Nature calls

I have a friend who found himself rudely called to duty while hiking up a holy mountain.

This site displayed many Buddha statues etched into various caves pocketing the mountain faces. Hanging bats were chirping and an irrational fear of contracting rabies floated through his mind. A sweet Canadian mom and her two daughters he had met at the foot of the mountain eagerly advised him to explore the caves thoroughly and crawl through various passageways. “There’s more to it than it seems!” they chimed.

As my friend scrambled up some easy boulders, convinced of the veracity of the family’s claims, he felt a sudden intestinal pang.

It’s coming, and it can’t wait.

Topping out between fallen trees and stones, he discovered the roof was a bed of leaves. Without further ado, he carefully but hurriedly deposited his payload into a small hole, covered it with shrubs, and used some half dead leaves to clean his backside (his mental calculus at the time reasoned dead leaves were too brittle for the task, and live ones could carry microbes, so he took the middle road). He scanned the surroundings and was assured that he was alone. The deed was done. What was done could not be undone.

Feeling lighter, he down climbed and cheerfully started a conversation with an Aussie pair, who remarked that this site must have been at least a thousand years old. They handed him their DSLRs and smartphones to snap a few photos amidst the pokerfaced Buddhas. Sure thing.

If I were in his place, I really don’t know if I could have done it. What audacity!