I am taking a train across India.
I am a traveling by myself.
I meet a girl I know slightly.
Turns out we are getting off at the same stop.
We arrive in the middle of the night.
There is a crowd to meet us.
It is some sort of campus.
I see the girl bantering with a tall Indian guy with curly hair.
She smiles slyly and makes a comment about moving in.
He looks startled.
She clarifies that I will be staying with him.
I tease him.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to live with her until you marry her.”
He gives me a haunted look.
I realize I was busy running errands before I got on the train, so I forgot my suitcase.
The girl did too, and is making arrangements to have hers shipped over.
She tells me not to worry about it.
I head to a room where my mother is waiting.
Very old-fashioned.
There’s some sort of odd pushbutton on a ledge in the middle of the room.
I realize it is for my uncle Jaya, who is deaf.
I am a little disorientated because he died over twenty years ago.
Apparently this is his room.
He is staying here with a servant/companion who takes care of him.
I tell my mom about the lost luggage.
She grows concerned.
This is India.
People are not as trustworthy.
They may not send the luggage.
It may get stolen en route.
She asks me if I really need the suitcase.
I realize I still have my backpack.
Does it have my toiletries?
The suitcase is mostly clothes.
Clothes are cheap to buy in India.
Perhaps even cheaper than shipping my baggage over.
Radically Happy 
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