The white tiger - a black story

For a while now, I have had an incessant itch to revive my long lost reading habit. On a recent casual shopping trip my eyes fell on "the white tiger" at Waterstones. I remembered the recent announcement of the man booker prize awarded to this book, and decided to pick it up.

Author Aravind Adiga has left me with very mixed feelings. Being indian myself, and having spent some years of my childhood life in Delhi, I was terribly disappointed by the very narrow vision of India as a country that he has chosen to portray in this book.

Although, if I was to put my patriotic pride aside - the book is a simple yet gripping narration of a murder story. I must admit I found it hard to put down. It also in a very painful manner shows how a ordinary man from birth is easily and ruthlessly influenced and shaped by the society around him. The book is written as a first person narrative, which puts the reader right inside the mind of the character, and as the story unfolded I found myself helplessly agreeing with the perceptions of the central character to the story and the effects of the various incidents as
they occur in his life.

Probably the most frustating aspect of the book is how a extraordinary sequence of happenings and circumstances draw a dire picture of India in general. But having said that, one has to admit that not a single detail rings false Or feels untrue.

On the whole the book is a huge frustration for India and Indians. Although, as a nation India is ofcourse above any one award winning book.

On the otherhand it brings to bear some very real, very known, and more than often ignored fears and facts of the richest and the poorest in India.

Agreed no one likes their dirty washing made public, but "the white tiger" is a overkill - a black story.