Coorg Versus Microcontrollers

It’s seven minutes past seven in the evening, and I decide to head to Nescafe for a coffee. The attire’s very boys’ hostel-ish but I’m too lazy for a change. I try to visualise the notes and coins in my pocket, and the lack of a one-rupee coin strikes me. The counter guy never has change at peak times, and I wonder if I should settle for the four Eclairs I might be offered after I hand the ten-rupee note. No- that’d amount to spending ten rupees instead of six. The only alternative is to lose possession of the one-rupee note I got from the same counter a few days ago. I have a thing for a few things- five-rupee coins, one and two-rupee notes, Dire Straits wallpapers, digressions and some more. The Ravindra circle is reached, and there’re all these dogs littered all around- most lying around aimlessly, some sleeping, and the odd one moving towards that big light pole to raise its leg around. A strange thought of the scene being my corridor comes and is pushed out. I decide I’ll sit and have my coffee- I’ve burnt my tongue one time two many to take the risk of walking back with that cup to Azad. I reach the counter, to hear the following conversation going on.

...aur bhaiya, sandwich aadha karke dena.

Sandwich to aadha hi hota hai.

Haan, use hi aadha karke dena. Accha, ek-chauthai hi sahi.

I find it unusual that such a routine-sounding conversation goes way over my head. Vowing to control my curiosity, I ask for my coffee, while a distinctly feminine voice feebly utters Excuse me. I get my elixir, while the lady in question goes unheard. A couple more Excuse me’s later, I’m asked to pay up, and, to my disappointment, I had to lose the prized note. That wasn’t the bother though, when I turned sheepishly to my right to find the source of the unheard requests, thinking of giving a short discourse on how to get heard in R with my two years’ earned, two-penny worth experience. That wasn’t to be, as a not-so-discrete female voice jammed in to utter Arre bhaiya, suno to! The feebler voice came back to give her order, and after that, went back to her discussion over some kitty matters about she said so-and-so about me, and I asked someone else, and she said blah-and-blah that only two girls with voices like the aforementioned kind indulge in. I make a half-turn to grab a look at their faces, but then realise that’d disturb the hand that holds a hot cup. I console my curiosity by reminding it that it’s still in R.

I forget my resolution to sit, and walk around the back side back to Azad, with the usual set of steps. Starting with my usual pace, which I realise isn’t necessary unless you want to spill the drink you just bought on your white T-shirt, I slow down to a slow drag. Even that isn’t good enough, with the regular rise and drop making me either sip R’s air, or making a few taste buds take medical leave from work. So, the usual set of steps is followed again, meaning I wave to every random soul I see in front of Ravindra, before I reach the circle past the dogs, when the coffee has gone a little colder and easier to sip, while the bubbly froth at the top is lost. Compromises have to be made when you’re dealing with pretty-sounding ladies and dogs. And politicos, too. But that’s another story.

It’s twenty-seven minutes past seven, and I, for no apparent reason, decide to post again.