Out on a Limb

I’ve been travelling the past couple of weeks, which has meant a fair amount of time spent in airplanes. Being a sucker for a cute ad, I’ve been flying Indigo. Which is probably why on my flat back to Mumbai, the air hostess smiled at me with all the warmth of a stuffed animal and said, “Ma’am, you’ve been selected as our privileged corporate flyer. Would you like a complimentary snack and drink?”

It’s the first time I’ve been considered corporate anything and hey, why say no to complimentary anything? So I opted for a can of “potato sticks” and some orange juice, to balance out the yin of the potato chips with the yang of orange juice. This is how I discovered the wonder that is Indigo. They’ve managed to make potatoes inedible. The potato — a humble tuber that has saved many a childhood around the world just by getting boiled or mashed, sustained the Irish people and won against chocolate (when you think ‘chip’, you think potato before chocolate. Admit it) — has been defeated by Indigo. Not only do the ‘sticks’ taste like nothing, there’s a poem on the can. If you can read that poem and eat a potato stick in peace, then the good news is that you’ll never be obese. The bad news is you may be a cannibal.

Stick man stick man

marching side by side

Stick man stick man

Got nowhere to hide

Eat his left arm

And the right one too

When he comes to his senses

He won’t know what to do

He’ll run and run

But there’s no place to flee

Gobble up his left leg

And lick your lips with glee.