Need of the century-lavatories.

I got a nightmare that night. I was on my bowel bed and I couldn’t pass out what I wanted. And I died. I died cos I couldn’t pass out my dumps. I think of all the weird deaths ever recorded in the history of mankind and I would rate my death right up there. My tombstone would read something like this-

PETER KENNEDY
till 2011
First man to die of ‘shit-coagulation’. Amen.

I don’t wanna die like that. Ever. I don’t wanna be the late grandfather to some kids who will be the butt of all jokes cos he couldn’t take the call of nature in time. No. No way in hell is that gonna happen.

Hence began my crusade against the worst enemy of mankind. And I planned to revamp my house in such a way that I won’t have to wait a millisecond to pass out the fermented thingys banging inside my stomach. 

Pangs of growing a moustache.

I grew up in a country where the measurement of manliness is done by the amount of hair you have on your face. Yeah, seriously, we Indians must introduce a better manliness rating system, right? And it doesn't help if you are from a race which does not have a very good record of allowing natural facial hair growth. So while my growth hormones were really running wild and everything else was growing longer, there was still no sign of that precious, prickly manliness measurement.

Then I read somewhere about taking matters into your own hands if I want some results. Hence, I decided to go on a mission to get a face full of ‘women-attracting’ hair. 

I started on my mission by gouging on newspapers because this is a medium where there is no censorship and if you know how to look in the right places you will find a solution for every weird problem you have. My friend had a problem with his girl and he consulted a doctor from a paper’s advert.  His problem wasn't solved but when he told his girl about his visit to the doctor, his girl thought he is retarded and they broke up. I guess, that’s a solution nonetheless, right?

So my search for my solution landed me in a shop that has a solution for hair growth. It probably wasn't a typical solution for me, but then I applied my super-fast brain and in a minute I figured out the hair on my head is the same as the hair that is gonna come on my face! Beat that!!

I bought a weird, greenish thingy which the shopkeeper said was the best you can get anywhere in the world. Then he went on about how natural it was and stuff like that. But he never asked me why I needed the stuff cos my head was still full of hair. I guess nobody cares, eh?

That night I applied a generous amount of hair-growing-converted-to-mustache-growing liquid on my face and waited. I waited for a minute. I meditated. Then I waited for another minute. I looked at the mirror. Nothing. I meditated again. I waited for a day. I looked at the mirror. Nothing. I thought this is a part of the mustache-struggle, you know. You get nothing without a few hurdles. And I wasn't gonna give up.

But then a year passed and I began to realize this thing isn't working. I guess I had to struggle with something else. So, I gave up my green liquid and went on to another bright solution.

One day, while traveling by bus, I met this very cool gentleman with a double-my-lifetime’s worth of mustache on his face. I felt naked sitting beside him. But then with some courage, I managed to ask his how he got such a lustrous pair of half-mustaches. His next word was my way to heaven. He became my Guru. He became my Gandhi, my savior. And he had managed to do it by uttering only a single word, “Shave”.  

I literally jumped off the running bus to the supermarket to buy a full shaving-kit. I had found my way! I got the best blade in town, the best shaving cream in the world and the best after-shave in the universe. I ran home and dragged my never-took-bath body to the bathroom. I pulled off the packaging, read the instructions, and started shaving. I did it twice. I meditated for a minute and shaved again. And again.

I became so obsessed with getting my mustache that I neglected the earthly feelings I had. Those souls I had to meet were sacrificed in my heavenly quest for a mustache. But I knew this was a part of the struggle. I will see 

I became frustrated at times. Never seeing any bit of the black hair, I was yearning for! But I toiled on! I watched TV with men with a mustache, gliding away with girls in their arms. I kept saying to myself that my day is also close! My mustache is coming! I kept reading interviews of famous men whose mustaches were the only things that landed them to where they were. Interviews about how they swayed their mustaches left and right, how delicate they became in winter, how they felt when the coffee stains crept into their mustaches.

Then half-a-decade later, it came. My mustache, my very own. I was as delighted as a new father. I thought of running naked 

How the world changes. Here I was, yearning for attention on my new mustache and all I could see were looks of disgust, hatred. I momentarily thought it was jealousy, but interestingly, nobody else had a mustache. I asked around. “Why isn't there anyone with a mustache?!” And there it was, fashion had changed. It was time for the naked face.