Meet Balram Halwal, the 'White Tiger': servant, philosopher, entrepreneur, murderer. Over the course of seven nights, by the scattered light of a preposterous chandelier, Balram tells his story....
Born in a village in the dark heart of India, the son of a rickshaw puller, Balram is taken out of school by his family and put to work in a tea shop. As he crushes coal and wipes tables, he nurses a dream of escape, of breaking away from the banks of Mother Ganga, into whose murky depths have seeped the remains of a hundred generations.
His big chance comes when a rich village landlord hires him as a chauffeur for his son, his daughter-in-law, and their two Pomeranian dogs. From behind the wheel of a Honda, Balram first sees Delhi.
.The city is a revelation. Amid the cockroaches and call centres, the 36,000,004 gods, the slums, the shopping malls and the crippling traffic jams, Balram's reeducation begins. Caught between his instinct to be a loyal son and servant and his desire to better himself, he learns of a new morality at the heart of a new India.
As the other servants flick through the pages of Murder Weekly, Balram begins to see how the tiger might escape his cage. For surely any successful man must spill a little blood on his way to the top.
The White Tiger is a tale of two Indias. Balram's journey from the darkness of village life to the light of entrepreneurial success is utterly amoral, brilliantly irreverent, deeply endearing and altogether unforgettable.
©2008 Aravind Adiga (P)2008 Orion Publishing Group
"Good Story and Narrative ! "
Great story , you really tend to see the prospective of the narrator . The thick Indian accent draws me more towards the story and is quite funny .
"Frustrating and irritating"
This story while being completely politically incorrect, as someone of Indian descent, I can say there are some home truths. No doubt corruption is rampant in India, however, I don't think Aravind Adiga has the right to sit on his middle class Oxford educated pedestal and lecture the working class masses for their aspirations. This should have been written from a naval gazing perspective, in the circles that Adiga is more familiar with.
The performance by Kerry Shale was equally irritating, as it was clear that an English man was imitating the accent adding insult to injury. He could not pronounce any of the place names correctly which was a massive giveaway in terms of the accent. It does make sense though why no Asian person would touch this with a bargepole. Slightly astounded that this won the Man Booker Prize.
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