This is the story of my journey that landed up in of the best toilets in India.
July 2018: Post my best friend’s wedding in Patna, I planned a trip to Nepal, my own personal honeymoon. My best friend’s brother helped me visit the city bus stand and book a ticket from Patna to Raxaul, a border town in Bihar, on an Air-Conditioned (AC) bus. He ensured me that I’d be able to get to Kathmandu easily from there. Note to self: Don’t trust any information that hasn’t been tested in the last 4-6 months. India changes in the blink of an eye.
I packed my travel bags the night after the wedding reception: some hiking attire, swimming suits, hats, and toiletries. I also had my work paraphernalia, including computer, phone, and chargers. Quite a lot, considering I was alone; but nevertheless, I wanted to be prepared. I was going into unexplored territory– travelling alone in a region I’d not been to before, where the language was bewildering.
I took an Uber to the bus stand, arriving 45 minutes before the departure time. The bus itself arrived 30 minutes after. Note to self: Don’t go on time to anything in Bihar.
After boarding around 8 am, I started feeling the heat of the Bihar summer sun. I tried to stay in the aisle, away from the window. Others were trying to do the same, if they were lucky enough to have an aisle seat.
Soon, a man in the next row started questioning the conductor, getting irritated and angry that he was not turning the AC on. “Arey, AC karaab hogayi” was the only response. The man decided to get off at the next stopping point, across Mahatma Gandhi Setu, and demanded a refund. He also incited others to do the same, including me.
We were standing on the roadside with our luggage: I had a large computer bag, a duffel bag, a backpack, and some smaller bags. My hiking shoes were dangling. I started to feel overwhelmed when another bus pulled up. It wasn’t AC, but everyone else got on it, so I did also. It only went upto Muzzafarpur. I had been there before, and knew it had a large bus stand, where I felt I could jump onto another bus.
In my late 30s, I didn’t think too much about this, and prepared myself mentally for the adventure.
At Muzaffarpur, I could only get a direct bus to Motihari. I figured I would be closer, and could get a taxi or some other service to the border. Upon deboarding at the “bus stop” at Motihari, without any charge in my phone, I realized I was in trouble. The busstop was a chai stand, which luckily also served my favorite Bihari drink, Sattu ka Sarbat (a summer time cooler made of sattu, water, onions, green chilis, coriander, and black salt). After filling up on a couple of large ones, I asked when the next bus would come that could drop me off at the border in Raxual.
With my broken Hindi, I managed to understand that there might not be a bus for hours; nor would I find a hotel in the desolate town. In fact, a temple or a priest’s house was also not plausible. In Tamil, this town would be described as “oru ee-kaka kooda illai“– a place where you can’t even see a fly or a crow. Literally, nothing except my sattu stand on the side of the road. (Looking back, perhaps this was one of the better stands I’ve seen in Bihar. Clean, neat, hygienic.)
I started to get scared. I was in dire need of a bathroom. So I asked, and the stand owner said, “There’s a bathroom behind the dhaba.” I went in search of the toilet, not expecting much.
To my surprise, I found a very clean, tidy, hygienic hole in the ground– an Indian style toilet, plush with a very nice smell. Perhaps they had used scented incense or washed the toilet with some scented cleaner. I don’t know. All I know is that I remember thinking, “if I can’t find any other place to stay, I can spend the night in here.”
It was a surprise to me that in the middle of nowhere, Bihar, I could relish my bathroom experience. I still compare every bathroom I use to that one at Motihari. To date, I’ve found very few others that can chalk up to this one.
Post Script: I did manage to get to Raxual, and then crossed the border on foot, where I had to search for a taxi to take me to Kathmandu through the forest– an 9 hour expedition that landed me in the hotel after midnight. But that’s a story for another day.
Post Script: At the time of this wild experience, I was still in my 30s, and willing to tough it out in the rough. Now, in my 40s, I’d rather have a calm, well-organized trip where everything is taken care of. I don’t have to stress about my