Potato Chips

(A piece of almost-fiction I wrote sometime back)

I sat in the auto staring straight ahead… Trying not to concentrate on the racket made by the loose screw that attached the useless meter to the rod. It was so damn irritating. Why didn’t the autowallah fix it? Was he so used to it by now that he couldn’t hear it any more?

My stomach grumbled. I was hungry. (When am I not?!) And I didn’t even have a strip of gum to chew. At the next signal, I asked him to stop and bought myself 2 packets of potato chips. I opened one packet immediately and began to gorge…

The chips were crisp and yummy. The way potato chips always are. I sighed as I let my fingers mechanically stuff the chips into my hungry mouth.

I looked up to see the auto driver staring at me in the mirror. I looked away. Hmph. So what if I was hogging all by myself. Surely he didn’t expect me to offer him some, did he? Besides I was starving. The least he could do was not stare at me like that!

I turned my attention back to my packet of chips. It was a real wonder. I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t like potato chips. Those thin, crispy and tasty wafers have enough and more charm for everybody. Unless of course, they are dieters.

I, for one, despise and pity dieters. People who deny their body’s natural craving in order to bring their weight under their control. So what if you’re fat? Just live your life to the fullest, and eat all you want, instead of putting yourself through all sort of tortures thought of by depraved sadistic minds. Just for an emancipated ‘figure’ and a well-below-average body mass index.

I have a friend, the first time she sees a person, she notices their weight and size. This stems from an inferiority complex that makes her feel that she is, to put it mildly, fat. Which she is not, if I may add. And yet, the only interesting thing about anyone, when she first sees or meets them is whether they are fat or not.

Coming back to potato chips, the salty taste is damn addictive. Talking of taste, Lays is the best. Especially the orange “Hot & Sweet – Caribbean Style” I loooove it! But normal, regular, salty, potato chips are so unbeatably the best.

As I was munching the last few chips of the packet, I thought I saw a familiar face advancing towards the auto. Asking the auto to stop for a moment, I stepped out and stood where my friend wouldn’t miss me.

“Oshu??? Is that you???” Wow! She had changed, I thought as I hugged her and mused about her fashionable three-fourths and red spaghetti strap. She was the last person I expected to see here, and that too in such chic attire! Especially because she had been one who sat demurely in one corner of the class in her proper salwar and dupatta and the only animated movement she made was to frown crossly at me when I breezed in with my regular jeans and t-shirt. The last time I saw her was in school. And boy! Had she changed since those shy quiet days!

After the short chat, and exchange of phone numbers, I got back into the auto, glaring at the grumpy sour faced auto driver.

“Ippo ponga. Time ayiduchu” I told him curtly when he hesitated to start the auto. As I waved to Oshu, I vowed to call her tonight itself and talk to her. It had been a really long time.

It took a moment for me to register that something was wrong. Where was the second packet of chips? Oh! I frowned at the auto driver. Did that greedy fellow eat it up? I didn’t ask him. What would be the point? He would just deny it, anyway.

When the auto finally reached home, I took out my purse, as I pondered over whether to broach the subject one last time. I decided against it. The guy looked nasty and I didn’t want to make a scene. Yet, I felt a pang, as I handed over the forty rupees. I was about to turn and leave. “Madam!” he handed me the packet that had been behind the seat all the while, with a twinkle in his smile.