The Backyard of a Powerhouse

In a mainly Anglo-Saxon dominated world English speaking countries have an edge on others.

English is the common language for the Indian middle and upper classes. They benefit from it in their struggle to move India  from an emerging country to a 21st century’s superpower. And especially in the literary domain it did help Indian authors to gain world wide fame: Salman Rushdie (Midnight’s Children), Vikram Seth (A Suitable Boy) or Arundhati Roy (The God of  small things) to mention a few. It’s different for the Pramoedya Ananta Toers or the Ayu Utamis. Indonesian authors  ( and Dutch ones for that matter) always have to take the hurdle of translation first before they will be recognized outside of their home country.

Anyhow, India may be – for all the differences – an  interesting case to grasp the future of Indonesian though. It’s a huge, democratic, former colony  and transforming at the speed of lightning also. The vanguard of Indian society shows the way along which other large and populous emerging countries may go sooner or later. And the best of it’s literature often shows the rearguard; the hardship of the poor and the discrepancies in such societies. So perhaps Indian authors can provide warning signals by which the most terrifying threats elsewhere can be avoided.

Now “The White Tiger” by Aravind Adiga is another proof of the advantage of English speaking super-talented Indian  authors. The writer is a novice, but his first novel ( 2008) immediately drew the attention of  the English literary establishment and even won the Booker Prize. Which means the book sells by the millions and the author already has reached an inviolable star status. Quite similar to what  happened to his colleague Arundhati Roy about a decade earlier. Another similarity between them is that her most recent book , the non fiction “Listening to Grasshoppers”,  shows the disturbing dark side behind the shining appearances at the surface of the emerging super power India, while  Aviga’s “The White Tiger” does so by fiction. India may be an economic powerhouse, but it is one without, I quote,  “drinking water, electricity, public transportation, sense of hygiene, discipline, courtesy or punctuality”

Though the subject is a serious, heavy and tough one, the book is written in a light key. It’s an almost picaresque novel composed of seven nightly letters by the narrator  to the Chinese prime minister, who is set to visit India. The main character is a smart pauper with only a few years of education, who has slip slided to the top.  He started as a son of a rickshaw-puller in a Laxmangarh at the center of India’s forsaken “darkness”,  where his schoolteacher recognizes his potential and calls him the White Tiger – an exceptional talent in other words. By chance he manages to become  the chauffeur of the youngest son of a wealthy upper class landlord family. His employer moves to Delhi , to the “Light”. Balram, his new name, rapidly gets streetwise and gradually learns to see through the dealings and wheelings of his master.  Ultimately he murders his pretty sympathetic boss Ashok, robs him of a little fortune, flees successfully to the South and becomes a successful entrepreneur by the new  name of Ashok Sharma in Bangalore. The  message he wants to transfer by the story of his life is that  a pauper, a servant, a small belly, who wants to free himself from the Rooster Coop  ( that is:  the mental cage in which he is being kept or rather keeps  himself  in) to change into a big belly, needs to be egoistic, ungrateful, ruthless and prepared to sever all ties with his family. And that he should stick at nothing, murder included. Essentially that’s what he tells mr Wen Jiabao.

Adiga depicts the moral abyss of both the obscene wealth  of the few and the extreme poverty of the overwhelming majority.  There is a small percentage of big bellies in India and a huge percentage of small bellies.”Never in history so few owe so much to so many”.  Raw capitalism once more proves to be extremely unfair. Bribe-paying and rule-bending hardly stir public opinion anymore after these means have achieved their ends. In the rural “Darkness” servitude prevails, servants in Delhi live in rotting basements below the luxurious apartments of their employers,  they are framed by their bosses for crimes they didn’t commit, parliamentary democracy is a travesty- elections are being rigged, government ministers and  officials are being bribed. The bottom line of the society is: you are either a big belly or a small belly.

In spite of all this, the voice of the book is unsentimental, energetic and funny. It’s literary merit  first and foremost is  that it is a compelling read. A page turner even. The narrator in a mysterious way charms the reader. Which is odd: he demonstrates that poverty may create  a rascal, a scoundrel, perhaps even a monster – but it is by the talent of the author that as a reader you stay charmed by the guy. His adventures are endearing, fascinating, unbelievable and, well, appalling sometimes. Yet he keeps your, well at least my,  sympathy. Indeed, Adiga, knows how to write; sarcastic, satirical, clear, cunning, and usually hilarious.

All emerging countries should be blessed with such  critical authors and intellectuals.