I am not mechanical-minded. The maximum I can tackle is the mixer going off while overloaded. With all others, I am clueless. Technologies have advanced and this has brought in complicated gadgets, why even taps, latches and switches. They make you mad and feel inadequate all the time, especially if you are on foreign soil.
I admire the innovative spirit but it can be very testing at times. You go on looking at the taps in the restroom: do you turn it right or left? Or, simply pull it up? You think it’s the hand shower; water pours on you from the head shower—and vice versa. Same goes true for the species in kitchens. You can turn it here, there and everywhere and sometimes pull it out as a hose too! If everything else fails, place your hand beneath the tap. Water pours.
Latches, especially in the restrooms, are another big headache. Again, they come in different shapes and designs. I have this phobia of getting locked in and hence before using it, do a trial run of the latches. I remember landing very early in the morning in the Milan airport. I was the lone occupant of the restroom, got myself locked in but didn’t know how to open it. Half-blind without my glasses and the other half blind due to dim lighting, I spent nearly twenty minutes inside, contemplating methods to escape and getting frantic minute by minute. God is the sole saviour at such times. I had to break 11 coconuts at the Pazhavangadi Ganapathy Temple after I came back.
I dread the kind of knobs and faucets they use in the bathrooms. Knobs are tricky, especially those fancy types. They come with clicks, without clicks, some are automatic, some are to be turned to the left for opening and to the right for closing and some, vice versa; some are to be pressed in and pulled out.
Handheld bidet sprayers, commonly used in Indian toilets, are usually very simple to operate and have valves to close or control the water flow. But those who want to complicate their lives further go in for those with button-type devices. One up and one down—press hard the latter for water and the former, still harder, to close. At the end of it, it’s like you had a wrestling match out there.
Amid the chaos produced by taps, latches and knobs, I stand dazed in this country of Columbus, clutching at my sanity. I am the bewildered Duryodhana, caught unawares in the Palace of Illusions. The only thing missing is Draupathy’s derisive laughter; but then I supply it myself.
Dr Lalitha Ramakrishnan
Email: maashu1@gmail.com