This is not a story of me travelling with a backpack. This is a story of a backpack travelling the world, with me.
My uncle gave me a dark blue JanSport backpack when I was in the ninth grade. It had two large compartments in the back, no fancy laptop sleeve because that wasn’t a thing yet, one medium-sized front compartment with two pen pockets and one velcro eyeglass-case-shaped pouch, two smaller compartments in the front for an assortment of forgotten items, receipts, scraps of paper, earrings, coins, tampons, you name it. No side mesh areas for water bottles and no sturdy back support, just some light cushioning. All the compartments had two zippers each, except the two smallest ones. A great basic bag for daily functioning. It is now 2019, about 17 years after. I have used it almost every day since and I still use it today. Three zippers have been changed, the shoulder strap shows some fray, the back cushion is now odd lumps of sponge. It has been washed and cleaned often enough. In the last 15 years, the bag has carried notebooks, fat textbooks, to and from school and tuition classes, it has been stuffed with clothes and shoes and books, with binoculars and bird guides, with an extra jacket and snacks for cold morning treks, with thousands of liters of water through the years, with a heavy 15.6” laptop before, a lighter one now, with pens and pencils and a little blue book with tiny squares and scribbles, with jute wallets and a swiss army knife, phone chargers and lost hair-ties. In the last 17 years, the bag has hung on my shoulders like Betal to my Vikram, on short and long treks through easy and tough terrain, it has sat and lain on sand, mud, snow, grass, pebbles and stones by rivers, lakes and oceans, on tiled floors and carpeted floors, forest floors and grimy bar floors, on fossil-covered orange earth, cushions and sofas, bunk beds on buses, in overhead compartments on flights, beneath my head on top berths in cross-country trains, resting on my weary feet in dirty bus and train stations, strapped to bicycle carriers, piled into car trunks, hung from tree branches. This bag has been everywhere I have and seen the things my eyes couldn't. It has seen the madness of Madras, it has been my buffer for creepy men on the bus, it has filled my arms with squishy hugs. It has been to conferences and music festivals, badminton games and theater productions. It has seen Ladakh and Kanyakumari, Kachchh and Mizoram, and other places along the way. It has seen the bustle of Ho Chi Minh City and New York City. It has seen rainbows above the Niagara and the snow falling in Colorado. It has seen the sun rise in Angkor Wat and set in California. It has carried many times its weight, plus a sleeping mat tied to the top and hiking boots hanging off the bottom. It has shielded its contents from the rain with the average effectiveness of a condom. It has proven to me over and over that if you want, you can carry your entire life in a small simple backpack. Plus an extra set of clothes, because one must always carry an extra set of clothes. The bag sits and watches me as I type now, slouched with age and emptiness, shiny zippers against a faded blue. For the last four years, I have browsed the stores, real and virtual, for new backpacks, contemplating, searching, preparing, never buying. I wanted to write a tribute, an ode to this old friend and companion, but I’m afraid I may be writing an obituary. Do you have a lifeline that you travel with?
3 Comments
jayanthi
29/4/2019 10:25:14
what a beautiful tribute. it is still alive but so thats the best part, to travel some more and see more of the world like no other bag would.
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Ramesh
29/4/2019 10:40:38
Very well written, maybe the best I have read till now. Guess it is right time to start writing bestsellers.
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Nandhini Gopinath
29/4/2019 16:57:04
Hi Divya ( I don't think you will appreciate anyone calling you Divya Kutty ......but I'm tempted to! ). It was such a good read ! I would love to meet this companion some time but in the meantime, give it ( had to scroll back to confirm that it had not been genderised!) a squishy hug from me!
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