The White Tiger - Aravind Adiga
The White Tiger’s tale of entrepreneurship in modern India is a dark and witty glimpse into the divisions faced by those living and working in one of the most rapidly changing countries on Earth. In his Booker Prize winning novel, Adiga juggles morality, philosophy, and greed through the story of a driver’s life of servitude to Delhi’s rich and powerful.
From a lavish apartment lit with chandeliers, wanted murderer Balram Halwai writes to the Premier of China to explain the concept of Indian entrepreneurship in the lead-up to a state visit. His letters, through which the narrative is framed, are a confession of the acts he committed to break free from the “rooster coop” of Indian society, taking us from his impoverished childhood to his current status as a wealthy businessman and fugitive from the law.
I read The White Tiger on the suggestion of the people I met while travelling around India, and it’s easy to see why the novel was so highly recommended as an example of original Indian literature. Adiga does not shy away from the country’s issues of class division and corruption, writing in a style that gets to the heart of cultural cornerstones such as religion, democracy, and caste in a way that is accessible to foreign readers and uniquely honest in its depiction of India’s underbelly. Balram tells of rigged elections, bribed officials, and underhanded arrangements as he takes us from his childhood days, through his life as a driver, and up to the eventual act of murder. His narrative is full of immoral acts and internal struggles, while his tongue-in-cheek observations provide some relief from the darker moments in the story.
Balram is a complicated and deeply flawed character. Born to a lowly caste of sweet makers in the corrupt village of Laxambargh, it’s easy to sympathise with his struggle to rise out of ‘the Darkness’ (a term which describes those living in poverty and oppression) and into ‘the Light’. For a while I was willing Balram to succeed in his quest. As he says himself, he stands as a representation of ‘tomorrow’: a man transcending his status in a globalised world. His self-serving nature quickly comes to the surface when he enters the service of the local landlords and abuses religious prejudice to his advantage. As his transgressions continue, it becomes clear that Balram is a character that will do anything to get ahead, even at the cost of others in his position.
His relationship with his masters is the most intriguing part of The White Tiger. Balram is constantly conflicted about whether he admires Mr Ashok or despises him. He shuns the company of other drivers, choosing instead to practice yoga and assume other aspects of his master’s life in small, rebellious acts of envy while simultaneously judging and resenting him for his lifestyle.
"Do we loathe our masters behind a facade of love - or do we love them behind a facade of loathing?
The novel suffers slightly from a lack of engaging female characters. Balram’s interactions with women are almost entirely limited to encounters with prostitutes, unspoken judgement of his master’s wife Pinky Madam, and ignoring letters from his nagging aunt. I got the feeling these characters were stereotypes by design. By portraying the women in his life as two dimensional, we are shown Balram’s misogynism and isolation. While these characters serve important roles in the story, it would have been nice to see some depth to its female characters in a book that comments so heavily on a changing India.
The structure of the novel works surprisingly well despite the inexplicable lengthiness of each of Balram’s letters. His writing to Wen Jiabao is less a means of direct communication and more a platform for him to share the story of his success. I was never quite sure if Balram’s letters were his idea of seeking forgiveness, or simply a means of bragging about the crimes he got away with. That’s the brilliance of Adiga’s protagonist; for all his love of philosophy, his motivations are about as unreliable as they come. We never hear of any replies from the Premier of China, which could have been an interesting end to the novel, but then again; it speaks greatly of Balram’s ego that he expects the head of state to read his letters.
The White Tiger is a journey through India’s exploding economic status from those at the bottom of the pile. There’s something refreshingly honest about the way Adiga shows us the lives of those living in crowded basements below the masters’ penthouses, and how they struggle to find their place in a country torn between tradition and rising modernity. Balram Halwai may not be a likeable or even reliable narrator, but his story is a thrilling insight into India’s rich and poor divide, and the spirit of entrepreneurship in the face of adversity.
The White Tiger’s tale of entrepreneurship in modern India is a dark and witty glimpse into the divisions faced by those living and working in one of the most rapidly changing countries on Earth. In his Booker Prize winning novel, Adiga juggles morality, philosophy, and greed through the story of a driver’s life of servitude to Delhi’s rich and powerful.
From a lavish apartment lit with chandeliers, wanted murderer Balram Halwai writes to the Premier of China to explain the concept of Indian entrepreneurship in the lead-up to a state visit. His letters, through which the narrative is framed, are a confession of the acts he committed to break free from the “rooster coop” of Indian society, taking us from his impoverished childhood to his current status as a wealthy businessman and fugitive from the law.
I read The White Tiger on the suggestion of the people I met while travelling around India, and it’s easy to see why the novel was so highly recommended as an example of original Indian literature. Adiga does not shy away from the country’s issues of class division and corruption, writing in a style that gets to the heart of cultural cornerstones such as religion, democracy, and caste in a way that is accessible to foreign readers and uniquely honest in its depiction of India’s underbelly. Balram tells of rigged elections, bribed officials, and underhanded arrangements as he takes us from his childhood days, through his life as a driver, and up to the eventual act of murder. His narrative is full of immoral acts and internal struggles, while his tongue-in-cheek observations provide some relief from the darker moments in the story.
Balram is a complicated and deeply flawed character. Born to a lowly caste of sweet makers in the corrupt village of Laxambargh, it’s easy to sympathise with his struggle to rise out of ‘the Darkness’ (a term which describes those living in poverty and oppression) and into ‘the Light’. For a while I was willing Balram to succeed in his quest. As he says himself, he stands as a representation of ‘tomorrow’: a man transcending his status in a globalised world. His self-serving nature quickly comes to the surface when he enters the service of the local landlords and abuses religious prejudice to his advantage. As his transgressions continue, it becomes clear that Balram is a character that will do anything to get ahead, even at the cost of others in his position.
His relationship with his masters is the most intriguing part of The White Tiger. Balram is constantly conflicted about whether he admires Mr Ashok or despises him. He shuns the company of other drivers, choosing instead to practice yoga and assume other aspects of his master’s life in small, rebellious acts of envy while simultaneously judging and resenting him for his lifestyle.
"Do we loathe our masters behind a facade of love - or do we love them behind a facade of loathing?
The novel suffers slightly from a lack of engaging female characters. Balram’s interactions with women are almost entirely limited to encounters with prostitutes, unspoken judgement of his master’s wife Pinky Madam, and ignoring letters from his nagging aunt. I got the feeling these characters were stereotypes by design. By portraying the women in his life as two dimensional, we are shown Balram’s misogynism and isolation. While these characters serve important roles in the story, it would have been nice to see some depth to its female characters in a book that comments so heavily on a changing India.
The structure of the novel works surprisingly well despite the inexplicable lengthiness of each of Balram’s letters. His writing to Wen Jiabao is less a means of direct communication and more a platform for him to share the story of his success. I was never quite sure if Balram’s letters were his idea of seeking forgiveness, or simply a means of bragging about the crimes he got away with. That’s the brilliance of Adiga’s protagonist; for all his love of philosophy, his motivations are about as unreliable as they come. We never hear of any replies from the Premier of China, which could have been an interesting end to the novel, but then again; it speaks greatly of Balram’s ego that he expects the head of state to read his letters.
The White Tiger is a journey through India’s exploding economic status from those at the bottom of the pile. There’s something refreshingly honest about the way Adiga shows us the lives of those living in crowded basements below the masters’ penthouses, and how they struggle to find their place in a country torn between tradition and rising modernity. Balram Halwai may not be a likeable or even reliable narrator, but his story is a thrilling insight into India’s rich and poor divide, and the spirit of entrepreneurship in the face of adversity.