Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr- no - that was not me shivering in cold- but the ugly noisy contraption
my dad had rigged on to the door - passing by the nome de guerre of  a door-bell.  It sounded worse than the Woomba Woomba of a water-buffalo. I do not know why it was me who had to suffer this indignity. As it is ,in the small apartment we lived in , I had the honor of sleeping in the
living room - which was the front room.  Guess everyone, in the neighbourhood knew, it was I
who slept in that room.  The damn guy who used to deliver milk - would whack the door latch so hard that the whole damn apartment complex shook on its foundations - and to add insult to injury the moron would press the buzzer too.  Jeepers, I always woke up from the floor - after having fallen out of the bed(it was more like a coffin). 

I would grope and claw my way to the door, and open it and retrieve the milk - which by the way was three fourths water.  The milk man's kids were real roly-poly kids who had the luxury of bountless gallons of milk from all the packets their dad siphoned off the milk from.

Then came the newspaper guy- he too would slam the door latch and then buzzzzzzzzzzzzz the doorbell - damn idiots.
Through all this the rest of my family slept away.  Then came the ubiquitous dhobi and his donkey on their way to whereever, and, oh! my the donkey's hee-haw hee-haw was like the grating of a metal gate against a concrete floor (ass h--le - no pun intended).

And then - my neighbour would open his front door and MS Subbulakshmi's Suprabhatham would waft out along with it my neighbour's accompaniment also - dang- there goes my sleep.  I wake up and stumble on to brush my teeth and as always I have to explain to my dad how the toothpaste got smeared in the mirror - in my slumber induced stupor I inevitably ended up brushing the teeth that appeared on the mirror.

Then I stumble, under the shower and stand there, and curses soon follow - from folks at home  -"close the damn door when you take your shower".  Shower over, I gobble up breakfast - not even sure what goes in.  Dress up and run to the bus stop. Push my way into the bus - and jeepers within moments few the whole bus empties- other than the bus operator and the conductor- who would sniff the air and ask me - Kulikkilleya (did not take a shower?)of course I did and then yugghg the smell hits me.  It is my dress- I picked up the dress that I had put for washing- those were the clothes I had worn to play- yuuuuuuck.  It finally dawned on me why girls never sat next to me. 

In the class room - since I was the class midget I had to sit in the front bench and endure the frequent bombardment of paper rockets and catapulted paper bullets.  By the the time school was over my head generally becomes twice its size. Being the midget that I was I had to stare straight up to see our teacher- and our Geography teacher used to stand right over me and if I lookd up which was frequent enough -  I could stare right up his nose and into  his brains.  I sometimes had to hold an umbrella while he lectured since there was a frequent fall of rain from his mouth- that too laced with the nectar from thebetel leaf that he chewed incessantly. Then again half the times I would hear the beat of the drum and then later on realizethat it was my head banging against the desk top as my head met the desk as my eyes closed in slumber and so on......... it went.

Evening the bus ride home - ahh generally would get the seat but then soon I would be hidden behind piles of books that my less fortunatebuddies who have to stand would dump on me.  Then came the women's college stop- and my neighbour and her friends used to get in and she would go "Awww moe Cho chweet can you please hold our books - he he he - cho chweet no.  Disadvantages of  being a midget, ugly and a goober.  ..........

till another day I decide to write more .................