A Complicated Relationship with the Suitcase

As far back as I can remember, I have always been in a very complicated relationship with my suitcase. When I was in school, I craved for the opportunity to pack my bags and travel to the unknown. However, other than visiting my grandmother, there were not many places where I went during those early years of my life. Then I prepared for competitive entrance examinations for admission to B.Tech colleges. I must admit that although I wanted to join the best college to pursue my graduation degree, I had become extremely comfortable in the loving and caring atmosphere of my home. The freedom to enjoy my life the way I want, the carefree attitude towards the basic requirements of the life, and the warm embrace of my loved ones became the deciding factor behind each desire of mine. However, the destiny had other plans for me, and I had to pack my bags to go miles away from my home for my higher studies. Going away from my home, my family, and my city was one of the toughest decisions of my life, which was made easier by my dad’s gift of a cell phone. This may come as a surprise, but this was my first cell phone. It was nothing fancy, and I remember its color, design, and the fact that it was a “Nokia” phone; however, I don’t remember its model. Little did I know that this was one of the many phones that my dad gifted me over the years, and I can’t wait to return the favor — not that I think of his gifts as a favor. Anyways, I remember praying that something would happen, and I would not have to leave my home. But, that prayer, thankfully, was not answered.

I loved this little necessity of travel,suitcase, during holidays because, at that time, I was stuffing it up to visit my family. I never left any opportunity to go home, and I am glad that I did not. Once, I was all packed to go back to college to attend a campus placement opportunity but was begging to God that I would not have to go. This time, to my surprise, my prayer was heard and answered. God exhibited his well-known sense of humor when I fainted in the railway station. I was laughing and talking until the arrival of my train. The moment I heard its whistle, I fainted. Some may call it a coincidence, I call it the blessing of my God. The best part of this miracle was that the placement drive for which I was returning to college in the first place was canceled. I still thank God for this outstanding display of affection. I was diagnosed with spondylitis, which was funny because I have not heard anybody fainting due to this disease (well, what do I know!). I have been having back pain problem since then, but this post is not about that. It is about the suitcase and my relationship with it. This bittersweet relationship inclined towards a more bitter side of it when I had to go farther away from my home because I got a job in an MNC. During my school and college days, I could not wait to get a job and stand on my own feet; however, after joining the corporate world, I realized that I was happier during my student life. Asking for leaves to go home and meet my family became a terrifying task. The place where people keep a score of your leaves to throw it on your face the next time you beg for leaves is not exactly a pleasing and welcoming chore. Nevertheless, the heart wants what it wants, and I wanted my family more than anything else. So, I stole a few moments of happiness by overcoming my irrational fear of asking and/or informing the management about my planned leaves. Fortunately, God exhibited his act of kindness, and I was transferred to a city that was closer to home. I have been living here ever since. Once again, I started loving my suitcase, but all good things come to an end.

This time, when I packed my bags, it was for a more permanent reason: I was getting married. Once I became fond of my husband, I thought that now life is more stable, and if I’ll have to pack my suitcase, it would not feel sad because I’ll be traveling with at least one person who I care about. Well, I fell flat on my face again. Once again, a suitcase was packed — yes, one suitcase, and it was not mine. I hated that stupid suitcase, and I refused to let my husband pack his things in my suitcase. “If he wants to go on his silly office assignment without me, then he can’t take any essence of me with himself,” I thought to myself. Not one of my best moments, I know! Well, his activity of packing the bags became frequent, and after sulking for about a year, I gave up and let him pack his belongings in my suitcase if his bag couldn’t accommodate his apparels, shoes, and whatever. I still hated his pack and go activity, but I stopped crying about it. Instead, I started throwing sarcastic comments about his official visits at every chance I got — I still do.

For a change, things took a lovely turn, and we planned a trip to Bali. This time, we packed two bags (yay!). Needless to say, I adored my suitcase at that time. Before I forget, Bali is a paradise, and I suggest everyone to breathe a little air of this heaven; it’s really divine. Soon, we planned another trip, and I thought I wouldn’t hate the suitcase again. But, once again, there is a twist in my life. It is a probable plan, but this time, I might be the one leaving on an official assignment leaving my husband behind. It would be nerve wrecking, and I am not sure how I feel about it. I have learned many years ago not to turn down any opportunity that God blesses me with; that is the reason why I don’t ask for anything, and why I don’t turn down almost any opportunity irrespective of my own reluctance. This time, turning down the pack and go task is very tempting, though. Everything happens for a reason; I just hope this reason would be worth the hours of tear shedding that is sure to follow once everything finalizes.

P.S. This post is in response to the daily post prompt: Suitcase

Image Credit: http://fscomps.fotosearch.com/compc/ILW/ILW005/rodria0169s.jpg

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