India is not for beginners they say. It's probably because it's in our DNA to be over-prepared when it comes to public spaces. We carry water bottles, tiffins, raincoats and even tanning scarves with us. Most men wear a gamcha for its multipurpose quality. Indians are also infamous for over-packing. All because we can't trust anything. 'Kya pata zaroorat pad jaye' (What if we need it later?’) is our motto when we step out.
Peace doesn't come easily to us Indians. Which is funny, because we literally invented meditation. Our scriptures are global bestsellers on calmness, and yet here we are, permanently anxious about things that don't even need anxiety. It's like our national character: stressed and chilled at the same time.
This paradox plays out everywhere, but nowhere is it more visible than in our relationship with travel and public spaces.
Take a simple airport journey for instance. We will arrive at the airport 4 hours earlier, because a cow might block the highway, a sudden rally might break out, or Google Maps could be lying. Once there, we proudly pull out our digital boarding pass and also a printed copy. Because God forbid the phone battery dies for 0.2 seconds. Then we'll confirm our gate number, then reconfirm it on every screen, then ask a random airport staff member because apparently the airline is conspiring to trick only us.
And this is just the beginning. Boarding gates are the real battlefields. The staff announces zones and seat numbers, but we rush anyway, as if the plane is going to take off like a bus and leave us stranded. Why are you hurrying? The plane won't fly until everyone is inside. If you can arrive 4 hours earlier, surely you can wait for a bit more. Why does waiting for your turn feel so difficult?
Just chill Ramesh! Suresh won't be able to take your seat by placing a handkerchief on it.
Oh wait, they don't say that in the flight confirmation messages. My bad. If someone from the airline industry is reading this, can you please help us in getting this message through?
The chaos only intensifies once we're airborne. Don't get me started on the scene that unfolds when the flight lands. The moment the plane touches down, the cabin becomes a fish market. I get what our teachers meant when they saw us creating ruckus in the class and called it a fish market. Everyone's phones light up like Diwali, and suddenly, all those urgent calls can't wait another five minutes. It's like a collective digital fart we were all holding in.
And what is up with standing in the aisle of the plane? Even when the flight lands, before the doors open, half the plane is already standing in the aisle with bags, waiting. For what? Another of those Government's freebies? Or does the airline distribute Somras to all those who stand there for no reason at all? Please tell me!
And once the door does open, what difference does it make? The luggage is going to take its sweet time to arrive anyway. There are only a few things that compare to the joy of waiting at the conveyor belt, shaking our legs, pacing, convinced our luggage decided to go to Dubai while we're in Delhi. All that rushing, only to stand still again. Sabun thoda slow hai kya?
This same energy extends beyond airports. It's not just air travel—look at the metro or trains. The yellow line on the platform is just a pretty design; nobody actually respects it. Queues are more like a group suggestion. Everyone pushes in at once, so nobody gets in smoothly. Congratulations, in trying to save five seconds, we've delayed the whole train. Genius.
Our impatience has evolved with technology too. And the new obsession? Delivery apps. The app promises 10 minutes delivery, but if it takes 11, we lose our minds. We'll call the delivery guy more times than we ever called our ex after a breakup. Poor guy is stuck in traffic while you're pacing in the kitchen, pan already on the stove, because 10 minutes back you went oops! Totally forgot the one thing you needed to make Poha. Poha itself! But sure make life difficult for the delivery guy and deduct stars in their feedback.
Now that air and railways have been discussed, let's digress towards roads—where the chaos truly reaches its peak. We'll cut across four lanes on the right at the last second to take a left turn. We could've stayed in the same lane and avoided being the one who started the traffic jam. We'll honk at red lights like the signal is just shy and needs encouragement. We'll race like crazy only to stand at the same jam with everyone else. Bravo. Saved zero minutes, gained extra blood pressure.
Mind = Blown.
We are constantly racing ahead only to get stuck waiting. Constantly planning, constantly panicking. Always in a rush, always late. And maybe that's our biggest paradox—we invented meditation but can't sit still for two minutes.
But perhaps there's a deeper reason for all this rushing. Do you also text your family members every 20 minutes asking ‘kahan pohonche?’ (Where are you now?) when they're traveling? In our collective memory, journeys are uncertain things. Trains get delayed, flights get cancelled, or worse, they crash down, roads flood unexpectedly. That constant checking in is our way of imposing some semblance of control over the uncontrollable.
Think about it—our parents stood in ration lines, our grandparents experienced partition, our great-grandparents lived through famines. Scarcity anxiety is literally in our DNA. When we rush for that metro seat or hover anxiously at airport gates, we're responding to generational trauma saying, 'there might not be enough left for you if you don't rush.' Obviously, this isn't an excuse for a lack of civic sense, where we break queues, but it explains something like stampedes.
At the end of the day, our rushing culture is just another facet of the beautiful, chaotic mess that is being an Indian. We're a nation of people who pack train food for fully-catered journeys, who print boarding passes we'll never need, who create elaborate backup plans for scenarios that will never occur. And you know what? There's something beautiful about that. India is not for beginners, right? We're always preparing. We're doing our best to navigate a world that has taught us that being ready means being safe.
So tell me, are we actually in a hurry, or do we just enjoy the drama of hurrying?
After all, better to rush and be early than to chill and miss the last piece of gulab jamun at Guddu ki shaadi, no?
P.S. Names used in the article above are only suggestive.
P.P.S. Please for the love of Gulab Jamuns, stop standing in the aisle the moment the plane lands. What is this behavior Pooja?
This post has been written in collaboration with and this is the second time I’ve collaborated with her. We either vibe really well or don’t have many writer friends. Working with her feels effortless, almost like chatting with an old friend who just happens to live miles away. Its seamless like Karthik Calling Karthik but one Karthik is Zoya. Get it? She is awesome, writes really well and appreciated my jokes (that’s most important). If you haven’t explored her essays yet, you’re missing out. They’re full of sense, sass, and wit. Just like her. Happy reading!
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Forgot to mention the huge tiffin boxes filled with samosas and achar which opens the moment the train leaves the station🤭🤭…. And the garma garam masala teas in flasks…whooo!
What a anxiety read it was my brain was already rushing to reach till the end to know what's next while taking pause in the details I felt my brain nerves on an emergency pace .This read was an evidence that Anxiety truly truly inherent to us :)
Again, Kya likha haiiii 🫡 ✨