Today when I was at the washroom of the Esplanade in the afternoon, I had a thought strike me like most moments of epiphany strike you when you are in the washroom first thing in the morning. Only it was not in the morning for my case, and the epiphany was not any great idea for improving mankind as most such ideas would usually not stray away from. The event that triggered such a thought in me was indeed one strange act that made me think that way. What happened was while I was in the washroom minding my own business and taking my time at the urinal, I heard the flushing of the WC in the cubicle nearest the corner of the washroom. As I was the only other person there, I could hear the sounds of only my own splashing against the urinal and the flushing sound. This went on qutie a whlie, as I was under the effects of my now-customary cup of afternoon coffee to make me concentrate in my attempt to revise for the upcoming examinations. It made me go to the loo more often.
I could not help but notice then, throughout the duration of my unnaturally long peeing run, that the flushing of the WC never seemed to stop. There was intervals between the flushing of the and the replenishing of the water tank. The water replenishing went on for a couple of seconds, and the hand would work on the lever again, letting water down the commode. That worked out to a pretty rthmic symphony of running water peformed in E minor at the washroom of the Esplanade washroom. I thought that there was a malfunctioning switch at first, but upon peering towards the bottom of the cubicle, I saw a pari of shoes inside.That turned the aura of mystery by a full notch, and I was left puzzled and tried my best to make sense of it. Why would someone stand at a cubicle and just press the flush button so frequently without any specific purpose since one flush is all it takes to clear what’s inside the commode?
After watching the stationary pair of shoes and hearing the flushing sounds forat least six times while I was at the mirror sweeping at my fringe, I decided not to hang around to see the face of the person inside the cubicle in case it was something I did not want to see. I promptly made my way out just before the person left the cubicle. As curiosity would have it, I could not help but try to steal a glimpse of the person leaving the washroom as I was on the escalator back to where I was studying – in the library.. The pilar blocked my sight as I ascended the escalator, never seeing who the person is.
The idea that the someone inside was not mentally sound could not escape from my vivid imagination of sticking distorted features like a crooked nose and unfocused eyes to the unknown face. But it could well be someone who looks handsome and has very normal habits to the outside world. I feel that there are people among our midst who appear normal to everyone else, but inside a certain private sphere they would detract from the behavioor that the society views as normal, and are capable of really weird antics. What keeps us in our place and prevents us from letting loose and going out of control whlie we’re at work, in school, and pressing buttons fervently without consciousness of what’s right and wrong?
