Toilet humour

Neither Oxford nor Merriam-Webster has an entry for 'toilet humour', which probably means it is a phrase that cannot be defined definitively. Me, I've always believed the phrase refers to off-colour jokes, especially when they invoke body parts and bodily functions. Today, I am revisiting the phrase because everyone reviewing "Piku" uses this phrase to refer to the film.

I stick to my belief that the phrase refers to off-colour jokes of a special type. I stick to my stand that "Piku" is not about, for, of, toilet humour; it's just about normal conversation in a normal Bengali household. And in this post, I reproduce snippets of my own life. All characters, situations, and dialogues in this post are real, have taken place in real life, refer to real people; all characters in these snippets are Bengali.

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Situation 1
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It's December, it's school vacations, and we're going to picnic at Khushroo Bagh *. Daddy has borrowed the neighbour's Lambretta to ferry us there and back. I am all ready and eager, the spark plug of the Lambretta has been cleaned and sandpapered, neighbour grampa and neighbour aunty are helping me pick rather oldish roses that I'll hold to the wind while sitting on the scooter, and everything is ready but .... what are we waiting for? Why, my kid brother. He's not, ah, done his morning job, you see (In hindsight, I think he was all too excited about the outing, that's all. He was a little boy way back then.) The following conversation occurs:

Neighbour grandpa: Since how long has he been trying?
Father: Oh, half an hour, one hour, I don't know. At this rate, we'll never go today.
Me: [heart sinks. I consider throwing away the roses, and picking fresh ones fit for a vase.]
Neighbour grandpa: Do one thing. Carry a mud cup.
Father: Eh? Where will I get a mud cup?
Neighbour grandpa: [insert name of another neighbour] will have them. Their son was married last fortnight, no? Lots of leftover mud cups and leaf plates.
Father: Okay, so what will I do with a mud cup. [name of my mom] has already packed our lunch and plates and all.
Neighbour grandpa: No, no, for the boy, you see, for the boy. Carry that mud cup ad whenever he gets the pressure, hold it close...

In the event, the mud cup wasn't needed after all because at that very moment, mom and brother emerged from the house.

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Situation 2
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It's probably December again. We're off to a picnic again (trust Bengalis to picnic on a daily basis), this time with the extended family. A tonga has been hired, has picked us up, and has now reached father's cousin's home from where the rest of the entourage will be picked up. I get down from the tonga to open the gate; neighbour uncle peeps over the hedge.

Neighbour uncle: I know, I know, you all are going to Kakraha Ghaat ** for picnic. I only accompanied [name of father's cousin] to the vegetable market today to buy the lunch stuff. What first class brinjals we got, you'll see! Nice place to cook up a meal for a picnic, this Kakraha Ghaat.

Meanwhile, a stove, a bottle of kerosene, veggies, and miscellaneous other objects have been stowed at the bottom of the tonga, the extended family has climbed up, I am sitting on my favourite second cousin's lap, the tongawalla has put his foot in the notch before leaping up to his seat when:

Father's cousin's wife, my Elder Aunty: Yo! Wait, wait. Has anyone remembered to take carbo veg or no?
My second cousin: No, Ma. Neighbour uncle had borrowed the last bit before he went with father to the vegetable market today morning.
Another neighbour who, by that time, had come by ambling: Wait, wait. I'll get you some <name of ayurvedic medicine>. And for more urgent needs, Kakraaha Ghaat is by the river anyway.

We take the medicine bottle and trot off.

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Situation 3
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While on carbo veg, the extended family has travelled to Agra for a wedding. We've reached there almost at dinner time, and the harried host is overseeing the unloading of our luggage from the taxi that has ferried us from Tundla to Agra when he suddenly turns back and yells at my grampa:

Yo, Father (my grampa is his father-in-law). Have you brought your carbo veg or have you forgotten like you did during [insert name of a cousin]'s wedding? Tell me now only, or morning morning the shops will not be open and you won't get it then, and don't turn the whole house on its head then like you did that time.

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Situation 4
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While on my grandfather, it's summer vacation and I must've eaten my mom's head enough coz she's packed me off to her parents' place (same city but their house had a garden). I've been out in the garden, pottering around with a pair of shears, trying to give a horse "shape" to a mehndi hedge and failing miserably (no, no one scolds you at your grandparents' place). So, I sauntered in and grandpa is having the following conversation with my Uncle No. 2:

Grandpa: Just two spoons since morning, you know. And stomach is still a bit heavy, you know.

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Situation 5
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Talking about heavy stomachs, I'm all grown up and big now, holding a proper job in a proper government office with almirahs and files and tables that have three-three phone and tables that have none. A colleague from Mysore is on an "official visit" and is eating my head, kind of.

Colleague: Bangalore is a nice place, you know. Not like our Mysore colony. You can have beer to your heart's content and no snoopy people to gossip.
Me: mmm. hmmm
Colleague: Where are the good pubs here? Can you take me there after office?
Me (sees where this is going and is not interested because...just.not.interested): I don't drink.
Colleague: Oh, you should. Beer is just so nice. Next day morning, everything is so smooth that everything is finished in no time.
Me: You have constipation?
Colleague: Yes, kind of. Actually, everyone in our family has it. You know, that time when we went to Puri...

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Situation 6
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Back to childhood, back to school, and....I went to school by rickshaw and the rickshaw man picked up a few more children from the neighbourhood. There was this extremely pretty girl who lived two streets away; she and her neighbour's kid were my rickshaw-mates. The time they were picked up was also the time her father was setting off for his morning round of the vegetable market and greeting sundry neighbours on the way. Typical hail-fellow-well-met greeting of his would be like:

Hey brother! How's life? How many times since morning?
[some reply]
Good, good! And, what's cooking for breakfast?

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* Khushroo Bagh is the place where Jehangir's son lies buried.
** Kakraha Ghaat is a little-used burning ghat (the city prefers the other two ghats because they are on the Ganga. Kakraha Ghaat is on the Yamuna, so a lesser choice). We didn't picnic at that exact spot but a little distance away, at the Karelabagh Pumping Station, which had fine grounds way back then.