My First Solo Trip
Was to Tie a Rakhi

Every Year Before This One, Someone Came With Me

Every Rakhi until I turned twelve, my father took the bus with me to my sister's college town, sat through the whole three hours, and took the same bus back the next evening. That year I asked to go alone. She was the one who'd be waiting at the other end anyway — I didn't see why he needed to come too.

He Said Yes Faster Than I Expected, Which Somehow Made Me More Nervous

I thought he'd argue. He didn't. He just said okay, wrote my sister's number on a chit even though I had it saved, and told me to keep my phone charged. I spent the whole night before more nervous than excited, going over the route in my head like it was an exam.

The Bus Was Late, and I Didn't Know What to Do With That

We left forty minutes behind schedule, and I sat there doing the math on how worried my parents would be if my sister called them before I'd even arrived. I didn't want to be the reason anyone panicked on my very first trip alone. I also didn't want to call and sound like I needed rescuing over a delay that wasn't my fault.

Nobody Had to Panic, Because Nobody Had to Guess

I found out later that my mother had just watched my bus's progress the whole way on the family circle, saw it was simply running late and not stuck or turned back, and didn't worry the way she might have with no way to know. My sister knew to leave for the stand a little later than planned, no phone call needed from either of us.

I Tied the Rakhi Feeling Like I'd Actually Done Something

When I finally got there and tied the thread, it felt different from every year before — not because the rakhi itself was different, but because I'd made the trip on my own and everyone had trusted me enough to let me. Nobody made a big deal of it out loud. But I noticed nobody came to fetch me at the stand either. I'd earned that much, and it felt like the actual present that year, more than anything my sister put on my wrist.

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