Indians are going places. The problem with this is that it means that Indians are going places. And as someone who travels often, I’ve noticed that we’re not very good goers. Watching an Indian travel is like watching Ashish Nehra bowl; you can’t help but feel like you’re watching an art being practised at its lowest, least inspired form. This passage marks the first time in seven years that the words “Ashish Nehra” and “form” have been used in the same paragraph.

Travel is the Indian person’s Waterloo. Travel brings out the worst in us. It also brings out every suitcase we, and everyone we know, own. The only difference between an Indian luggage trolley and a truck carrying food on the highway, is that the truck probably has less food in it. And also the guy with the trolley gets drunk only after he begins his journey. If, as an Indian traveller, you have not made the girl behind the check-in counter cry at the sight of your luggage, you’re doing it wrong. My favourite part is the Indian traveller’s indignation at being told they aren’t allowed that much luggage on. “What?! How can you say that?! What do you mean I can’t check my sofa in?”