The Baggage Handler Part 1

Some brand new. Some worn and old. Some with ‘fragile’ tags stuck on them. Some a myriad of vivid colors. And some with funny stickers from different countries.

- Swathi Parasuraman

People traveling from one place to another by air, packing their prized possessions in bags and carting these bags around with them. What secrets could they be holding? What trials could they be facing? What joys and sadness could they be experiencing in their lives?

For Roy, every piece of luggage had a different story to tell.

For the last two decades of his life, he had been working as an airport baggage handler in Hyderabad. His days consisted of loading and unloading cargo. Sometimes on the tarmac, where baggage would be loaded on or off the aircraft ramp, sometimes in the bag room where checked luggage would be sorted, and sometimes just in front of the luggage pick-up belt, separated from the restless waiting passengers by a flapping rubber curtain.

Roy was a stoic worker, known to be quiet and dreamy. He was 50, unmarried, and living on his own in a rented one-bedroom apartment. Due to his benign personality and tolerant nature, his colleagues often pushed him to trade shifts, something he would do without complaint. It was not that he loved his job, it’s just that he didn’t have anything else to do.