From Costco to Chaos: The Hilarious Saga of Traveling to India
For Indians living in the United States, visiting India isn’t just a trip. Oh no, it’s an epic saga—a mix of logistical gymnastics, emotional rollercoaster, and physical endurance. If Odysseus had to deal with Costco shopping, overstuffed luggage, and a 34-hour flight, The Odyssey would have been a lot more relatable.
The whole process of traveling to India is an art form I’ve tried to perfect over the years, yet somehow, every trip feels like my first. Here’s a blow-by-blow account of my experience—a chaotic, hilarious, and sometimes sentimental journey that many Indians might find relatable, or maybe not. After all, no two trips (or families) are ever quite the same!
Phase 1: The Costco Chronicles
It all starts innocently enough. Family WhatsApp groups, usually quiet except for the occasional good morning meme, suddenly spring to life. "Can you bring that moisturizer I saw on Amazon? Oh, and the jumbo bag of Hershey’s Kisses?" And just like that, you’ve signed up for what can only be described as Santa Claus’ dry run.
Costco, the holy grail of bulk buying, becomes your battlefield. You trudge through the aisles like a seasoned warrior, armed with a cart the size of a small boat and a mental list longer than the Mahabharata. The sound of clinking chocolate boxes echoes as you toss in a variety of sweets—enough to open a candy store. Somewhere in the cart, there’s a giant bottle of multivitamins that could sustain a small village and three tubs of moisturizer because apparently, dry skin is the bane of Indian relatives.
But it doesn’t end there. There are the "optional" items you throw in for good measure—protein bars, organic almond butter (because American things taste better, no?), and maybe some gadgets. By the time you’re done, the checkout bill looks less like a shopping trip and more like a down payment on a Tesla.
Phase 2: Packing, a.k.a. The Circus Act
If shopping is a challenge, packing is the Hunger Games. It begins with enthusiasm: neatly folding clothes, carefully wrapping fragile items, and measuring suitcase weights with a precision NASA would envy. Fast forward to two hours later, and you’re sitting on a suitcase, trying to zip it shut while pretending physics doesn’t exist.
There’s also the great debate of "What do I wear for the flight?" It’s a science, really. You need something comfortable enough for a 30-hour ordeal but respectable enough for the aunties at the Indian airport who will judge you on sight. The solution? Layering. It lets you look like a human at the airport and doubles as insulation against the airline AC that could freeze a polar bear.
The pièce de résistance of the packing phase is, of course, the carry-on bag. It holds the real treasures: snacks, travel-size toiletries, and your trusty headphones. You also throw in a backup outfit because Murphy’s Law dictates that your checked luggage will always take the scenic route.
Phase 3: The Emotional Prep (a.k.a. Why Did I Book This Flight?)
The night before the flight, reality sets in. You’re not just going to India; you’re embarking on a marathon with no finish line in sight. Your friends, in their infinite wisdom, say things like, "Oh, but it’s so worth it once you’re there!" Easy for them to say—they’re not about to spend 30+ hours confined to a glorified tin can hurtling through the sky.
The airport itself is an experience. TSA agents scrutinize you like you’re smuggling mangoes (which, to be fair, you probably are—on the return trip). Once through security, the first leg of the journey usually takes you to a major airline hub—your halfway point to the motherland. It's on the second leg, the flight to an Indian city, where the real fun begins. This is where you meet your fellow Indians, all journeying to reunite with their families, and the chaos characteristic of Indian families officially kicks off. The buzz of animated conversations fills the air, toddlers test the patience of fellow travelers with their energetic antics, and the cabin hums with an unmistakable sense of community and anticipation. It’s a lively, uniquely Indian preview of the adventures ahead.
Phase 4: The Great Flight
Ah, the flight. Where do we begin? If you’re lucky enough to fly a decent airline, the journey is tolerable. The food is edible, the legroom isn’t a cruel joke, and the in-flight entertainment works. But if you’ve booked a cheaper option? Well, congratulations—you’ve just signed up for a masterclass in patience.
The announcements alone are a test of endurance: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a slight delay." Translation: You’ll be here for hours, so settle in and make friends with the nearest outlet.
Once on board, the real fun begins. You perform acrobatics to stow your carry-on in the overhead bin, only to find yourself squished between a snorer and someone who clearly doesn’t believe in personal space. The air smells of questionable hygiene, and the constant hum of the engines does nothing to drown out the wails of a baby who seems personally offended by the concept of air travel.
Phase 5: Touchdown Triumph
And then, after what feels like an eternity, the pilot announces, "We are beginning our descent into [insert Indian city here]." A collective cheer rises—it’s almost as if everyone on board survived a life-or-death experience. The moment you step out of the aircraft, the air is thick with humidity and the unmistakable scent of home: a mix of spices, diesel, and memories.
Your WhatsApp starts buzzing. "Are you here yet? Have you collected your bags? Did you remember the moisturizer?" You smile, even though you’re too jet-lagged to function.
The madness isn’t over. There are customs to navigate, family reunions to survive, and that first meal in India, which is always worth every exhausting second of the journey.
The Aftermath
For the next three to five weeks, you’ll be on a whirlwind tour of family visits, epic meals, and endless cups of chai. You’ll complain about the traffic, marvel at the food, and eventually start dreading the trip back. But that’s a story for another day.
For now, you’re home. And no matter how long the journey or how chaotic the process is, it always feels worth it. Until next time, when you repeat the cycle with the same mix of enthusiasm, exasperation, and Costco chocolate.
This would be a wonderful stand-up act, Harry!