Man at the petrol bunk

Statutory Warning: This is a work of fiction. Has no relation to living or dead. Any such parallels are co-incidental.
I am a Bangalorean. In fact I am from a town nearby, a small village to give the precise information. This is my story, it is short, i do not find it particularly sweet myself; anyway who am I to judge? I had a pleasant childhood with a lot of emphasis on values and cultural ethos, learning etc. I don't seem to have them any more, possibly I never had them. My Appa(father) was a clerk at the DC office, and we were 4 kids to him and amma(mother) who was a home-maker. I was the 2nd, neither too young in the family nor too old. I was very different from my siblings, well i never did learn the life of the educated Kan-Bram. My elder brother, was so damn good, he had the ability to fight, fight it down, in whatever he stumbled upon. Learning the verses came to him, quite easily. He performed puja once in a while, under the supervision of appa. Those were not good times for me. I stuttered while learning these things. It seemed beyond my grasp, I gave up. Schools weren't a happy ground either. I flunked a couple of times, and then i stopped. Stopped going to school, in fact. Well, my younger sister was darling in the house, and she seemed smart and affable to all. She and the younger brother, were pride of the town, they had something like Midas touch to whatever they did. Not that they always sailed smoothly, but to fight was natural to them. I made some friends in the neighborhood, but they left soon, some to study, some similar to me worked at the local and nearby areas.
Time just flew by. I lived care-free and like an animal.
I shifted to Bangalore, when appa told me to work because everybody was doing something and I was doing nothing. I did odd chores, got tired everyday and slept.
My elder brother became a doctor and stayed back at the town, everybody knows him now. The other two are in the US of A. They are returning soon, the last time heard about them.
These days, I take take care of the air division at the local petrol bunk. It is tiring, but satisfying.
I had the facilities, to be better off. But I never did use them, ignored them in fact.
We got to what we got to do, I tell myself at times.