A lowly villager called Balram Halwai rises in the ranks when he becomes a chauffeur in an affluent family in the big city of Delhi. Nothing that goes on around him -- be it politics or family feuds -- escapes his eye, even as he feigns to be a meek servant. As the novel progresses, the homicidal chauffeur makes his own destiny, and becomes an entrepreneur.
The White Tiger tells the story of a side of India that we are all aware of, but we choose not to acknowledge or dwell upon it. We ignore it and move ahead with our lives. But this masterpiece from Man Booker-prize (2008) Winner, Aravind Adiga forces you to pay attention and ponder.
The theme of the book is sarcastic and aggressive. It is written in a series of letters to a Chinese leader who is about to visit India. The protagonist, Balram Halwai, is your run-of-the-mill, average villager who aspires to work in a big city some day and make it big in life. It portrays a tale of two India’s – An India which is “shining”: where wealth is flaunted extraordinarily and an India in “darkness”: where hundreds are faced everyday with the question of where would there next meal come from? The White Tiger is a penetrating piece of social commentary, attuned to the inequalities that persist despite India’s new prosperity.
Balram describes himself as a “half-baked” Indian, who worships uncountable number of gods and is proud of the way he “struggles” to become a successful entrepreneur. He works in a tea-shop where he comes to terms with how the world treats the poor. He is hired as chauffeur by a rich, affluent family. His three masters treat him disdainfully, yet he respects them for they are his employers. He observes how his master bribes the politicians, how he commands respect from all his minions and how everyone in this country dances to the tune of money. Balram decides to slay his master and runs off to a far-away city, Bangalore, where he becomes an entrepreneur. Balram justifies his employer’s murder as an act of class warfare. There is much talk in this novel of revolution and insurrection.
Adiga’s message isn’t subtle or novel, but Balram’s appealingly sardonic voice and acute observations of the social order are both winning and unsettling.
Balram’s violent bid for freedom is shocking. What, we’re left to ask, does it make him -- just another thug in India’s urban jungle or a revolutionary and idealist? It’s a sign of this book’s quality, as well as of its moral seriousness, that it keeps you guessing to the final page and beyond.
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