In general, there is a tendency to spruce up the truth. Events are embellished; colors are enhanced. In some respects, this is an element of story telling; a story needs a hook, a startling detail. But sometimes the brilliance of the scenery overshadows the impact of the bare details. Aesthetic beauty is used as salvation, as balm. This is not the case in Aravind Adiga's raw, scathing, and humorous portrait of India in his first novel, "The White Tiger."
Balram is our narrator. The book is framed in letters. He tells his story in detailed accounts addressed to the Premier of China who is scheduled to visit India. Though he begins his one-way correspondence with cordial—if sardonic—formality, Balram quickly slips into a chummy tone in his notes to the Premier.
He advocates an alliance of Eastern powers, ridicules the age of white invaders, and heralds the time that will irretrievably banish them into the past. Balram is garrulous and full of opinionated verve. He is sharp and appealing, but in no way a pitiable or endearing figure.
Through Balram, the reader is educated in the social dynamics of India. He is born into "the Darkness," the scope of the country that lies well beyond the stretch of first world ideals and luxuries. His village is rural and is excluded not only from "civilized" comforts but also from the opportunity to aspire toward something more.
Adiga is unrestrained in his depictions of the squalor and hopelessness that sustains the lives of millions in India. Even loyalty becomes a commodity when the terms of survival are constantly shifting and a wife or family becomes a burden.
Balram is only one of many caught in the stagnant web of low class anonymity until he is arbitrarily chosen to work as a driver in Delhi. His employer, Ashok, is the son of the wealthy man who lords over the countryside that is Balram's home.
In the presence of his employer, Balram is exceptionally deferential. He is expected to limit all his human attributes except obedience. Balram quickly recognizes that even when a rich member of society makes a gesture of kindness, there is always an agenda.
Balram is neither a rundown nor a bitter character. He is lively and clever. His remarks are penetrating and steeped in unforgiving satire. Balram provokes astonishment and disgusted despair, but amid the various despicable events, there is no tone of entreaty. A mirror is held up to the reader. There is no specific accusation and thus no escape.
Balram is not cruel and his narrative reveals that he tries to abide by the terms of the system to get ahead. But his wages are embarrassingly small, and the indignities colossal. Those at the top are determined to stay there and the people on the bottom tiers are blithely eliminated from the equation when they begin to struggle.
Discovering that if he doesn't stay in his place he will plummet, Balram breaks, or at least shifts the balance. This occurs when he murders his employer.
Balram reveals this misdeed at the conclusion of the first chapter. From there Adiga expertly maneuvers flashbacks to reveal Balram's history.
"The White Tiger" and, by association, India (and perhaps circumstances at large), does not conform to conventional theories of right and wrong.
If Balram is not a sympathetic character, he is at least one whose motives and needs are easily understood. Humans resist when they are fettered. Balram breaks free. Essentially, he is exonerated for the murder he commits.
Balram twists the system instead of abiding by it, and creates a more comfortable life for himself. One gets the feeling, however, that the cycle might just be repeating from an alternative origin.