Funnycontrol | When mental health is out of budget for the Indian budget traveller

In India, the budget traveller is the one who is too cheap to pay for extra leg space or an aisle seat. He will happily squash himself in the middle, for Rs 250, and save with this middle-seat mentality. “Legs are disposable any way,” he convinces himself as one knee starts losing all sensation. The budget traveller will not mind a 24-hour Mumbai to Delhi flight with a layover in Pakistan if it saves him a few pennies. “I can even check out the Wagah border for free and take a selfie from the Pakistani side,” his budget mind tells him.

Hotel booking must be made months in advance to get the cheapest rate. It doesn’t matter if those dates are available in the middle of May in a timeshare in Goa that is far from the city and the beach and the wine shop and the casino and the nearest mental hospital. In order to maximise return on investment, the budget traveller will pack as much into his itinerary as he does into his luggage. So, you’ve barely recovered from snow mall in Dubai when you’re thrust straight into desert safari in the blazing summer heat of the Arabian peninsula. Your children learn to suitably starve themselves till the next buffet to avoid paying anything for le carte.

On the other hand, of course, you have the swish crowd of south Mumbai and south Delhi, whose idea of budget travel is taking the Eurail instead of owning it. Backpacking for the swish set is usually done with Hermès backpacks bought from the valleys of France or something more ridiculous. One man’s budget is another man’s humiliation. But Indians have a unique way of finding budgetary cuts in line with their socio-economic criteria and how much of their self-respect they can swallow. So, you will find them in 5-star hotels but also find bananas filched from the breakfast buffet dropping out of their gowns in the hotel lift.

The biggest problem with travelling on a budget comes when you’re travelling in a group, because the group’s budget becomes an average of the amount each person claims to be comfortable spending, and the amount each person is mentally debiting from the other person. “Why should we pay for non-veg? I don’t even drink!!” your husband shouts in your ear in a tone that suggests he regrets the decision to be a teetotaller.