turdman’s physical health, just the same way I am worried about every other resident’s mental health. That day is not far away when people say: ‘Bro I need to go to a psychiatrist. Floating poop gave me PTSD’. Although, in Turdman’s defence, I would like to mention that he shits bricks, or something that resembles bricks. Normal flushes just wouldn’t work. We need industrial flushes or something like that. It’s true that Turdman leaves behind poop. But I think it’s not for lack of trying. I really want to know what Turdman’s diet is. Do you fucking eat concrete dude? Does your diet consist of asphalt? Are you secretly a rock-type Pokemon? Are you The Thing from Fantastic Four? What are you? And why do you hate us? Who hurt you bro?
On a slightly serious note, it shouldn’t be the job of a certain Krishna Gowda or a certain Hanumanthappa to clean our shit. Residents of MHOR are pissed, yes. And also they are very entitled (including yours truly). We don’t have to clean the shit up. The hostel caretakers have to. Some dude even pooped in the shower cubicle in July last year (Hey Vasavada, I think that’s why Gowda sir changed his ringtone). I understand that some people don’t have a sense of direction. But the fact that a cubicle does not have a toilet seat should be enough indication that you are not supposed to empty your fucking bowels in there. More shockingly, some dude in Cauvery pooped on the floor inside the toilet cubicle. The toilet seat is right there man! I mean, move your ass a couple feet and bingo! You have hit the bull’s eye. You have successfully pooped in a toilet seat and Sir John Harington is dancing in heaven. You have successfully adult-ed! You have now done what majority of your friends have been doing since they were 4. You are late to the party, you cute little poopster. Have fun pooping where poop needs to be pooped.
And as for you, Turdman. Your days are numbered. Apart from you, 29 other people live on the first floor of Ganga. All 29 of these are after your life. And all 29 of these want the answer to this one very, very important question: ‘Aye tatti tera naam kya hai?’
Thanks for reading. May your toilet bowls be squeaky clean and may you never forget to flush. I am not asking you to do this for me. I am asking you to do this for our Lord and Saviour Sir John Harington’s soul. He gave us the King in the North. We owe him that much.
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