All my life, I thought air was free. Well, until I bought a packet of chips.

It all started on a hot Sunday afternoon in Bangalore. I was strolling down the busy streets, soaking in the aroma of street food mingling with the city's ever-present scent of petrol and sweat. My friend, Satish, had suggested we grab a snack before heading to his place to watch a movie. "Chalo, let's get some chips!" he said, eyes gleaming with excitement.

We walked up to the corner shop where the shopkeeper, Mr. Anil, sat with a perpetually suspicious look on his face. "Oru chips packet thaa," I said confidently, slapping a crisp 20-rupee note on the counter. Mr. Anil handed me the packet, and I could already feel my mouth watering.

As we left the shop, Satish and I eagerly ripped open the bag. But to our dismay, it felt lighter than my expectations. I peered inside, squinting, hoping to find a treasure trove of crispy goodness. Instead, I was greeted with a sight that made my heart sink: a few lonely chips huddled together at the bottom of the packet, surrounded by an expanse of empty space.

"What is this daa?" Satish exclaimed, his voice filled with betrayal. "Did they forget to put the chips in the chips packet?"

I shook the bag, hoping more chips would magically appear, but all I got was a gust of air. That's when it hit me - all my life, I had believed air was free. But here I was, standing on a crowded Marathalli (Bangalore) street, having just paid for a bag filled mostly with air.

Satish , ever the philosopher, patted my shoulder. "Arre, Vinu, this is a life lesson. You pay for packaging, marketing, and a promise. The chips are just a bonus!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "So, you're telling me I just paid twenty rupees for a packet of disappointment and a life lesson?"

Satish nodded sagely. "Exactly, my friend. Exactly."

As we munched on the few chips that were there, we decided to make the best of the situation. We started blowing up the empty packet and using it as a makeshift balloon, much to the amusement of passersby. A group of kids even joined in, and soon enough, we had an impromptu game of chip packet volleyball going on.

That day, I learned that sometimes, life gives you empty chip packets. But it's up to you to turn that empty packet into a source of fun and laughter. And maybe, just maybe, to appreciate the value of free air - even if it comes in a paid packet.