I step down from the airline bus at the entrance of the arrival section of the airport. I immediately rush towards the conveyor belt where my luggage is supposed to come by. Within seconds the conveyor belt starts moving, bringing forth different luggage. Soon I relax noticing my bag smoothly coming towards me. I shall pick it up in the next few seconds, I wonder, and then I’ll hail a prepaid cab, reach home on time, have a warm shower, chill, have dinner, surf the internet, complete the book I started reading in the flight and probably sleep early! The mere glimpse of the bag has made me design a particular future for myself.
I also take pride noticing how few of my co-passengers are admiring my bag. Why wouldn’t they? It’s a brand new bag and the design too is quite unique. I remember the storekeeper told me it’s a limited edition too. In less than few seconds the people around will also know whom it belongs to.
As my bag takes a turn and comes further close to me, I’m just waiting to put my hands on it. It belongs to me and it forever shall. The next moment I see a hand, out of nowhere, pick the bag up. I’m too shocked to say a word. By the time I get my voice back and shout out the person seems to have disappeared. I scamper towards his direction but I haven’t seen his face. I ask someone if he has seen the person. He nods no. Damn! I would now have to complain and probably wait for hours for the airline people to respond to it. I will have to verbally fight, be irritated in the process and still there's no guarantee I'll get my bag back or not. All in all the well-thought-of relaxed evening is non-existent now. Moreover there are some valuable things in the bag. How will I be able to live without them? They meant so much to me. I slowly sit down on a nearby chair; feeling defeated.
Minutes pass by.
“Is this your bag sir? No one else claimed it.” An airline staff says holding a replica of my bag. I take the bag from him and try to unlock it in order to confirm. I am able to unlock its number-lock. I smile holding my bag tight. Its silly how I emotionally accepted something which only seemed mine but it wasn’t. How conveniently I created my own emotional truth and wove an eluding futuristic world for myself which when I didn’t get disappointed me to the hilt. But the simple thing was it wasn’t meant for me. It wasn’t mine! I only thought it was.
Some things only look like they belong to us. And we immediately convince ourselves they are meant for us as well. That difference costs us a lot of things.
The ‘I’ in the story is Anyone.
The Conveyor Belt is Life.
The First Bag is ‘the one you are sure is yours’.
The Second Bag is ‘the one meant for you’.
Special Appearance: The Person who takes the first bag is ‘Destiny’.