I waited for my turn to get served with a cup of filter coffee in that famous hotel, following social distance. Cursing the sun for still being hot though it was around 05:30 p.m. that evening, I did what I normally do when I get some free time - watching others and things around me. The woman who made the coffee was quick, ensured that not a drop of coffee decoction was spilled on the table, and quickly made 4 servings. The aroma was captivating as I moved ahead, thinking about my turn. The tumbler looked small and I am sure, cannot hold more than 8 flattened round lollipops each of 3 cm radius and about 1.5 cm thick. And the decoction she added first for a serving - God! I reckon that it was just an ounce; may be slightly more. The hot dark golden brown liquid looked like a dollop of mountain honey, only this one would taste bitter but. I love to see the changing color when milk is added to the decoction. It feels like comforting an angry person through kind words and deeds, resulting in a thaw. Here, I saw that in a fast forward mode, that could relate to dealing an angry person with more anger. The ounce that added a delightful color and taste to several times its volume of milk by merging readily yet, registering its presence, unleashed some thoughts in me. "Move!", came a "kind" voice that brought me back as I stumbled a bit and soon got my cup of coffee. Boy! It tasted good, though it was priced much more. I thanked her and left. An ounce you know as a measure, approximately equates to 28.35 grams and 29.57 ml, I came to know. What is the point of knowing such trivial things, one may ask. I don't know, but I keep collecting such tidbits of information, which help me at times; may be showing me as a person having more knowledge than what others may think, at first. The ounce as a measure was first registered strongly in me during my freshman year when my chemistry instructor asked us to pick about 2 ounces of phenol. I did that and picked up the sodium piece dipped in kerosene. Next moment there was a small explosion and I felt a scalding pain on my left wrist and a couple of my fingers. Thankfully no further damage to self and others, I decided to stop thinking wild while doing an experiment. Life is made up of many such small things like an ounce of decoction in coffee. We feel naïve at times, get exposed, learn, lose and win some, support a few in need and feel useful. Nothing is white and black and we get to know that as we grow. We just move on with our own shillings and brave things that are many a pound bigger. It becomes increasingly difficult and we may choose to play the victim card for a while, after a loss and brag when we get small victories. Come whatever may, we don't just give up until it is something very extreme. But we realize that we need to move on. Perhaps, among all other things in us, there is an ounce of divine that consoles us in grief, propels us at times when we must, brings us that ray of hope when we are immersed in a deep mess, keep us pushing our own barriers and brings us happiness in those rare occasions which we preserve and reminisce. To quote Cicero, "The beginnings of all things are small."