Hob-Knobbing

[This is a piece of absolute nonsense I wrote for my college journal a long, long time ago. While my other posts are under construction, bore yourself with this one.]

This is a woeful tale. You may have shed buckets of tears by the time you’re done. Or may have kicked the bucket itself. In fact, the bucket plays a pivotal role in this story. This is the saga of the H and the C, those things that you turn in the bathroom, when you want to get the filth off you, or soon after it’s out of you, as the case may be. But this epic piece of literature is “awash” with questions.

Left Or Right? What an innocuous little query. It could be asked to elicit political leanings from the replier (a word I made up specifically for the occasion), or infinitely more importantly, to find out the way to the nearest bar. It could be asked to avoid collision with a speeding bus, or, quite interestingly, with the intention of getting thrown out of Marching School. But I, on the other hand, ask myself that question, every time I’m inside the confines of an unfamiliar loo.

H and C - those critical carriers of knowledge embossed on water-knobs all over the world. The knobs may themselves be gold or plastic, round or square, but the letters are always there. Ay, there’s the rub. They’re always there, true. But how accurate they are, if at all, is anybody’s guess. I have fool-proof (and water-proof) evidence to believe that this is a problem that many Indians face. Therefore, my grouse, as reason enough for an article, does hold water.

Simply put, it’s this. Which of the blasted rotating things dispenses hot water, and which one cold? For the information of those in the habit of pointing out how stupid I am (that is, most of humanity), let me reiterate that I know H and C are there for precisely that purpose. But however, dear learned friends and co-bathers, more often than not, the information is misleading, as it eventually “turns” out.

How often have you, in a bathroom not your own, been in for a rude shock when boiling hot water comes out when you were all ready for that lovely cool shower? Believe me, it’s a burning issue. It’s happened to me enough number of times to warrant lamenting. Immediately after, when I look at the wretched knobs with sunken heart and scalded skin, I can almost hear H telling C in unconcealed and unapologetic glee, “Yet another steamy scene! Now that’s what I call a fitting reply!” How I hate Sknobs!

Others have also narrated similar experiences. One such was of the shower with both Cs, in a bathroom that was somewhere in chilly Shimla. It may not exactly have been a mistake. Perhaps it was a discreet way of giving you the cold shoulder.

Remedies are hard to come by. One could be to have a dry run, literally. Observe the water fall harmlessly to the ground, and then, if things don’t cool down or heat up as per your desire, proceed to control the knobs, now with the power of knowledge. Don’t forget to look smugly at the knobs and say “Nice try”, though. Buckets can also be used to do the dirty work, it gets them “brimming” with confidence. No guarantees, however.

Sometimes I feel (to the pleasure of all family counselors I’m sure), that I should discuss my problem with my parents. I suggest this method to all. It really makes you feel better once you share whatever it is that is bothering you with your family, especially when you’re in hot water. Believe me, they usually know which knob (or ear) to twist.

Thus it was that I asked my dad what exactly is the secret to a great bath, or at least a water-temperature that is in line with expectations. He looked at me, no doubt pleased that I had become mature enough to seek answers to the great questions of Life, the Universe and Everything. And then he said, in a voice that didn’t exactly sound like that of a proud father, “Go study for your exams”.

Not to be disheartened, I recently went to Iraq to find out more. After all, its home to the Baathist Party. But as it happens, the only knobs they know about are those that control cylinders full of Nerve Gas. Not too helpful.

My quest for the Ultimate Truth continues. Someday, I will know. And when I have gathered all the knowledge, rest assured, I will come clean.

It will be my water, and my loo. But not my Waterloo.