Sandstorm In A Teacup

The sun had gone down, and Jaipur by night – especially outside the pink part of the city – is a hectic, hair-raising experience. Rickshaw driver after auto rickshaw driver had upped their prices (white man’s tax), including one cheeky sod who asked for five times the going rate just to take us to the station. We chose McDonalds as the best way to sit out the three remaining hours, but I was starting to need:

Toilet no. 5: McDonalds

Ahhhh, trusty old McDonalds. You can pop in for a McShit almost anywhere in the world and be guaranteed a clean loo – because no matter where you are, it’s clean. The employees spend 90% of their time cleaning, don’t you know. It's essential to the McDonalds brand, don't you know. Yes, we're clean people the world over, so please - have a McShit on us.

Well someone tell Head Office that the Jaipur branch have been sleeping! I was beginning to feel distinctly rotten, and almost any toilet would do. But not this one. It was literally swimming in filth and detritus – and a staff member had just exited with a mop and bucket, which had given me some hope. I almost vomited, and we had to leave. Rakshet, who was turning out to be something of a deity in my eyes, recommended the Maurya Sheriton Hotel which was conveniently close to the station – from which our night train to Udaipur would depart at 9pm. So this takes us to…

Toilet no.6: The Maurya Sheriton

Now the heatstroke and the runs were getting serious. This place was pure luxury, and the toilet looked great – they even had the trained attendant on hand with hot towels, but he would have to wait. 30 minutes, a prayer to the Hindu God of Toilets and three flushes later, I staggered out of the loo feeling distinctly dizzy and starry-eyed. The same attendant who opened the door for me handed me a hot towel – as if nothing had happened – and I rushed back into the loo for one final push.

One more hot towel, and I felt compelled to give him 10 rupees for his trouble. After all, it was a nice, warm towel.

All of this had left Shanaz in a bit of a spin, and we wound up 30 minutes later in one of the “Resting Rooms” at the train station – a little over-priced for what looks little better than a hospital room for the criminally insane, but at least it was somewhere to park ourselves. As soon as the train pulled into the station, we piled on and waited for the train to move so that I could visit…

Toilet no.7: The Jaipur-Udaipur Express

I was becoming quite proficient at folding up toilet paper so that it would cover the entire toilet seat. It’s quite an art, and I will be holding classes and demonstrations around the country over the summer. Basically, it involves two folds, but I can’t give any more trade secrets away right now.

This art was particularly handy in the “western-style” toilet on the Jaipur to Udaipur night train. As I sat down, I noticed a particularly cooling effect on my rear end. On closer inspection, this toilet was not, in fact, connected to any pipes or complicated “waste release” system. You just, erm, do your business onto the tracks. As the train is moving. But let’s be honest, this was not the time for minor quibbles such as “my bum’s cold”. My stomach was doing somersaults and it had to be sorted.

Shanaz had procured a variety of drugs and liquids from the stalls along the platform, and things were getting gradually better. In fact, despite the shaking of the train, I was able to drop off and wake up just before arriving in a place one hundred times better than Jaipur – Udaipur, the “Venice of the East”.