Now they are high-flying professionals in multinationals and so on. One is even a music director. Back in the sixties when they were boisterous little nephews and nieces in a joint family. Nikhil, Tushar, Brinda and Shyamal were kids. They were often given a Sunday treat.

It would be a swim at the club’s pool. And then the climax — going ting-a-ling with a brass bell, to call the club waiter and order the samosas and chips that were to be partaken of at the poolside. Each child was entitled to one samosa whereas the finger chips would come in a heaping large ceramic bowl to be passed around.

The chips would adorn the middle of the poolside table and their little arms could reach there to pick up a piece at a time. First dipped in tomato ketchup, they would then be devoured.

About the chips, Nikhil, the eldest, evolved a strategy. Since one samosa each was allotted per child, he was sure of his quota whenever he chose to have it. But the heap of finger chips was communal property, to be drawn upon bit by bit, by all four. Given this, while the other three would attack their samosa as soon as the waiter brought in the food, Nikhil would put his samosa aside and have a go at the chips. By the time the other three little mouths finished chomping up their samosas, Nikhil would have a big tuck-in at the chips.

Nikhil would finally pick up his samosa that was safely waiting for him and, even while taking bites of it, he would still pick up one or two chips. With this ploy, he usually ended up getting double the amount of chips than the others. No child was the wiser. The ruse was working. That was when Nikhil was tempted to gloat. With a self-satisfied smirk, he explained his clever trick to an elder at home. While he was telling this, his rivals of the poolside overheard him.

... contd.