Hiren Deliwala
By Hiren Deliwala
I’ll start with an honest confession: even though I’ve read all the advice about “don’t compare yourself with others,” I still do it. I get influenced. I feel jealous. I feel like I’m behind. And nowhere is that feeling stronger than in travel.
Travel brings a special kind of FOMO. Maybe it’s because it’s so visible. People post photos or talk about islands, mountains, European streets, exotic resorts, and fancy dinners with perfect lighting. And suddenly, even if we were happy five minutes ago, we start feeling like we’re missing out on some alternate life that everyone else is living.
Sometimes it’s not even the destination. It’s the way people describe it.
An acquaintance once casually told me, “Those lay-flat seats are perfect for this kind of travel.” We get it. You traveled first class. And listen, I have nothing against first class. Good for you. Seriously. But did you really have to say it that way?
That one sentence can do more emotional damage than an entire Instagram post. Because now it’s not just about where they went. It’s about how comfortably they went. The subtle brag disguised as a helpful tip. And suddenly, without warning, the comparison starts.
Among the Indian diaspora, travel is almost a default conversation topic. It starts very casually: “So where have you been lately?” or “Where are you going next?” And I want to have a good answer. Something impressive. Something exotic. But when we say we went to India, it doesn’t feel like it counts in the same way. Not because India isn’t amazing — it is. But for many of us, an India trip doesn’t mean exploring India. It means going back home. Staying put in our hometown, hanging out with parents, visiting relatives, eating home food. And even if we want to travel within India, there’s guilt attached. It feels like we are stealing time from family. So, we stay. And later, when we hear friends talk about Europe, Iceland, or Bali, we start questioning ourselves. Did I waste my vacations? Should I have seen more?
That is the real trick of travel FOMO. It is not about seeing the world. It is about having the right answer when someone asks where you have been.
Travel FOMO isn’t only about destinations. It’s also about who we travel with. When someone tells me they traveled as a group, I instantly imagine them laughing, playing games, eating together, and just chilling. I don’t picture the coordination headaches, the disagreements, the compromises, or the constant “where should we eat?” debate. That’s how FOMO works. It edits out the messy parts.
Over time, I’ve realized something important: some of the most meaningful trips don’t look exciting on paper. In the last few years, my wife and I started traveling separately to India. She stays with her family, and I stay with mine. It’s not glamorous. It’s not “content.” Nobody is clapping for this trip. But it has been deeply meaningful.
It’s mostly just being with our parents. Talking. Taking them to places they want to visit. Sitting at home, doing nothing productive, just being present. Eating the dishes my mom makes when I come home. Nothing fancy. Not exotic. But real.
Another trip that stays with me was when all three of us brothers traveled to India to celebrate our parents’ 50th anniversary. For a few days, it felt like childhood again, just the five of us. We remembered school days, struggles, love, and all the old hassles — no AC, no hot water, not the best neighborhood, debts, sacrifices, and then the success that followed.
We also laughed about stupid childhood memories. The Diwali rocket that flew over our heads. The time Dad got upset at a schoolteacher and made it a full drama. The neighbor who did something ridiculous and had the whole street talking. The dog bite that we treated like the end of the world.
Then we threw a grand party for our parents. The kind where they got to dress up, get congratulated, feel celebrated. Watching them enjoy it was something else. It reminded me how easily we forget what our parents accomplished, how quietly they sacrificed to raise us. That celebration wasn’t just a party. It was our way of saying: we see you.
We can still plan better trips. We can still travel more. But the goal was never to impress anyone at dinner. It was to come back feeling like something happened that was worth remembering. And some of those memories, it turns out, were made in a small house in India with no AC, a dog that bit someone, and parents who deserved a party a long time ago.
Hiren Deliwala is a Charlotte-based overthinker, closet philosopher, and avid board gamer. He writes about everyday life, Indian upbringing, and finding humor in the chaos. When not philosophizing over chai, he’s usually losing arguments to his wife and, shockingly, learning from them. Contact: hcdeliwala@gmail.com
