The Visitor’s Optimism

Sameer arrived in Bengaluru with a backpack, good walking shoes and an itinerary formatted so neatly that his friend Aditi initially admired it before reading the locations.

“Breakfast in Indiranagar,” he said. “Then shopping around Commercial Street. Lunch in Whitefield. Evening in JP Nagar.”

Aditi looked at the page again.

“Which week are you here until?”

“Sunday.”

“This Sunday?”

He laughed, assuming she was preparing a local joke. She was, but she was also preparing a practical intervention.

Sameer had built the plan using photographs, recommendations from friends and the reassuring appearance of places belonging to one city. He had allowed generous time for food. Travel existed as small connecting arrows between activities, which was an excellent way to make it look obedient.

Aditi opened a map and asked him to consider the actual journeys, available transport options and the possibility of doing fewer things without treating the visit as a failed mission. He listened politely, then pointed out that they were starting early.

She accepted the breakfast proposal and suggested they reassess after eating. This was both kind and strategically sound. A person holding hot coffee was generally more receptive than a person defending a spreadsheet.

They chose a practical travel arrangement, reached breakfast and enjoyed it properly. Sameer took a photograph of the food, then began calculating when they should leave for the next item. Aditi asked whether he had tasted the chutney he had spent several minutes photographing.

He put down the phone.

The chutney was excellent. For a moment, the itinerary stopped being the most interesting thing on the table.

After breakfast, they reviewed the rest of the day. Sameer had friends in different areas, several shops he wanted to see, and one lunch recommendation he had saved so long that abandoning it felt like betraying a version of himself.

Aditi suggested calling the friends and finding workable meeting plans rather than trying to collect every location as proof of enthusiasm. One friend could meet the following morning. Another was happy to join them nearer their existing route. The lunch recommendation could remain saved without becoming a compulsory appointment.

Sameer looked relieved and faintly disappointed, the normal expression of a person discovering that a plan can improve by losing pieces.

They travelled patiently, used proper pickup and drop-off points, and left the drivers free to follow the road rather than translating the itinerary into pressure. When a stretch was slow, they sent honest updates. Nobody described another person’s lane as a personal obstacle to lunch.

At lunch, Sameer opened his itinerary and moved three appointments into a folder called Optional. Aditi suggested renaming it Humanly Possible. He kept both versions, because even a defeated planner enjoyed a backup. The waiter asked whether they wanted another portion. Sameer checked the time, caught himself, and asked the table instead. Everybody said yes. It was the first unanimous decision his holiday had produced, and it required no map at all.

By afternoon, Sameer had visited fewer places than planned but had actually spoken to people, eaten comfortably and noticed the city beyond the windows between destinations.

He admitted that his original connecting arrows might have been optimistic.

“Very confident arrows,” Aditi said.

They sat at a café and rewrote the remaining plans into something they both wanted to experience. The new version contained empty space. Sameer found this unsettling until he realised the empty space was where pleasant unexpected things could happen.

That evening, he sent his family photographs from the day. His sister asked whether he had completed the itinerary.

“Improved it,” he replied.

Aditi looked over his shoulder and nodded.

The next morning, he offered to plan their first outing. She asked what he had in mind.

“Breakfast,” he said.

“And after?”

“We will discuss it after tasting the chutney.”

Read when you’re a passenger or safely off the road. Never while driving.