Living in the shadow of other people’s backpacks

By Dr. R. Balasubramaniam

I live among people who carry laptop bags and extend their personal space with confidence. The bag becomes a second spine and the person walks as if this new shape came with a licence. They turn and the bag turns after them, swinging like a thought that arrives late. When contact happens the owner keeps going. The bag has spoken and the world must listen.

This back extension shows up on footpaths, in shops and in places where lines form and dissolve without warning. I meet it when I step onto a bus. I step ahead and the bag steps back. I pause and the bag leans in. We perform a dance where only one partner knows the tune. The owner looks ahead with eyes fixed on a screen or a point in the future. The bag explores the present.

The bag holds a laptop, a charger and cables. It also holds a bottle, a book and a lunch box. It has mass and intention. It does not ask permission. When the owner turns to check a message, the bag sweeps an arc. It taps a shoulder, nudges a rib, brushes a face. The owner remains calm. The bag did not feel anything, so nothing happened.

I have learned that avoiding contact is an art and a science. It starts with reading shoulders. Shoulders tilt before the bag moves. Feet shift and the bag follows. I watch for elbows since elbows and bags share a friendship. I keep a distance that feels polite to the owner and safe to me. This distance changes when the bus brakes or when a train door opens and gravity joins the crowd.

Metro trains add speed to the lesson. Doors open and the bag leads the way. It enters first and claims space before the owner arrives. I stand aside and wait for the bag to finish its speech. Inside the carriage, the bag chooses a seat. It rests on the seat ahead or the seat beside as if it bought a ticket. A person with a cane stands nearby. The bag remains seated. The owner looks away. The bag enjoys the ride.

Air travel brings a new chapter. At the departure gate, passengers jostle for a seat as they await the start of the boarding process. Our bag owner decides that his bag needs an exclusive seat for itself. One needs to pick a fight to reclaim this seat for human occupation. Then there is the bus that takes you to the plane. It fills fast. People stand with arms raised and bags raised with them. The ceiling listens to a chorus of zips and sighs. I try to breathe. A bag presses into my back. Another meets my knee. The owner smiles at a joke on a phone. The bag listens to my thoughts unperturbed.

I carry a bag too. Mine holds things that follow me through a day. It has weight and it asks for loyalty from my spine. I accept the task and tell myself that wheels make noise and ask for roads that do not exist. I choose the bag and the bag chooses me. I try to keep it close. I keep it aware. When I turn, I turn with care. This feels like a small act with a wide effect.

The bag culture crosses age lines. Students carry bags filled with plans. Workers carry bags filled with proof. People who have seen a lot, carry bags filled with habits. The bag does not judge. It simply exists and extends. The owner learns to forget it. This forgetting becomes a skill. It allows speed. It allows focus. It also allows impact.

I have been struck by a bag while reaching for a handle. I have been boxed by a bag while stepping aside. I have been surprised by a bag while tying a shoe. Each time I consider a speech. Each time I choose silence. The bag has already moved on. The owner is gone. The moment remains with me and my ribs.

There is a quiet rule that space belongs to those who claim it. Bags claim space without words. They are polite thieves. They take a seat, a breath, a step. The owner benefits without noticing. The rest of us adapt. We learn angles and timing. We learn patience. We learn to read backs like weather.

One day I sit and place my bag at my feet. My back feels light. A person stands nearby. We exchange a look that says thanks without sound. The bus moves. The train arrives. The plane waits. The world continues. I carry what I need and leave room for what others need. The bag stays with me. It does not lead me or trouble others. Maybe this is the only baggage that I can be proud of.

[Dr. R. Balasubramaniam is the Founder of Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement (SVYM). ‘The Lighter Side’ is a series of satirical articles meant to bring a smile by highlighting the funny side of everyday life.]