I've travelled to many countries on my own and always managed to figure my way around. The 'developed' world, especially, is designed to minimise human dependence on humans. Maps, labels, signs: all help a newcomer navigate the system with relative smoothness. Germany, the native place of efficiency, was where I least expected to feel confused as I tried to get a train from Frankfurt to Weimar. Abandoning my independence, yaniki, machismo, I finally asked two young men near the ticket machine if it was the right one. They confirmed and then, to my surprise, began helping me buy the right ticket, which I was dismayed to discover, required two changes. "Don't worry. We are taking the same train till the first change, so we'll get you on."

On the train, they immediately cracked open some beer and toasted each other. I learned they were cousins, and from Nepal, which gave their neighbourly behaviour to me a double meaning. S, the younger one had just flown in from Nepal. "I came to receive him," said N, the older one. I smiled at the word 'receive', so desi. "Coming from another city just to receive him?" I asked. "Oh, it's absolutely necessary to come and meet someone when they've returned from home, you know?" I nodded, but thought how it's something we today consider inefficient, belonging to an older, sentimental era, but also one in which travel was an infrequent, more momentous occurrence. My father always met me at the airport, especially when I returned from abroad, but since his passing, it's a rarity. Indeed not necessary, but it does make you feel cared for.