I’m sure you’ve all seen the viral unboxing video of the goodie bags distributed at the BRICS summit. What people don’t know is that it was just one kind of media kit — meant mainly for foreign journalists and delegates. They were distributed at the time of registration, and obviously, much like everything else done by the government, a tremendous amount of thought went into the curation of its contents, which included several fabulous artefacts unique to India’s culture and tradition, such as water bottle, coffee mug and fridge magnet.

What the unboxing video doesn’t tell you is that hundreds of other kinds of goodie bags were also given out. And none of them had the same set of goodies as any of the others. Each one was unique, customised for the individual journalist, by the individual journalist. I don’t know how it has gone unreported but there was a ‘Make your own goodie bag’ option on the BRICS portal for reporters covering the event. There was, of course, a cap on how many items you could pick, but the limit was different for different people. One famous TV anchor told me he was allowed to select 32 items. For me, the upper limit was half of that, just 16. But the number wasn’t the only differentiator. The items on offer also changed depending on whether you were from a TV channel or digital news site, an influencer, or a print journalist.

I have heard that influencers had the best options, which allegedly included an iPhone 19 Pro Max, a Romanian water purifier, and a couple’s voucher for a Taj luxury spa.

This column is a satirical take on life and society.

The essentials go to print

As a print journalist, I knew the goodies awaiting me would be tailored accordingly. But even I was staggered by how knowledgeable the government was regarding the life conditions of print journalists.

Unlike what you may have seen in the various unboxing videos, when I clicked on the drop-down menu, there was no makhana from Bihar, coffee powder from Odisha, or sattu powder from Gujarat. What would I do with makhana anyway — eat them? Wife keeps crunching away on them at all times of the day and night but I know and you know they are a scam. What does makhana contain? It is not rich in protein, it is not rich in fat, it is not rich in vitamins or minerals. Sure, not all foods are consumed for their nutritional value alone. But makhana doesn’t even offer you energy. It contains practically no calories, and to top it all, tastes exactly like roasted thermocol. I am positive that, if instead of dry fruits, they had kept bowls of makhana on the table when the Iranian President was speaking, our esteemed civil servants wouldn’t have been caught gobbling away on camera.

Ditto for sattu powder, also a favourite with Wife. The days she decides dinner will be sattu rotis are the days I feel motivated enough to complete my 16-hour intermittent fasting. It’s not just the taste — have any of you seen a real, live sattu roti with the naked eye? They have such bad skin compared to a normal roti — instead of eating them you feel like taking them out for a neem facial.

My 16-item shopping list

Anyway, coming back to my goodies selection, the first three items were a no-brainer: 5 kg of fortified rice kernels, three litres of cooking oil, and 5 kg of Aashirwad atta. Given how the prices of essentials have been rising, it was extremely thoughtful to offer grocery options to print journalists, and I salute the government for their kindness. I also selected 2 kg jaggery, 5 packets of maida, 2 kg each of arhar dal, moong dal, rajma and kabuli chana. Then I picked two 100 gm packets each of haldi, dhania powder, jeera powder, garam masala and Kashmiri lal mirch. Unfortunately, they did not offer chaat masala. An oversight that is hard to explain.

This being the month of September, I had been lighting diyas from the first day of the month. So lastly, I picked 500 diyas (to give away to neighbours for the Grand Deepak Lighting Ceremony on September 17), and 2 kg cotton. That completed my quota of 16 items. Obviously, it’s not possible to fit all of these into a laptop bag. So I changed the default ‘goodie bag type’ from ‘laptop bag’ to ‘pure jute gunny sack’. It wasn’t easy for me to lug home a sackful of groceries all the way from Bharat Mandapam but as you all know by now, I’m not the complaining type.

The author of this satire is Social Affairs Editor, .