My husband, a self-proclaimed 'seasoned traveller', preaches the joys of travelling light.
With just a small suitcase and a feather light handbag, he drifts in and out of airports, eyeing with complete superiority passengers with massive suitcases, huffing and puffing their way through endless queues.
Like most sensible people, we too plan our vacations well in advance. But, in spite of my best efforts in restricting our baggage to the bare minimum, we are unable to see eye to eye on this very vital aspect of travel. His blood pressure increases in direct proportion to the weight of the suitcase. "Do you want to waste my hard earned money on excess baggage?" he asks.
"Somebody would think I have four hands. Have you forgotten I have a weak back? Do you realise how much effort is required to lift heavy suitcases?" His ranting continues. In a voice strong enough to frighten the bravest of the brave, he thunders on, "I just can't take it anymore." That marks the end of our discussions.
But, unmindful of the repercussions, I soon began shopping fervently for our trip to Dubai to visit our daughter. As usual, my purchases were eyed suspiciously by him, making me squirm and feel like a traitor. Peeping inside each suitcase, he shouted, "I refuse to travel with such heavy baggage."
Intimidated by his outburst, I confided my plight to my friend. "Don't get cowed down," she advised, "men are impractical. Do you think my husband is any less? All the artefacts in my house are the result of battles bravely fought and won. Don't give up easily." The fact that I was not a solitary sufferer pepped up my confidence.
I planned my strategy for tackling this insurmountable problem. Later that
evening, he appeared mellowed down. This was the opportunity I was waiting for.
Avoiding his eyes, I pleaded with him in a condescending tone, "Be reasonable. Airlines often overlook a couple of kilos of excess weight." My arguments fell on deaf ears. I changed my strategy. Softening my voice, I rattled off in one breath, "You won't need to carry the bags.
There will be attendants at the airport to help. Besides, a massage will remove all your aches and pains. Even if we pay for excess baggage, it will be money well spent. Just imagine our grandchildren's joy on seeing their gifts." My tactics worked. He appeared touched by my deep concern.
But the worst was yet to come. On the day of our departure, he raised a tantrum on seeing 10 boxes of Mysore Pak. "For whom are you carrying these? Don't you know that our daughter is a fitness freak and shuns sweets?" he questioned.
I tried convincing him, "How can we possibly visit our daughter's home without sweets? In any case, these will not go waste, since you and their maid share something in common — a sweet tooth!" My final argument that our suitcases would be practically empty on our return journey ultimately clinched the deal.
All differences sorted out, we boarded the aircraft arm in arm, a picture of perfect bliss. In Dubai, my husband was totally relaxed at the prospect of a comfortable return journey without any excess baggage. But all good things ultimately come to an end.
A day before our departure, our granddaughter announced excitedly, "Nanu, have you seen the new suitcase which Nani bought today? It is filled with many new clothes, bags and shoes."
One look at my husband, and I fervently prayed that the earth would split open and swallow me up!
With just a small suitcase and a feather light handbag, he drifts in and out of airports, eyeing with complete superiority passengers with massive suitcases, huffing and puffing their way through endless queues.
Like most sensible people, we too plan our vacations well in advance. But, in spite of my best efforts in restricting our baggage to the bare minimum, we are unable to see eye to eye on this very vital aspect of travel. His blood pressure increases in direct proportion to the weight of the suitcase. "Do you want to waste my hard earned money on excess baggage?" he asks.
"Somebody would think I have four hands. Have you forgotten I have a weak back? Do you realise how much effort is required to lift heavy suitcases?" His ranting continues. In a voice strong enough to frighten the bravest of the brave, he thunders on, "I just can't take it anymore." That marks the end of our discussions.
But, unmindful of the repercussions, I soon began shopping fervently for our trip to Dubai to visit our daughter. As usual, my purchases were eyed suspiciously by him, making me squirm and feel like a traitor. Peeping inside each suitcase, he shouted, "I refuse to travel with such heavy baggage."
Intimidated by his outburst, I confided my plight to my friend. "Don't get cowed down," she advised, "men are impractical. Do you think my husband is any less? All the artefacts in my house are the result of battles bravely fought and won. Don't give up easily." The fact that I was not a solitary sufferer pepped up my confidence.
I planned my strategy for tackling this insurmountable problem. Later that
evening, he appeared mellowed down. This was the opportunity I was waiting for.
Avoiding his eyes, I pleaded with him in a condescending tone, "Be reasonable. Airlines often overlook a couple of kilos of excess weight." My arguments fell on deaf ears. I changed my strategy. Softening my voice, I rattled off in one breath, "You won't need to carry the bags.
There will be attendants at the airport to help. Besides, a massage will remove all your aches and pains. Even if we pay for excess baggage, it will be money well spent. Just imagine our grandchildren's joy on seeing their gifts." My tactics worked. He appeared touched by my deep concern.
But the worst was yet to come. On the day of our departure, he raised a tantrum on seeing 10 boxes of Mysore Pak. "For whom are you carrying these? Don't you know that our daughter is a fitness freak and shuns sweets?" he questioned.
I tried convincing him, "How can we possibly visit our daughter's home without sweets? In any case, these will not go waste, since you and their maid share something in common — a sweet tooth!" My final argument that our suitcases would be practically empty on our return journey ultimately clinched the deal.
All differences sorted out, we boarded the aircraft arm in arm, a picture of perfect bliss. In Dubai, my husband was totally relaxed at the prospect of a comfortable return journey without any excess baggage. But all good things ultimately come to an end.
A day before our departure, our granddaughter announced excitedly, "Nanu, have you seen the new suitcase which Nani bought today? It is filled with many new clothes, bags and shoes."
One look at my husband, and I fervently prayed that the earth would split open and swallow me up!