Today marks the beginning of our grand 7-day, multi-city, pan-India wedding journey. Noida → Jaunpur (Flight) → Nagpur (Train for Wedding Week) → Noida (Flight Back).

A trip long enough to qualify as a US visa interview answer.

You’d think packing for a week-long family wedding is straightforward. It isn’t. It’s a spiritual test.

The weather app says 14°C in Noida. Google says Nagpur is 31°C. Holy land of Jaunpur is somewhere in between, confused like the rest of us.

So now the question is:

Do we pack sweaters, jackets, shawls, monkey caps, sunscreen, shorts, vests, or swimming trunks?

We have reached a point where we are packing woollen socks and sunglasses together like a fashion disaster waiting to happen.

Packing with a toddler is a sport.

We folded clothes and he unfolded them. We packed toys and he launched them across the room like IPL fielding practice. We zipped the bag and he climbed on top like Simba claiming Pride Rock.And then, in the middle of total chaos, the little hero coughed twice, looked at us dramatically, and passed out asleep diagonally across the bed like a retired Bollywood villain.

Instant panic.

“Should we pack more medicines?”

“Nebulizer?”

“Steam machine?”

“Thermometer?”

“Portable air purifier?”

“Nikaal deodorant wali battery wala oximeter?”

Suddenly the bag started looking less like luggage and more like a mini ICU trolley. Along with clothes and chargers, the real decisions now include: Cough syrup, Paracetamol, Nasal drops, Vicks, Portable air purifier (yes, we actually considered it) Cooking oil?? (Because someone said Nagpur oil tastes different and now nobody is emotionally stable.)

And of course… The poetic masterpiece that somehow belongs in every suitcase: “…ek aadhi padhi novel – ek ladki ka phone number – mere kaam ka ek paper…”

For context this is not an Ambani wedding. No drone shows, no international performers, no chartered jets. This is a Middle-Class EMI-Bharat wedding featuring:

– DJ Chotu & Team

– Plastic chairs with attitude

– Room-temperature soft drinks

– Cousins practicing dance steps in lobby mirrors

– A midnight committee meeting about budget

Emotion: High.

Money: Low.

Decibel level: Dangerous.

And Then… The Plot Twist

Just as I was writing this b blog,

the missus looks up and says:

“Why don’t we go to Kashi Vishwanath for darshan first?

We can join the crew later , Saanu has to return her hoodie anyway.”

A hoodie.

A whole travel plan being redrawn around a hoodie.

In that moment, I looked at:

My toddler, sleeping diagonally like a squashed octopus The bags that barely agreed to close The medicines scattered like war leftovers My already-thin emotional stability

And all I could picture was:

My parents waiting back at village house at noon, with lunch and expectations… and us arriving at 11:45 PM saying “hoodie return tha.” 😐

My heart sank. My soul left my body.

I saw my future: a courtroom-style family meeting with me as main accused.

Women, man. Blessing and cyclone in the same packaging.

Final Boarding Call

Toddler snoring.

Suitcase locked.

Medicines packed.

Air purifier still under debate.

Hoodie diplomacy in progress.

And with zero clarity and full faith, we begin:

THE GREAT BUDGET BARAAT EXPEDITION

✈️🚆🎺🍼💸

If we reach on time, I will write Part 2 from the wedding.

If not, I will write “How I Explained to My Parents Why We Arrived at Midnight.”

Later.