The White Tiger

This is India, not America. There's always a way out here

A rich man’s body is like a premium cotton pillow, white and soft and blank. Ours are different. My father’s spine was a knotted rope, the kind that women use in villages to pull water from wells; the clavicle curved around his neck in high relief, like a dog’s collar; cuts and nicks and scars, like little whip marks in his flesh, ran down his chest and waist, reaching down below his hip‍

We are like sponges – we absorb and grow.

‘Do you have to hit the servants, Father?’
‘This is not America, son. Don’t ask questions like that.’

sum up – in the old days there were one thousand castes and destinies in India. These days, there are just two castes: Men with Big Bellies, and Men with Small Bellies.

Here’s a strange fact: murder a man, and you feel responsible for his life – possessive, even. You know more about him than his father and mother; they knew his foetus, but you know his corpse

I don’t keep a mobile phone, for obvious reasons – they corrode a man’s brains, shrink his balls, and dry up his semen, as all of us know – so I have to stay in the office.

Stork so they could have a lavish wedding and a lavish dowry for my cousin-sister. Now the Stork had called in his loan. He wanted all the members of the family working for him and he had seen me in school, or his collector had. So they had to hand me over too.
I was taken to the tea shop. Kishan folded his hands and bowed to the shopkeeper. I bowed to the shopkeeper too.
‘Who’s this?’ The shopkeeper squinted at me.
He was sitting under a huge portrait of Mahatma Gandhi, and I knew already that I was going to be in big trouble.
‘My brother,’ Kishan said. ‘He’s come to join me.’
Then Kishan dragged the oven out from the tea shop and told me to sit down. I sat down next to him. He brought a gunnysack; inside was a huge pile of coals. He took out a coal, smashed it on a brick, and then poured the black chunks into the oven.
‘Harder,’ he said, when I hit the coal against the brick. ‘Harder, harder.’
Finally I got it right – I broke the coal against the brick. He got up and said, ‘Now break every last coal in this bag like that.’
A little later, two boys came around from school to watch me. Then two more boys came; then two more. I heard giggling.
‘What is the creature that comes along only once in a generation?’ one boy asked loudly.
‘The coal breaker,’ another replied.

Stork so they could have a lavish wedding and a lavish dowry for my cousin-sister. Now the Stork had called in his loan. He wanted all the members of the family working for him and he had seen me in school, or his collector had. So they had to hand me over too.
I was taken to the tea shop. Kishan folded his hands and bowed to the shopkeeper. I bowed to the shopkeeper too.
‘Who’s this?’ The shopkeeper squinted at me.
He was sitting under a huge portrait of Mahatma Gandhi, and I knew already that I was going to be in big trouble.
‘My brother,’ Kishan said. ‘He’s come to join me.’
Then Kishan dragged the oven out from the tea shop and told me to sit down. I sat down next to him. He brought a gunnysack; inside was a huge pile of coals. He took out a coal, smashed it on a brick, and then poured the black chunks into the oven.
‘Harder,’ he said, when I hit the coal against the brick. ‘Harder, harder.’
Finally I got it right – I broke the coal against the brick. He got up and said, ‘Now break every last coal in this bag like that.’
A little later, two boys came around from school to watch me. Then two more boys came; then two more. I heard giggling.
‘What is the creature that comes along only once in a generation?’ one boy asked loudly.
‘The coal breaker,’ another replied.

so they could have a lavish wedding and a lavish dowry for my cousin-sister. Now the Stork had called in his loan. He wanted all the members of the family working for him and he had seen me in school, or his collector had. So they had to hand me over too.
I was taken to the tea shop. Kishan folded his hands and bowed to the shopkeeper. I bowed to the shopkeeper too.
‘Who’s this?’ The shopkeeper squinted at me.
He was sitting under a huge portrait of Mahatma Gandhi, and I knew already that I was going to be in big trouble.
‘My brother,’ Kishan said. ‘He’s come to join me.’
Then Kishan dragged the oven out from the tea shop and told me to sit down. I sat down next to him. He brought a gunnysack; inside was a huge pile of coals. He took out a coal, smashed it on a brick, and then poured the black chunks into the oven.
‘Harder,’ he said, when I hit the coal against the brick. ‘Harder, harder.’
Finally I got it right – I broke the coal against the brick. He got up and said, ‘Now break every last coal in this bag like that.’
A little later, two boys came around from school to watch me. Then two more boys came; then two more. I heard giggling.
‘What is the creature that comes along only once in a generation?’ one boy asked loudly.
‘The coal breaker,’ another replied.