Aravind Adiga
Aravind Adiga
Aravind Adigais an Indian-Australian writer and journalist. His debut novel, The White Tiger, won the 2008 Man Booker Prize...
NationalityIndian
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth23 October 1974
CountryIndia
country drinking men
I gather you yellow-skinned men, despite your triumphs in sewage, drinking water, and Olympic gold medals, still don't have democracy. Some politician on the radio was saying that that's why we Indian are going to beat you: we may not have sewage, drinking water, and Olympic gold medals, but we do have democracy. If I were making a country, I'd get the sewage pipes first, then the democracy, then I'd go about giving pamphlets and statues of Gandhi to other people, but what do I know? I am just a murderer!
dark hands eggs
With their tinted windows up, the cars of the rich go like dark eggs down the roads of Delhi. Every now and then an egg will crack open a woman's hand, dazzling with gold bangles, stretches out an open window, flings an empty mineral water bottle onto the road and then the window goes up, and the egg is resealed.
men done world
Because in this world, there is a line: on one side are the men who cannot get things done, and on the other side are the men who can. And not one in a hundred will cross that line. Will you?
dog father cutting
A rich man's body is like a premium cotton pillow, white and soft and blank. ''Ours'' is 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 bones into his buttocks. The story of a poor man's life is written on his body, in a sharp pen.
mother father fighting
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 fetus, but you know his corpse. Only you can complete the story of his life, only you know why his body has to be pushed into the fire before its time, and why his toes curl up and fight for another hour on earth.
language study columbia
Columbia University, where I went to study in 1993, insisted its undergraduates learn a foreign language, so I discovered French.
country disaster
I’ve lived in several countries and been a disaster everywhere.
beautiful gun boys
Iqbal, that great poet, was so right. The moment you recognize what is beautiful in this world, you stop being a slave. To hell with the Naxals and their guns shipped from China. If you taught every poor boy how to paint, that would be the end of the rich in India.
white no-friends dangerous
A White Tiger keeps no friends. It's too dangerous.
genuine-concern loathing masters
Do we loathe our masters behind a facade of love - or do we love them behind a facade of loathing?
men stories body
The story of a poor man's life is written on his body, in a sharp pen.
important trying world
At a time when India is going through great changes and, with China, is likely to inherit the world from the West, it is important that writers like me try to highlight the brutal injustices of society.
speak-english speak said
Neither you nor I speak English, but there are some things that can be said only in English.
men past growing
A man's past keeps growing, even when his future has come to a full stop.