Welcome to Sweden: From Survival Mode to Sada Chiriyan Da Chamba

I landed at Stockholm’s Arlanda Airport on September 1 by Qatar Airways. After the long journey, I was expecting the usual airport rush, confusion, queues, hurried faces and the general anxiety that accompanies international travel.

Instead, the first thing I noticed was the distance people were keeping in queues.

At least four feet between one person and the other.

Four feet!

There was no pushing, no impatient breathing down someone’s neck, no attempt to sneak ahead. There was simply an air of patience and trust.

For someone born in a developing country, this can actually be quite frustrating.

Being born in the third world keeps you in what I call “survival of the fittest mode.” You learn early that standing in a queue requires vigilance. You have to protect your position. You have to make sure nobody overtakes you. You have to stay alert.

So here I was, standing in a Swedish queue, surrounded by people maintaining what seemed to me an almost excessive distance.

The hushed tones made me wonder: Maybe I am in the wrong queue?

And the distance from the next person kept irritating me.

Why so far, bro/ sis?

Don’t you want to gossip a little to get rid of the travel anxiety?

But Sweden seemed to have its own rhythm.

Then came passport clearance and security.

The smooth way forward was comforting to the extent of being irritating. I was twitching all the time because, from where I come from, these processes do not always happen this smoothly. Somewhere in my subconscious, I was waiting for something to go wrong.

Then came the respectful interactions.

A lady managing the passport queue announced, “Are there any people with residence permits?”

The unsure me suddenly became even more unsure. I did not even know whether what I had was officially called a residence permit or something else. With shaky hands, I brought out the card given to me by the embassy.

She noticed it and respectfully asked me to step out of the middle of the queue.

I was taken to a separate counter, where a beautiful young lady with the most beautiful smile asked for my card, passport and ID.

I handed everything to her.

She took a minute to verify all the documents and then handed everything back.

“Welcome to Sweden.”

That was it.

No drama. No unnecessary questioning. No intimidating tone.

Just:

“Welcome to Sweden.”

Relieved, I walked out of the airport expecting perhaps the same smooth dealings forever.

Then came my first little Swedish problem.

As many people had suggested, I went to a nearby shop at the airport to buy a local SIM for telecommunications and internet usage. I did that, only to discover that, unfortunately, my cellphone did not support Lyca.

So there I was in a new country, no internet and a two-hour train journey ahead of me.

I decided to get out of the airport and figure it out.

There is a train terminal in the subway of Arlanda Airport. I patiently went to the person at the counter and asked him to make me understand the train route I had to take.

He looked at me and smiled.

“Dear lady, stop worrying. Internet will be available on the train and you can’t get lost. Relax.”

Well, those were magical words.

I relaxed.

The ticket to Eskilstuna cost around 370 SEK, and the ticket slip had all the possible information on it—the train number, arrival time and the time I would reach my destination. After discussing everything with the person in charge, I felt confident enough to head down to the platform.

I waited for my train while enjoying the coming and going of random trains and the different people getting on and off.

Then my train arrived.

On time.

I pushed my two heavy bags inside. The train had an empty space between the compartments, making boarding and getting off wonderfully smooth. I found a good corner and stood closer to the door, keeping both hands firmly on my bags.

There was nothing valuable in them except my hard earned degrees.

The train started moving.

The screen showed the list of stations along with their timings. When I saw “Eskilstuna in 2 hours,” my nerves finally calmed down.

I connected my internet with the train network and texted my sister, who was supposed to receive me at Eskilstuna train station.

She told me she was already there.

She could have waited at home, but instead she had reached the station two hours early and was waiting for me.

And suddenly, this was no longer just a train journey.

I was going to see my sister after twenty years.

Twenty years……

So many things had happened on both sides during those two decades. We had grown into different individuals, dealing with our relevant problems, carrying our own burden of life. There was so much in store to tell each other.

But I had already made a plan.

I was going to hug her and cry for at least twenty minutes in full Bollywood style.

And then, as if my own mind had decided to create the perfect soundtrack for the moment, “Sada Chiriyan Da Chamba” started playing in my head.

I could not control my tears.

I closed my eyes, leaned against the train door and decided to let it go with the eyes’ flow.

Then someone patted me on the shoulder.

It pulled me back to reality.

I opened my eyes.

A middle-aged lady was standing in front of me with a concerned look. She said something in Swedish, which, obviously, I did not understand.

I apologised and said, “I speak only English.”

She apologised and said, “No English.”

Then, through gestures, she made me understand that I needed to clear the way because I could fall outside if I slept while leaning against the door.

I understood and agreed.

Then she gestured toward my luggage and suggested that I leave it in one corner and find a comfortable seat.

I agreed.

I left the luggage and found a beautiful seat by the window.

And then Sweden unfolded before me.

The green pastures.

The mountains.

The rivers.

The cityscape.

Everything was exquisite, involving and passing by so quickly that I could barely absorb it all. At every station, there was an announcement. The train moved with a quiet precision that I was beginning to admire.

Ten minutes before my station, I stood up and returned to take hold of my bags near the exit door.

The time displayed on the screen was exactly the same as the time mentioned on my ticket.

That was quite surprising for me.

Then my station came.

I stepped out smoothly.

And the first thing I saw was my sister.

I left the bags where they were and ran towards her.

Twenty years disappeared in that moment.

There was no airport anxiety, no language barrier, no train schedule, no SIM-card problem, no survival mode.

Just two sisters meeting after twenty years.

And finally, I got the hug I had been planning all along.

My long-planned, full Bollywood-style hug.