Groin scratching

Book: The White Tiger
Bus: #56; 6:04 a.m.
Pages read: 115 - 127

More on driving in India:

"Every now and then, the various horns, each with its own pitch, blended into one continuous wail that sounded like a calf taken from its mother [awesome simile]. Fumes filled the air. Wisps of blue exhaust glowed in front of every headlight; the exhaust grew so fat and thick it could not rise or escape, but spread horizontally, sluggish and glossy, making a kind of fog around us." pg 115. Add to this coughed up phlegm splattering window and you have a traffic jam in India. I'm packing my bags for India right now.

Balram, while in the comfort of an air-conditioned automobile, looks at the poor lining the roads as they spend their days like all others; waiting for ??? In these blank, dirty faces he sees his father's eyes looking back at him. Balram feels a kinship to the squatters. The difference? While those people are living in the Darkness, Balram's Darkness is now merely the shadows of his masters amid the surrounding light.

Still, Balram complains. "The worst part of being a driver is that you have hours to yourself while waiting for your employer. You can spend this time chitchatting and scratching your groin." pg 126 Now come on, sure waiting around tapping your toes is a bit frustrating, but you get to scratch your groin. How bad can it really be? A few disinfectant wipes in the glove box to wipe the steering wheel every now and then and life's good. Much better than cleaning the red paan spit from the spittoon.

Venting - read if you want

Book: The White Tiger
Bus #44; 6:12 a.m.
Pages read: 95-107

I need to vent, so I am adding to my earlier post.

Erotophonophilia is the topic of the casual reading of the servants in India. Or at least that is what Adiga/Balram asserts. A very popular magazine that all chauffeurs read while waiting for their masters to return from a night of revelry is "Murder Weekly." Murder Weekly contains stories like, "A Good Body Never Goes to Waste." Balram assures that the magazine doesn't fuel any violence b/c "...the murderer in the magazine is so mentally disturbed and sexually deranged that not one reader would want to be like him...." pg. 105. Adiga adds a lighthearted funny follow up, "It's when your driver starts to read about Gandhi and Buddha that it's time to wet your pants...." pg 105 In the context of casual humor this subject makes me sick, regardless of any literary purpose. Though I don't believe that Adiga's writings will promote or condone the practice (vast numbers of "The White Tiger" readers seeking out such materials), I just think it is inappropriate. My opinion unjustified? You can probably make a very accurate rebuttal to my opinion. But I still feel a line has been crossed. The context (subtle/casual humor) of which this criminal behavior is tossed about is unsettling at best.

Perhaps I feel this way b/c I work in the field of criminal law. I read and hear accounts of unbelievably horrific crimes on a daily basis: child sexual abuse, rape, torture, murder. These things really happen to people. And I cannot read something like this without being flooded with unwanted thoughts of the real life victims; the real life individuals who perpetrate the crime; and those real life individuals who read these materials. The truth makes the depiction of it in a lighthearted manner deplorable.

Lost in Delhi

Book: The White Tiger
Bus: #44; 6:12 a.m.
Pages read: 95 - 107

Being a chauffeur in Delhi is a challenging task. If you were to enter a starting point and the destination into Google Maps you would get the directions, "Are you fucking kidding me?" This is because a blind illiterate was in charge of Delhi's civic planning. For example, in a housing colony (development) house number "A 231" is next to "F 378". When looking for "E 231" Balram tracked down (tracking as in knowing the inhabitant's scent and using a hound dog's sense of smell to locate that individual and hopefully he/she will be at the address you are looking for) "E 200" and the "E" block vanished completely and the next house was "S" something. This impossible task of navigating Delhi is compounded by the fact that "[If y]ou ask someone, "Where's Nikolai Copernicus Marg ?" And he could be a man who lived on Nikolai Copernicus Marg his whole life, and he'll open his mouth and say, "Hahn?" Or he'll say, "Straight ahead, then turn left," even though he has no idea." pg 99. Big smile for that one.

Problematic for a driver? Yes, especially when you consider the consequences for taking too long to find a location is being called an imbecile and receiving a smack in the head. If I were a driver in Delhi I would invest in a bike helmet.