EDR

India’s Mother Ganga, the great river that is the sub-continent’s lifeline, is considered to be holy by the Indians. Even the annual monsoon rains are heralded by the locals with joy, as it replenishes the country’s water supply, and cools the temperature after the dry, hot summers. Water is also prominent in almost every religion in India, with ritualistic bathing , washing of feet, and drinking of holy water being a central feature of many religious ceremonies.

Given the reverence shown to Paani (Hindi for "water"), it may be surprising to the foreigner who visits India how different the attitude is towards tap water. The locals talk about it like it is arsenic, with a variety of illnesses (everything from Jaundice to Impotence!) being attributed to even the sweet, clear nectar flowing from my kitchen tap. I was never one to believe in the hype so I decided to test it for myself. I mean… it looks so clean!

(Editors note: Do not attempt any thing you see in this blog entry. Failing to adhere to this warning may result in rectal tearing, jaundice, death, or even worse…impotence.)

To begin my experiment, I decided to have a single glass of water:


Bringer of Disease, Death, and Impotence!


Bottoms up!

I sat around for an hour or so, before I felt a familiar rumbling in my belly. I found release in a pleasant and nondescript fart. If you are disgusted by that, please do not be. It smelt as my flatulence has always smelt: like daisies on a spring morning, Not like the putrid, rotting dog corpse stench that you release from your rectal cavity, you filthy, hypocritical assholes.

This bored me. I found myself angry at how all these locals were trying to fool me into being afraid of India. I would not fear the pure, fresh water of my motherland! To prove to myself and to the World that their words were nothing but lies, I filled a large 2 litre bottle with water from the kitchen tap, and guzzled it down over the course of 15 minutes.


I will not fear the holy water of India!

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, and I went to bed with nothing but the occasional pee-break to distract me from my usual routine. My last thought before falling asleep was: What a load of crock. I’m feeling perfectly fine.

I was wrong

In the middle of night, I awoke with a sharp stabbing pain in my belly that forced me to leap out of bed and make a mad dash for the toilet. I barely was able to rest my cheeks upon the inviting mouth of the Porcelein God when the warhead detonated. This was no ordinary case of The Runs my friends… this was Explosive Dire Rear. It felt like the great hand of Toto had shoved me up from my throne and into the air. Half an hour later, I crawled out of the toilet, weak and dehydrated, into my bed where I spent the remainder of the weekend.

Be warned fellow travelers! It is true what they say, India’s water is death in a glass.

Thank God my package still works.