What a fucking joke!

Books Jan 24, 2011

I got my hands on ” The white tiger” by Aravind Adiga” this weekend (yes! I have retired from partying), and this has been the most hilarious book I have read. Yes thats the kind of humor I like, pardon me. The title of the blog post again is “what a fucking joke” is a punch line which is used again and again in the book by the protagonist. 

Here are few excerpts from the book, I am typing below, if you dig it, go and get a copy of Aravind Adiga ” The White tiger” 

The entire book is actually a imaginary letter 

Page 1

For the desk of 

His Excellency Wen Jiabao

The Premier Office 

Beijing,

Capital of the Freedom- Loving Nation of China

From the desk of 

“The White Tiger”

And an entrprenuer

Living in the world’s centre of technology and outsourcing

Electronics City Phase 1 (just off Hosur Main Road),

Bangalore, India

Page 8

I guess, Your Excellency, That i should start off by kissing some god’s arse.

Which god’s arse though? There are so many choices.

See the Muslims have one god.

The Christians have three god’s.

And we Hindus have 36,000,000 god’s.

Making a grand total of 36,000,004 divine arses for me to choose from.

Page 40

A great poet, this fellow Iqbal- even if he was a Muslim.

(By the way, Mr. premier: have you noticed that all four of the greatest poets in the world are Muslims? And yet a; the Muslims you meet are illiterate or covered head to toe in black burkas or looking for a buildiings to blow up? It’s a puzzle, isnt it? If you figure these people out, send me an email.)

Page 95

I gather you yellow-skinned men, depite your triumps in sewage, drinking water, and Olympic gold medals, still dont have democracy. Some politician on the radio was saying that’s why we Indians are going to beat you:  we may not have the sewage, drinking water, and Olympic gold medals, but we do have democracy.

If I were making a democracy, i’d get the sewage pipes first, then the democracy, then I would go about giving pamplets and statues of Gandhi to the other people, but what do I know? 

Page 98

Like eunuchs discussing the Kama Sutra, the voters discuss the elections in Laxmangarh.

Page 119

Every road in Delhi has a name, like Aurangzeb raod or Humayun raod, or Archibishop Makarios raod. And no one, masters or servants , knows the name of the road. You ask someone , “Where’s Nikolai Copernicus Marg?’ 

And he could be living his whole life , and he’ll open his mouth and say, “Hanh?”

Or he’ll say, “straight ahead, then turn left, even though he has no idea. 

Page 125 

Just beacuse driver and cooks in Delhi are reading Murder Weekly, it doesnt mean that they are all about to slit their master’s necks. Of course they would like to. Of course, a billion servants are secretly fantasizing about strangling thier bosses – and that’s why the government of India publishes this magazine and sells it on the streets for just four and half rupees so that even the poor can buy it. You see the murderer in the magazine is so mentally disturbed and sexually deranged that not one reader would want to be like him.

Page 128

“what about her, country mouse?  You like her?

I blushed. “tell me.’ I said , “dont the women in cities- like her- have hair in their armpits and on their legs like the women in our villages?”

You got to try this book, I find it fucking hilarious,(if you don’t find the above excerpts funny, please write to me, and i will recommend a good doctor) it shows India for what it is, no India rising or shining! 

 

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