In quest of a toilet in Kathmandu (1 /65,000)

Amid Kathmandu Valley’s vibrant chaos, my family’s pursuit of a simple amenity— a restroom—turned a routine drive into a 20-kilometer retreat to our own home. The ordeal unfolded as my younger son's need arose abruptly near Lalitpur, with no public facilities in sight. Our planned day was forfeited for lack of a better option, and though some might scoff at our reluctance to improvise beside a bush or wall—a jest I even posed to lighten the moment—our decision was firm.

Growing up, societal norms branded the roadside relief as almost a rite of passage for men, a mark of rugged independence that I, admittedly, never embraced. In the Tarai region, this practice persists more openly, blending into local customs where women shield their identities with cloth during such moments.

This issue transcends mere inconvenience; it reflects deeper civic neglect. Even in upscale supermarkets like BlueBird and Bhatbhateni, brimming with customers, restroom facilities are notably absent or inaccessible, reserved for staff behind closed doors. The implications are vast, not only for customer comfort but for business as well—potential sales lost to physiological needs.

This scarcity extends beyond supermarkets to retail stores, petrol stations, and even clinics, where a discreetly placed and tightly locked "No Entry without permission" sign guards the lone restroom in a popular bookshop. The situation is dire even in healthcare settings, where I once had to take my son home to collect a urine sample for a test because the available facilities were unusable.

The absence of adequate public restrooms also tarnishes the reputations of our public offices and even international gateways like Tribhuvan International Airport, which falls embarrassingly short of global standards. Sacred sites are not spared; at Pashupatinath and Boudhanath temples, devotees are left with the Bagmati River as a makeshift solution.

So, what are one's options when nature calls in the heart of Kathmandu? You could endure discomfort, assert a misplaced bravado by the roadside, or retreat home—a choice that, while safe, speaks volumes of our public sanitation crisis.

This is not merely about convenience; it's a fundamental issue of urban planning and civil dignity. My proposal to an entrepreneurial friend recently was this: why not explore the viability of pay toilets across the city? Not only would it address a critical need, but it could also offer employment and turn a profit. Ensuring accessible, clean toilets in every establishment should not be optional but a mandatory civic duty.

As we debate policies and pride ourselves on cultural advancements, we must ask: What worth do our discussions hold if we neglect such basic human needs? A society that overlooks the essentials of its citizens' dignity can hardly profess to be truly developed.