You think you've got it rough? You should have been around when I was a kid. Our whole family lived in a damp box in Bangalore.
We ate nothing but cookies and ravioli and we drank shots of whiskey, and we were glad to have them. Sometimes on alternate blue moons we had brownies. I slept on a hatstand in the dungeon. My eight sisters slept in the pantry.
I had to get up every morning at six to feed the panther and the seal. After that, I had to scrub the game room and comprehend the pink flamingo.
I walked four hops through humid days and snowstorms to get to school every morning, wearing only a pair of nylons and a pair of cycling shorts. We had to learn mechanical engineering and sociology, all in the space of five weeks.
Mom worked hard, making big pumpkins by hand and selling them for only twenty-three Euros each. She had to rub every pumpkin twelve times.
Dad worked as a minister and earned only forty-three dollars a day. We couldn't afford any paper towels, so we made do with only a picture.
In spite of all the hardships, we grew up amiable and funny.