Like sex, hygiene is something that people don’t talk about
often enough. Everybody has their own personal definition of hygiene. Maybe we
don’t need to talk about everything, you say. But when you share a bathroom,
you do, I say.
We have our personal definitions of hygiene that we
strangely believe everyone is aware of, and shares with us. We silently but
irrevocably judge people based on how they leave the toilet, the sink, the
floor, the taps, the drain. It is a testament to their character, their
parents, their community and/or religion, the place they come from.
Notions of invisible ‘purity’ which form the basis of
Hinduism and Sikhism may be hard to believe since they are, ultimately, abstract
concepts upon which some people are alienated, murdered, sexually violated,
exploited by other people in positions of power. But it’s interesting to note
that while something might be visibly unclean to me, it might not be to someone
else.
I live in a 2BHK flat with four other women. One of my
friends in the other bedroom constantly complained how her roommate, K left the
drain clogged with her hair every morning. To me, this is unforgivably
inconsiderate.
After three days, I jumped in the middle of what was,
technically, their dispute, because each bedroom has its own bathroom. I
confronted her as soon as she came out of her bath. I spoke to her unkindly,
asking her what she thought of herself to leave the bathroom in such a terrible
condition for her roommate. I said a lot more, too, assuming that she was doing
this out of laziness or disgust. (Eww, who picks up hair from a drain?)
She was stunned. She simply assumed that the cleaning staff
was doing the needful. I sharply corrected her, no, it’s your roommate who’s
cleaning up after you.
That night, I happened to eat alone in the mess; my
roommates had finished before me and had gone upstairs. I realised that my
friend had never mentioned having spoken to K about her discomfort. She, as I,
had simply assumed that K was at fault because she didn’t share this common
code of hygiene with the rest of us. Neither of us had stopped to think that we
had never verbalised this code to anyone.
I hadn’t pulled up K for leaving the bathroom dirty. I had
attacked her for not reading our minds.
Why can we not talk to each other about hygiene? Just because
four women happen to follow a particular aspect of this all-important code
doesn’t mean it becomes obvious. The bathroom is one of the most crucial spaces
in a house—unlike the kitchen, it’s a space that everyone uses frequently. It’s
a private space that we are forced to share. We confront our uglinesses, we let
go (forgive the terrible pun), we strip ourselves bare in that room. It is
impossible that each of us does this identically. Even when I was living alone,
it was the bathroom that made me feel most vulnerable when a guest happened to
use it.
I think it’s time my roommates and I overcame our shame and disgust
and spoke to each other frankly about hygiene. In matters of dirtiness, the
bathroom is no match for the mind.
