The Atlantic Ocean never seemed so deep, big, far and wide before. It was just a tiny ocean on my Atlas. But oceans separates countries and countries separates people. My daughter was about to cross the ocean and enter New York with her three bags full with as much India she could pack within them. She had got admission in the Columbia University for her masters program and as much as we were delighted with her achievement the thoughts of sending her to another country was mak8ng me restless by the days.

In the last few weeks before her departure, my time was consumed in packing and re- packing those three bags full. It all began with the purchase of suitcases. Much research was made, about durability and brand. There were suggestions from well meaning friends. My family likes considering many view points before making any major purchase. In this case suitcase was the major purchase. Our existing suitcases were heavy duty stuff meant to last a life time ,doing train journey but failing the ultimate test of air travel. The permissible luggage weight in domestic travel is a mere15 kilograms. Thus the travel people became wiser and flooded the market with slim trim multicolored beauties with sleek handles. The display almost looks like a beauty pageant where each suitcase is competing with the other in weight, height, and beauty category, My family too possesses a few of these delicate beauties which we use for our short travels. But situation in hand was different , we needed big ( size specifications very accurate), light weight, not very costly suitcases. After two three trips to the stores we finally came home with what seemed the perfect choice.

The next step was a much more uphill task. My darling baby opened the ‘ Alibaba ka khazana ‘, her wardrobe.! I sat in a room filled with soft , colorful, dainty looking silks , cottons, Khadi all around me. All of this were her clothes! When did we buy all this I wondered. Mother and daughter sat down sorting out the pile. There were sarees to be packed for those festive days, lehenga for Diwali, Churidars and Patiyala salwars, kurtis for class, tops, shirts, dresses, jeans, shorts, sweaters, jackets, scarfs , shoes, socks, the list went on and on and we kept getting tangled amidst all this fabric and nic knack . After days of struggle I triumphantly announced mission accomplished. Father of the daughter joined the ladies with a weighing scale in hand. Quintessential army man ( hubby dear) would not allow us to weigh the suitcases . After all it’s a mans privilege to carry the burden !

Lo behold, the drama unfolds, the suitcases are overweight. Never mind the overweight father and mother, but the suitcases need to be exact 23 kilograms each. The fauji father takes charge, unpacks both the suitcases, (my two days hard work ) and empties the contents on the floor. Daughter dear had smuggled in diaries, letters, cards, books, all favorite memorabilia , without which she refuses to depart. Don’t go, stay back, I almost blurt out these foolish sentiments. But I have to make things lighter now, in every way I can. No space for sentimental baggage.

A visiting family friend stated that their son had gone abroad carrying three jeans, six shirts, one foot ball boot and a deflated football ! I looked at my daughter wistfully. Alas, daughters are our Princesses, they need their pumpkin carriage, they need their ball gown, they need their glass shoes too ! Search for the lightest baggage started all over again.

Finally, the perfect suitcase, the perfect weight combination had been achieved. Wearing the tri color ribbon ( saffron , white and green ) the suitcases were ready. The day and hour of departure came way too soon. The lost, unrest feeling within me would know no rest. Did I pack everything ? Was I forgetting anything ? Will she need anything more ? The questions haunted me long after she had walked inside the glass door of the international airport. The glass wall separated us for a while and then the vast Atlantic Ocean separated us !

How could I pack my first sensation of motherhood, those little fingers entwined with mine, the gentle smile, the naughty smile, the foolish smile . How could I pack our hours of fights, arguments, sulking . How could I pack our short walks, long talks. How could I pack our lazy Sundays, late night dances, our reading each other’s unspoken thoughts ! I could not pack all this and much more. So I sitting on my side of Atlantic with all my excess baggage of emotions very neatly, carefully, lovingly packed within and hidden ! Waiting to open them together before the pages turn yellow .