While the rest of the world gets the travel bug, we Indians get the travel lug. Firstly, we don’t just travel, we take our entire world with us. We don’t understand why there is a limit on baggage, because we have so much of our own and some of our parents and then, some of our neighbours’ too. No, not just the numerous suitcases that we carry around. We also carry quite a bit of emotional drama for our travels. And which travel is complete without some tasty gossip?
We don’t just lug around drama queens, we lug along duct tape, delicately bound around our over-blown bags, stuffed to the brim with what-have-you or what-have-you-not. All because, how do you know that we will not need some drawstring (better understood as nada) for our chudidhars or more importantly as a clothes line? And plus my beta can never eat all this hotel-shotel food, so I know mothers who carry small packets of dal and rice. Yes. You “ You are one of those mothers, ain’t you?
We lug along hard-boiled eggs (and since this is a family-friendly piece, I should refrain from the after-effects of that), hard-boiled candies (which are rationed out miserly at the start of the journey and hence, become a hot-sticky mess by the end) and hard-boiled egos (which explode when you take a bit more of my arm-rest than is permitted by the Universal Guide of Arm-Resting).
We lug along stories and tales, told and re-told with garnish and relish. And when we re-tell said stories, we need space to flay our arms around to create drama; we need to speak lout and out to generate enough pathos; and most importantly we need an audience, especially those who wish not to be disturbed by our stories.
So, when we travel, we don’t just travel, we lug our co-passengers with us, we expand our families for the day or two that the poor blessed souls are stuck with us. We especially love, love, love to peek into their cell-phones and see their conversations. Hell, I have even corrected the grammar once, because aren’t we family, now? Shall I get you a bride, perhaps? I know a particularly cheeky young girl who is as bad in grammar as you and will make a suitable pair. Yes, we Indians are the most helping sorts when we travel.
We stuff our mouth with khakras , paranthas, chapatti rolls, profanities and prayers. Yes, yes, sometimes in that very same order. And catastrophe is when we suddenly decide to open our stuffed bags to hunt for a napkin (which ideally should have been packed conveniently). Along with the happily tossed aside banyans and ganjis, we freely abuse our co-packers for not properly packing. And after finally finding the much coveted napkin, we realise, much to our chagrin that the contents have grown exponentially and will not fit into the same bag again. Some more swearing, telling of tales and some more lugging, till the contents are re-packed.
We lug along distant memories, worries, hopes and wishes. We discuss the dreams that we have for our children, the dreams that we have lugged along all our lives. We don’t travel light, we stuff. Our bags are full of old newspapers just in case we need some to wrap Payal chappals or soiled clothes. We lug along detergent soap which get impossibly soggy, we lug along Vicks, Crocin, Eldopar, Avomine. And in addition, we lug along onions, lemons, ginger.
And that which we don’t lug along, we throw along the roadside - plastic bottles (which once carried soft drinks) now used for drinking water, used tissue papers, unwanted food stuff, broken cutlery, fragile egos, hurt sentiments. Till we start to plan for a trip again, when the lugging begins. We don’t just travel. We lug and then we throw.
Sonia Kuncalienker is an avid writer on matters that have no importance to anyone in the universe
