Before we start, a reminder that it is in the national interest that we conduct this week’s column with proper decorum. So, I would request readers not to giggle or twitter for the whole duration of the ceremony. As with all write-ups of a sensitive nature such as this, we also open with a statutory warning to all unaccompanied minors that this week’s column is rated X and only readers who can prove with a photo ID that they are 18 or above are allowed to proceed (with caution) beyond this  point. You two hiding there under the table, run along home to Mama now. 

For legal reasons, management would also like to warn clients who are having breakfast to stop reading at this point in time, and remain in your bunkers until the all-clear is sounded. We will not be held responsible for any reverse peristalsis in the vicinity of the duodenum. (Don’t say we didn’t warn you, - Ed.)

OK, now that we are only adults here, let us get to the crux of the biscuit. It is still a mystery why human beings find the activities of each others’ digestive tracts so funny. Let’s take a moment or two here to analyse why, for instance, it is that we find someone breaking the sound barrier while lifting a heavy object an event of such vast amusement that we can’t help recounting in minute detail its auditory and olfactory attributes to a circle of peers who then break into paroxysms of scatological laughter. Really. What is so funny about a gas attack?

After all, it is a perfectly natural thing to do. Like all organisms on this planet (we don’t yet know whether alien life forms on other yet-to-be-discovered planets have alimentary canals that are in working order, but the search is on) human beings have to eat. What they eat has to be digested by billions of bacteria and the result extirpated through a hatch known by its Latin name, cloaca maxima. I fail to see the humour in that.

So, in all seriousness, the point I’m trying to make is that we in the Turd World can’t be squeamish when we are talking about bodily functions like Diaria (no, let me see if I can spell this right) Diarhia. Diorama. Die-Ria. Dire-hoohah. Do-re-mi-fa. Diarrhoea (got it!). We also try to camouflage the name of the place we pee and poo behind a veil of politeness, which is pointless. Let’s call a potty a potty, and let the chips fall where they may.

Which is why it is encouraging to receive photographs from various districts after they were declared open-defecation free to see that a whole industry of pay-to-go latrines have now come up across Nepal: This could spawn a whole menu of options for customers using bathrooms so that they can be charged for the intensity or duration of the dump. For example, lodges in Thamel or along trekking trails which make most of their income from restaurants can now also turn toilets into a major revenue source. Here is a suggested price list: 

  • Mugling Belly With Full Bonnet Wash: Rs 20

  • Mugling Belly With Dry Cleaning Only: Rs 15

  • Extra-long Mugling Belly: Rs 10

  • Non-lethal Hardware: Rs 6

  • Short-term Deposit: Rs 5

  • Long, But Fruitless, Squat: Rs 1 (Extra charge for reading material.)

  • 10-Megaton Thermonuclear Explosion With Fallout: Rs 50 (+ 13% VAT)