This Is Your Bladder Calling

Caveat lector! This post is not for those whom Mummy brought up to daydream through a six-hour journey in a seat directly over the rear wheel of a Haryana Roadways bus going to Kaithal. Without their bladder once reminding them what relief used to feel like.

I’ve heard there are such people.

For us lesser mortals of the female variety, life is a constant hunt for the loo. And desperation when you can’t find one. Like the time I got an auto-wala to stop in a deepening dusk in Delhi so that I could relieve myself by the kerbside. What can I say? I was eight months pregnant. And the auto-wala did look tactfully away. He even helped me up from my squat. It took me several years to forgive the son that indignity.

Digression over. Cut to present times. The times of Covid-19.

The husband and I were standing on our strip of a balcony. ‘There’s another pair,’ he crowed delightedly, pointing to the two cops who were strolling below us. That’s the husband’s hobby du jour – counting cops.

Below us, Saturday evening was on in full swing. Hence the cops. Swansea had just come out of full lockdown. Bars and restaurants were open. And people were thronging them. But thronging outside on the piazza close to us. For that’s all they could do: order their drinks as takeaway and stand around drinking them. Looking at the crowds near us, you would think Covid-19 was a Prozac-induced nightmare. Never mind the cops, they were there merely for the husband’s delectation.

‘Look at that, will you?’ The husband’s tone had changed. I looked. Two girls were emerging sheepishly from the large bush that stood between us and the river. No marks for guessing what they were doing there. Swansea’s bars and restaurants were open, but not their toilets.

I sympathised. Deeply. Caught short on my walk the other day, I had looked hopefully into the door of M&S. Only to be waved haughtily away. I then took my bladder to Debenhams. Which was open after several months of quarantine. ‘Our customer toilets are not open,’ said the girl at the counter with the cheery insouciance of one who has known only the pleasures of sex, not the aftermath. ‘You’ll have to use the toilet in the bus stand.’

Now the thing is, the bus stand charges you for using their toilet. 50 pence a go. And I believe firmly that God created us to emit bodily fluids at regular intervals. Ergo, it is beyond our control. Ergo further, we should not have to pay for things we cannot control.

My knickers were twisted twice over, but I made it to Tesco. It was a serendipitous moment. The cleaning crew had not closed the loo till further notice. And, there was a free stall! Oh the relief!

Revert to Saturday evening on the balcony. The bush girls had strolled away. But the husband was still on his British foot. ‘This is not India!’ It really wasn’t. Last time I went to Noida, you couldn’t see the footpath for the toilets mushrooming everywhere. But maybe Covid-19 has struck there too.

Meanwhile, this is the moment I realise my belly can be put to good use. ‘Gosh, the baby’s kicking so bad, I’ve really got to go!’ Pregnant bladders can open many doors, mainly toilet doors.