The White Tiger

Book Review

Aravind Adiga

The White Tiger is a tale of a modern India of call centres and entrepreneurialism. This India goes beyond the India of Paul Theroux, Arundhati Roy, or even Salman Rushdie. It is the India created by off-shoring and globalisation.

Balram Halwai narrates the story in this novel, and does so in the form of correspondence to a Mr. Jiabao, who is the premier of China . Balram is a self-made man, and he wants Mr. Jiabao (and the reader) to be aware of his status as an entrepreneur, hoping that the Chinese man will learn more about the “real” India from his letters, rather than learning from the formal events conducted for him by India 's government. As the blades of his plastic chandelier turn in his small office, Balram spends his evenings telling the Chinese premier about his life and his India , while working as an outsourced vendor for American companies.

Balram comes from a poor village, where the extended family lives together under one roof with their beloved water buffalo, which is fed and nurtured prior to any human family member. In this village, Balram learns about the harsh facts of poverty and about government corruption, which is used each year to “buy” the votes of the poor villagers.

Balram describes his village to the premier:

“Your Excellency, I am proud to inform you that Laxmangarh is your typical Indian village paradise, adequately supplied with electricity, running water, and working telephones; and that the children of my village, raised on a nutritious diet of meat, eggs, vegetables, and lentils, will be found, when examined with tape measure and scales,, to match up to the minimum height and weight standards set by the United Nations and other organizations whose treaties our prime minister has signed and whose forums he so regularly and pompously attends.

Ha!

 

Electricity poles – defunct.

 

Water tap – broken.

 

Children – too lean and short for their age, and with over-sized heads from which vivid eyes shine, like the guilty conscience of the government of India .

 

Yes, a typical Indian village paradise, Mr Jiabao. One day I'll have to come to China and see if your village paradises are any better.”

Balram learns how to drive, and escapes Laxmangargh by becoming the driver for the son of a local landlord, Mr. Ashok, and for his wife, Pinky Madam. Through Balram's eyes, watching his employers, newly returned from living in America , the east meets the west in a daily comparison of overt collective consumption. He observes their pettiness, and the injustice of his situation crystallizes when he is forced to sign a statement taking the blame for a hit and run accident for which he was not responsible.

Balram enacts what must be a fantasy of many of the working class—he killed his employer and took the man's money, using it to start up a business of his own driving call centre employees to and from work.

This novel has a driving and compelling narrative, and Balram possesses a unique charm, despite his dubious dealings. The subject matter is current, and the writing is quite good. Whether this is Booker Prize winning material remains to be seen.