Mighty Pen!

"You're not allowed inside without a pen" he muttered.
Late to work as usual on a Monday morning, I had no time for the old watchman's wisecrack or his aging ego. In a nasty tone that I dread to use, I yelled back "what the f***? Are you out of your senses? I'm here to get my damn phone repaired and not here to write an exam!!"

Eagerly awaiting an apology and a fear stricken staff welcoming me inside, I looked around screwing up my face harder to show how disgusted i was. There was no audience, in spite of my unusual loud dialogue delivery. I could only see empty chairs and a very unconcerned receptionist busy talking on the office landline. Perhaps, this was a common welcome act. "Yuu are educated, and don’t carry a pen...what generation is this" he said and threw a pen on the table. "Signing compulsaari...in the registeru" and turned the worn-out register towards me. The waning act of anger waned further as I toned down my voice and replied sarcastically.."well...this is your register and your requirement....why should I carry a pen?" Not very keen about his answer I just signed on the register without bothering to enter any details and move on. "too many pens I lost saar, people sign and steal it" he murmured as he diligently examined the register I had just scribbled on.

I moved towards the door to enter the service center, assuring myself that very soon I will find someone to vent it out on.

As the door refused to welcome me in, the irritating voice filled my ears again "entree madbeku....switchu illi idey" (only after you enter the details will I press open the switch to the doors) the old man said. Biting my lips hard and wondering if my dead phone was worth the fight with a old man who derived sadistic pleasure, I grabbed it without looking at him and filled all the painful details. The 'purpose of visit' section was itching me to be as profane as I could be.

As a true Bangalorean who is conditioned to the 'adjust maadi' philosophy, my darkest thoughts waned as I looked at him again and consoled myself, as this be the good-deed-of-the-day and scribbled 'phone needs to be resurrected'

I threw the pen on the register after this to announce that my purpose of visit was on record. Without turning the register he tried to read what I had written, he turned his old head as much as he could holding on to his withered blue cap.

Twisting his cheeks a little more he murmured something. "Ri...swami....yenri nimma golu?" (what's your fuck up?!!) I asked. With a quick look he pressed the button door open and said "handwriting aa idu??"(what kind of handwriting is this!!)
"This is it!" I said to myself and stared back at him. This time, real hard.
Unperturbed and realising his folly, our man said "not yours saar...look at all others. These days computer maadtare....penu..pencilu...gone...."

Realising that our man is discontent with change in general, I walked past him and entered the service center, finally. After a fruitless effort to revive my phone, I walked past him again hastily not wanting anymore delays. Turning around to check if the next gullible customer had to go through the same, I stopped by at a distance, watching a pot-bellied man with thick gold chains hanging around his wrist build a surprisingly quick rapport with this dated gatekeeper. He just signed the register, smiled and the doors opened. I wondered if he was a regular customer and therefore a quick entry. As I began to move on leaving behind this 'service center' that didn't believe in service, the old man caught me watching this and embarrassingly screamed "Saar nodi...free pen kotru..avaru yaaro...neevu..next time baani pen hidikondu" (see...he's leaving behind his pen after signing, you do the same next time :-)