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This is a story of falsification, pacification, gratification & escalation...
About 20 years ago I went home from KGP on one summer vacation of 40 days slipping Rs 3,000 in my pocket (my 3-month-take-home-salary).
And was told by my mother (then 70) that Father (then 80, arthritic) slipped and fell outside our far-off toilet on a hot midday, was screaming feebly for help, and was stranded for more than fifteen minutes till a search party went to his rescue.
At once I decided that I would gift him an attached bathroom.
The house was solid, 40 years old then, linear like a train, and the walk to the Indian style toilet was about 30 feet.
Father promptly put his foot down saying he can't imagine a stinking bathroom within his bedroom, that he had used Indian hunching toilets all of his 80 years, and is not going to bloody well sit stark naked on a hot-seat holding his chin like that stupid bronze Thinker of Rodin .
I said OK...that was the first lie...
Mother said she made inquiries and a temporary shed with temporary walls and a temporary door with permanent fixtures would cost about Rs 3,000, and no more should be spent on an aging couple.
I said OK...that was my next...
I brought our mason and he inspected and certified that a toilet can be attached only to the front bedroom and would be sticking out visibly like a sore thumb in front of the splendid house and he wouldn't approve of a shed but it has to be a pukka structure which would cost about Rs 10,000 in all, and he wouldn't work on a contract but on daily wages for him and his lousy assistant.
I said OK...
Father being a retired Govt Official insisted I get the municipality approval before starting any permanent addition to his beloved house.
I said OK....
And I assured him that nowadays one can go ahead with slight modifications and later on get the municipality approval, much like a love marriage in which the wedding takes place in a hurry and the horoscopes suitably tallied at leisure later on.
That was the Pacification.
When sand and gravel were accumulating outside our gate, a municipal informer came in and threatened dire consequences like waiting for the structure to be completely built and than fetching the demolition squad.
I asked him to fetch instead his senior-most official for a hot cup of coffee and gold biscuits; and told mother that since my conduct rules won't permit, she has to take care of the Gratification.
She agreed reluctantly but not being used to it, she made the coffee and biscuits sweet in cash but sour in kind (she abused them black and blue).
The carpenter was brought in for the woodwork of the door and the ventilators. I insisted that they be of teak like the others and that alone cost Rs 8,000.
That was the first Escalation..
I insisted by and by as work progressed that the attached bathroom should be raised to the same height as the bedroom so it wouldn't look like an Appendix, the ceiling should be of reinforced concrete, the added parapet walls should be tiled like the rest of the frontage, new soak-pits should be dug instead of laying long undependable pipes, the color of the new walls should match with the rest of the house etc etc....
A series of Escalations..
After 40 days the work was just about through and I told the plumber that after I quit, he should install the best available Western style commode.
The bill came to Rs 25,000 and I had to raise goodwill-cash which could be reimbursed as soon as I reached KGP from my provident fund loan (for performing the marriage of my 20th dependent mythical sister).
Apparently everyone who visited us after it was finished started asking:
"Where is the attached bathroom? Where is it?? We can't see any attachment at all!"...
....The thing merged so sbugly with the rest of the house that to this day 20 years later not even municipal informers have a clue....
After the reluctant first week, Father apparently used to take The Hindu to his attached toilet and had to be coaxed and cajoled to come out since everybody in the house was queuing up...the old far-off Indian style toilet is in disuse except when I go there...
...Can't sit stark naked on a hot-seat holding his chin like that stupid Bronze Thinker of Rodin.....
...Posted by Ishani
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