I'm looking for something specific, and I'm guessing I'll find it in a shop that sells plastic goods, like buckets and stools and pitchers. I peer into the shops I pass, smiling briefly at people who look concerned when they see me, as if they've never in their life seen something so odd. I know that this is just the famed Indian stare, though, so it doesn't bother me. Also, Indian women don't go out when they are pregnant, so I am rather strange.
I find a little shop and walk inside. It is dark and there are three people sitting in the midst of piles of the things I think will lead me to what I'm looking for. I don't think they'll know the word, so I try using gestures and other words.
"Do you have a small (I gesture the size with my hands) sort of toilet? For a baby?"
They shake their heads. "For a small child? To sit on? To use the bathroom?"
No they don't. They shake their heads again. I gesture again to show the size and shape of what I'm looking for. "For a child? A toilet?" Nope, they sure don't.
"Oh," I say, disappointed. "You don't have a potty."
The one young woman jumps up. "Potty? Yes, we have." And she proceeds to show me the perfect, small, simple potty that I've been hoping for.
You know, I find that sometimes it works better to just start with the word, rather than becoming some sort of crazed foreign pregnant mime. You know.