Do you want to know the real reason why women always go to the toilets in pairs? Obviously and most immediately it is to talk about Men and what is Wrong (or Right) With Them, but there is a deeper more instinctive reason why we do so.We need someone to hold our handbag while we take a dump.

This is a genetic habit embedded in our makeup from the days when we lived in the jungles and wild animals abounded. The fear of being taken by a wild animal whilst shitting is an ancient fear in the heart of the human.

Asian toilets are spoken about with either horror or a laissez fareness that doesn’t help at all when you are first confronted with a squat.The health benefits of squatting are well documented, and most developing nations do not have the benefit of a sewer system so the use of toilet paper is actively discouraged.

Paper is the only thing Not Allowed down an Indian squat, everything else seems to be permitted, at least in public places.I have seen some interesting arrangements in bus stands all over India, but the most memorable was two bricks positioned on a square of concrete that was awash in human waste. There was no outlet for the waste, it just sat and seethed in the noonday sun, bubbling menacingly. I passed on that and spend ten more hours “holding on”.

For the solo female traveller without the benefit of a Toilet Companion, here are a few tips to help you through your first visit to a squat toilet. Practising the following moves at home before you depart will

• Amuse your friends endlessly


• Build strong sexy thighs


• Lubricate your joints for running after buses


• make you eligible to join the ranks of True Eco Travelers

Once you have the routine down, the practise doing a speeded up version and you are also ready for your first case of diarrhoea on the road, every traveller’s nightmare. Try to get it down to three seconds.

On entry you will see

It’s pretty self-explanatory.

You need to position yourself so that you have the tap on your left hand side.First check that the tap is working and that water is available.You might want to pour some water down to either clean the thing before you squat or to facilitate an easier evacuation of your own wastes down the hole or consider the reason for the stick which is usually standing near the back of the toilet. If you are wearing trousers with side pockets, empty your pockets. Keys, cell phones and credit cards still work after a dump in the toilet but you never feel the same about them afterwards.

If you are wearing a salwaar kameez then the event is going to require some Yogic Discipline. Lets assume you are carrying a small daypack that fits snugly around your shoulders. First, remove your pack and stuff in side your dupatta or scarf and anything else you are holding in your hands.If you cant keep the bag on your back, then hold it in your teeth or balance it on your head.

Bend down and roll the legs of your trousers up a little bit to guard against splash marks.With your left hand, hold your trousers around knee height. In one smooth movement you will

• Squat,


• Flip the back of your top up over your back with your right hand and AT THE SAME TIME


• Pull your pants down from the waist to the knees.What you want is every piece of fabric at least six inches away from the business end of this operation.Squat with your feet flat to the ground for extra balance, especially on trains. This helps to develop strong thigh muscles and means you wont inadvertently put your hand out to balance yourself and TOUCH something.

After you have done the business, hold the water container in your right hand and pour it down your Khyber Pass, using your left hand to dislodge any ‘cling ons’. Rinsing your hand as you do so.By this time the bus horn will be tooting like crazy, or the train will begin to shudder into a station or someone will burst in on you.Quickly reverse the previous undressing operation, leaving all extraneous material in your daypack, wash your hands thoroughly with the ubiquitous Lifebuoy Soap and run for the bus that is by now lurching away from you.

The next day I caught a local bus (we had been traveling by car until then) and got myself back in the Groove so to speak.
It was early morning and the bus heading for the six-hour journey to Ajmer was full. I move to make room for a woman who sits beside me and we smile at each other. As the day warms and the journey begins, we warm to each other and begin to talk. She tells me about her life and I am struck by her resemblance to my grand daughters other nanny who, like Madhu, is also a teacher. An hour and a half between women and all information about our lives and hopes and dreams are shared in rickety local bus rattling along the desert plains.
A thousand days of rough travel dissolves instantly with someone like Madhu who sweetens the morning air with her first shy hesitant hello.
We will never see each other again but I will think of her again and every time I do, there will be only good wishes for that woman. I think the same also will happen in reverse and this is the reason why I love solo travel.

After Madhu came these Gujurati women on their way to the Ajmer Dagarh. By this stage I am pretending not to know Hindi to save myself being questioned for the next four hours of the journey. They talk amongst themselves about me and I understand enough to know they are being lovely and generous and curious. I love the face of one of the women, it is so open and clear and her eyes are kind.

Eventually we begin to share smiles and food and a circular conversation of the type I was avoiding begins.
The people in the bus start wanting information about me my country and family, they shout the question to the person in front who then relays the question to me. In broken English and fractured Hindi, I manage to establish a few facts.

“O god, alright I promise!”
This is not enough. Now she tells me I may as well send something From Foreign for the baby in her daughter in laws womb in the same parcel.
Luckily my stop appears and I leap to freedom, the women wave to me from the bus and I stand by the roadside choking on dust and promises and pollution.
But if there is anyone out there who wants to send a sexy lacy red-ribboned size 36C bra to this woman in Gujurat, contact me for her address. Consider it as a random act of sisterhood.