New India's toilets are threatening our manly traditions

In a country of a billion people, a decent job is hard to find. You can openly run a prostitution business while pretending to advertise beanbags. You can take a picture of yourself with a camera stuck to half your face while looking in the mirror and call yourself a photographer. You can even earn almost as much as a National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme recipient by being a theatre actor. But the award for the most pointless excuse for employment goes to ~a member of the CPI(M)~ a hotel restroom attendant. A hotel management student so sh*tty that four years of training and fathers’ ancestral property on sale later, he was handing towels to overfed guests after they took a dump resembling Chernobyl. How did this happen? Where in the process of evolution did we become so lazy that when faced with a tap that did not magically start pouring water after detecting our hands, we needed help from another human to twist it and hand us a towel? When did it become okay to have a man sit in a restroom all day in what is a rectal radiation equivalent of living underneath a cellphone tower? Does one get a promotion in the form of a mask? Do benefits include helping Bollywood stars snort cocaine off the marble tops? Even men who sit inside unventilated elevators for 12-hour non-stop shifts must be like, “Bro, kill yourself”. [caption id=“attachment_1032783” align=“alignleft” width=“380”]  Reuters[/caption] First, a restroom is a private space. As an Indian man, it is my duty to open my zip and start scratching my scrotum atleast 200 metres before I reach the actual urinal. Do hotels know how creepy it is to have a guy just standing there, making emotional Enrique eye contact as soon as you open the door? Also, I enjoy my rajma chawal. A buffet meal isn’t complete if at least five things from the dessert menu aren’t falling over each other. If my intestines decide to compose a dub step tune on the commode the last thing I want to do is make even more eye contact with the guy who heard the whole thing. Second, it’s a human rights violation if I’m put under pressure to wash my hands. Every Indian man knows that the correct way of washing one’s hands is walking out of the restroom without washing them to build immunity. If one believes in hygiene, Indian technique requires lightly sprinkling some water over ones fingers, running them through ones hair, admiring self in the mirror, wiping hands on the back of ones jeans and walking out. How can one be forced to break such a longstanding Indian tradition? I believe our hotels have been forced into hiring these toilet marshals because of the destruction they see inside mall toilets. There is always one person inside the men’s toilet who didn’t get the memo and uses the sink to have a complete bath. This includes multiple mouth gargles and finishing the diluted pink soap (stored in a mineral water bottle with a hole in its cap). All this while a person who has to relieve himself makes the unfortunate discovery that Indian men in malls don’t flush. I’m surprised we don’t have a game show called “Flushout - Zor Ka Hagga” yet. Imagine: each contestant really wants to use the toilet, but only one stall in the mall is clean. If they choose the right stall, they get a jet spray that works. If they choose one where someone has already having left their mark, they humiliate themselves and accompany host Aman Varma into random people’s houses to check how white their toilets are. Still a better love story than Twilight. I am going to launch an online petition against hotels to stop deploying staff inside restrooms. In the meantime, if you go to a hotel and take their help in washing your hands, be kind and tip these gentlemen. It is the least you can do to help them deal with this sh*t.