The White Tiger. Done.

I didn't think twice about picking another book and started reading it. After contemplating about starting with it for a few weeks now, I really thought that I was ready for it. It was a thick book, that's the reason why I [even] tweeted about it; like, am I ready for this book?

So, I started.

But the introduction alone took about fifty or more pages. It, alone, started to bore me. I started to get confused about the characters of that book and those others that were written by the author. I am not saying it's not good though. It's just that I just didn't feel the need to even go through the introduction. But, I persevered. After a few days, I was done with it.

The first chapter of the book.

I read several pages then stopped. The characters are confusing as well as the plot and the setting. Yet, they're saying that this is one of the best books of all times. I think I'm just not ready for it. I just can't see the point of reading that book... at least for now.

One Chance... The Last

Here is 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 know his faetus, but you know his corpse. Only you can complete the story of his life.

Considering how poor they were, Balram wanted a change. He wanted his life to be better. He wanted to be an entrepreneur; and he became an entrepreneur.

How, how I wanted to write about what he did… what he did to become one, because this would be my last post about the book.

I don’t know whether to justify or crucify him for what he did to change his life. He was a poor man. He just didn’t drive; he became a driver. He cleaned his master’s feet. He cooked his master’s meals. He was made to confess a crime he didn’t commit. He saw what it was like to be rich and not like to live that kind of life. He felt how it was like to eat in cozy restaurants but crave for street foods. He knows how a bag with a million rupees inside it looks like. He witnessed crimes committed bloodless within the four walls of the parliament. He know how it felt to drive a Honda City. He saw an opportunity.

After all, his granny said he was a white tiger. Only one chance to have for every generation. And he only had one chance, and maybe the last.

Wouldn’t you have done the same if you were the white tiger that your granny says you are?

Beauty

Truth to be told, I finished this book several days ago. One or two days short of a week maybe. But I feel like there is a lot that I wanted to talk about the book.

They remain slaves because they can't see what's beautiful in this world.

Aravind quoted Iqbal.

I don't know whether to believe this though. About a week or more ago, I read about Filipinos being treated as slaves in a nursing home that was raided by the authorities in the States. These people were allegedly convinced that they will have a decent job in the States if they pay something like $8,000 for the processing of their visas. After getting there, these people were made to work almost 24 hours a day with very low or no pay at all.

So, does this mean that they remain slaves because they can't see the beauty in this world? They were forced into it. Not like in the story, it's their caste that made them slaves. It's like it was their destiny to be where they were supposed to be. Balram was born to sweet makers and that is his caste, and that is his fate. But as his grandmother told him, he is a white tiger. So, maybe Balram was able to see the beauty in this world, that's why he fought. He fought to change his fate. He fought to change his destiny. And he succeeded. He became an entrepreneur.

In that nursing home, I think those people will now see the beauty in this world. The home was raided and they were freed. Like Balram, they can now work their way out of their fate. I wouldn't say it's destiny though. Because they weren't destined to be slaves in that home.

Drive

Halwai. Balram came from this caste family of sweet-makers, but he wanted to become a driver. So, after working at a tea shop with his brother, Kishan, he decided to learn to drive. For three hundred rupees from his granny Kunna, and a promise of sending money from his wages once hired, he learned. But the taxi driver told him:

"It's not enough to drive. You've got to become a driver."

And he did become a driver. For a family who was also from their town.

Not only did he do tasks as a driver. He massages their feet, bathes their dog, cleans the house, sweeps the floor, everything that he can do when he’s not driving.

I think half of Balram was spent being a driver. Although at about ten years old, when the school principal went to his class for inspection, he was told that he is a white tiger. That he is different from the rest. He can get a future if only he try. But we try, don’t we? Then we need opportunity. How many of us gets the opportunity? And when opportunity is there, how many of us see it? How many of us let it pass?

Balram’s life as a servant hasn’t change. I am past half of the book and still he was a driver. Although at the time of writing the narrative, he was already an entreprenuer.

I want to find out what drove him to become one… how he drove himself to become one. How he drove to get to that road that a miserly servant like him from a miserable village seldom have the rare opportunity to be on.

The White Tiger

The next day I went to the bank - the one that had a wall made of glass. I saw myself reflected in the glass panes - all in khaki. I walked back and forth in front of the bank a dozen times, just gaping at myself.

If only they had given me a silver whistle, I would have been in paradise!

Kishan came once a month to see me.

Tom's There

Nearing the end of Huck Finn's adventure, I was surprised that Tom Sawyer was part of the story.  Yeah, i know that they were friends.  He was actually in the first part, too, when they were planning to rob and do some things on people.

I actually wrote about Tom's influence on Huck's decisions and it became even more evident when they were together and had to decide on things.  I think that most of the time, Huck's decisions were wiser than Tom's, but just the same, it was Tom's that prevailed for the simple reason that Huck believed Tom knows everything.

The twist at the end was really unique though.  It was really unpredictable.  I should say that one thing that I sort of didn't like about the story was how it evolved on a pack of untruths (if there is such a word).  Come to think of it, the journey or adventure of Huckleberry Finn started with faking his own death.  One untrue story after another after another after another.

I guess this is the only way the adventures could be put together in one story.  And I believe that it's the only way to make the story work.  But it really takes a good imagination and an excellent creativity and an amazing talent to piece them all together.

THE END

THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN

MARK TWAIN

The Island

If not for the adventure and fun of it, I would have stopped a few days ago.  I am having a hard time reading through words that are spelled like slang.  There was a notice at the beginning of the book though.  Although reading it was an entirely different experience.  I have a taste of this with "Little Women" by Loisa May Alcott.  But that one was only for a few pages.  There are things like how more is spelled mo', once is wunst, poor is po', going is gwyne, took is tuck, them is um, nothing is nuffin', first is fust (also posted here).

Like this (also posted here):

Chickens know when it's gwyne to rain, en so do de birds, chile.

Here, I think I'd have to bear with it since Jim was the one who's speaking that way and he's Huck's company thru his adventures.  I wonder if he'd be dropped from the scene soon?  But I think dropping him would be a little boring for Huck... and the story, too.

Anyway, right now, Huck decided to go to the island where he accidentally found Jim and they became companions.  I think due to his youth, he still doesn't realize the consequences of his decisions.  He was so influenced by his friend Tom Sawyer who he left in town.  Most of the time, in his decisions, he still thinks what would Tom Sawyer do on situations he encountered.

Jim is a good company for Huck.  Jim reminds Huck.  Jim is a little superstitious, but I think that's good in situations like where they are now.

Huck Finn

I landed, and slopped through the timber and up the ridge and into the cavern.  There, Jim laid, sound asleep on the ground.  I roused him out and says:
" Get up and hump yourself, Jim! There ain't a minute to lose.  They're after us!"

In a Hurry

So that's what happened with Rose Madder.

I wanted to finish the book soon.  Not because I wanted to know the ending but, sorry to say, just so that I can get over and done with it and start a new book.  You might ask, "Is it that worse?"  And I shall tell you, "Yes, so far the worse of those I read by Stephen King."

The plot was good.  There were actually instances that I am so engaged to reading that I am confusing to reality.  The concept of a wife like Rose is truly something that is worth writing for.  The idea of redemption was unique.  I actually thought that it should be how everything should be, after being left with no choices.  How real can it get?  That is the question.  But still, I think there is something that was overdone here.  Like the detailed thoughts of Norman.  I think SK overdid it here.

The irony of it all is that is one thing I actually admire with Stephen King; the way he writes about the characters' imagination.  I'm just not sure why it seems that it doesn't apply here in this particular story.  I am close to thinking that I maybe longing for another kind of adventure or writer that I now view it in a different color.  I started exploring different writers and genres, I am even into classical novels.  I just don't know if this is one of the main reason why I think this way.  It's almost to say that I didn't enjoy the book because I was yearning so much to know the ending just so that I can start a new one.  I might have missed some adventures worth ruminating on because of this.  But I don't have any regrets.  The end wasn't what I expected, although I am giving it the thought that in this kind of situation - if I am in this situation -  this might be the one I can actually wish for.

THE END

ROSE MADDER

STEPHEN KING

I Repay

That's what she said.

And that's all what Rosie can remember, at least for now.  She was in a dream she can barely remember.  But a lot of things spring up telling her it may not be a dream at all.

Dreaming?

Too tired from two days of going out, I still managed to read a few pages of the book.  Rosie's on her conquest.  A different kind of quest.  I said on my previous post that this will take her out of the past and might change her future, I have yet to know.  But the thing is, she's either in a dream or she's dreaming of something real.  Again, I have yet to find out.  But it was hard.  Too hard.  This is a world far different from where she is now.  But wait, way too different from the world she lived in for fourteen years.

I think she will...   No, I pray[as if this is real] that she may get out of this not only alive, but be able to change everything in her life that she's been wanting to change.  Rosie's been through a lot and if I were in her shoes, it won't matter to me if this is a dream or living a dream.  I want to get this over and done with if it means that I will be able to live on my own, free and easy.  That I may be able to get a new haircut, read a novel (no matter what kind) and have a beautiful painting on the wall... that makes her hear crickets and see clovers.

I wouldn't really mind.... Hell, No!

Quests

This is the third time that I have read something on SK's books that deal with temples.    As far as I can remember, that is.  Last year, I read about three books by Stephen King and two of them had scenes on temples.

'Salem's Lot.

Duma Key.

Now, Rose Madder.  It's not that there is a pattern.  It's just that I am just awed by how SK uses this place as a start of the quests of the characters.  Sometimes, it even poses as a transformation place for these persons because it's as if they realize something as they pass through the temples of their stories.
You might think that there will be a similarity to these stories.  But no, there aren't.  Three very different stories.  One icon to deliver the message.

===============

I am now on the part where Rose is somewhere within something she doesn't know.  Like her, I am still trying to figure out whether it was just a dream, a reality or a part of the painting.  All of them seemed real, and if it were, then this has something to do with her quest to forget her past and change her future.

Inside

I stopped reading the book for a few days now.  I have been busy with a lot of things and the only time that I get to read it is during late afternoons when there is enough sunlight from the window near where I sit and do reading.  But having stopped reading doesn't mean that my mind was off the book.  I am actually thinking about it a lot oftentimes.  Like it sometimes just pops out of my mind.

Rose was able to get away.  Far.  About three hundred miles.  I kept on asking is it far enough?  How far is far enough?  Daniels is maybe three hundred miles away, but it only takes one snap and the memory will start everything again.  I sometimes feel afraid for Rose.  And even if I still have a lot to know what are those that she's been into during those fourteen years, I cannot help but imagine more things other than already told.

This happens.  To how many I don't know.  But sometimes it gives me the creeps just thinking about Rose; what more if I will know more, like give me a figure to give me an idea how much women are went through, are going through, and will go through what Rose has been through.

Is there anything we women can do to prevent this from happening?  How do we know that some guys are really prone to doing this?

Frankly, this is nothing new for Stephen King.  I have read "Dolores Claiborne" and I think it was really very creative.  As I read through the first few pages, I was thinking that this is another "Dolores."  I almost put it down thinking that I've read this kind of stuff already.  But then again, we know Stephen King... we don't know what is he still capable of thinking.  That's why I have always like reading his works.

But.

Having read a few classical stories like Dickens, Hugo, Fitzgerald, Eliot, I think I am missing the genre.  The fact that what I read before this was about the German/Hitler times, I think I'll grab another classical after King.

Rose

That's a point of pride with us.  And you'll eventually pay for your room and board, although we like to think the prices here are very reasonable.  She smiled that brief, preening smile again.  "You should be aware that the accommodations are a long way from fancy.  Most of the second floor has been turned into a dormitory.

How many women are like Rose?

This is the question that came up in my mind as I started reading the book, as I started reading about Rose.

She couldn't get out.  The worse part is she didn't want to get out.  Out of the house that she knew very well, out of the life that she's been living for the past fourteen years.  Her reason is simple.  But is this the same reason they all have?

All the women like her?

Fear Is a Strange Thing

She would rather be the one who was persecuted than the one who did the persecuting.  Both had a terrible price to pay, but she would rather endure the humiliation and fear than grow numb to what it was to be human.

Fear is a strange thing.  It strips off masks… In some people it brings out the lowest instincts, while others become more compassionate.  Both have to do with survival.  But the choice is ours.

Your friend whom you will trust with your life suddenly becomes a stranger.  You start doubting whether just a simple thing you say will be used against you.

Trudi lives through these times.  Actually, at some points, I even forget all about Trudi.  Consumed by what is happening around her, I often forget about Trudi's condition.  I often forget about Trudi's problems, her hopes, her fears, her dreams.  But then again, how can you hope?  How can you dream?  When all you have to worry about is the fear.  The fear for your life, the fear for your friends, and the fear of the war and what it was doing to all of them, to their town, to their country.

But even so….

She felt dizzy longing for peace, a longing as powerful as the passion with which she used to will her body would grow as consuming as the passion that had fueled her revenge on the boys who'd humiliated her.  And what she wanted more than anything that moment was for all the differences between people to matter no more - differences in size and race and belief - differences that had become justification for destruction.

Goodness? Goodness!

I was surfing the tv last night during prime time and not a thing caught my interest... until the animated Disney version of "The Hunchback of Notre Dame."

I think I mentioned when I was reading this book about two months ago that I am kind of intrigued as to how this kind of story will be made into a movie by Disney Pictures.  And I was glad that I saw it yesterday.  So, I tuned in and started to watch.  The part that I came upon was when Quasimodo and Esmeralda were talking and later on, Quasimodo took Esmeralda to a 'trip' around Notre Dame.  More later,  one of the men [didn't know who] was almost begging Quasimodo to let him down.

Quasimodo and Esmeralda talking and taking a trip around Paris?  How can they talk in the first place?  How can Quasimodo understand Esmeralda?

As I read through the last parts of the story in the book, the thought of this being a Disney movie always come upon me.   How can you make an ending to such a story?  And how can you turn it into an animated movie having such a plot, such an ending?

I didn't finish the movie.  All because I know that it would be totally different from the original story.  All I know is that they tried to circle the story around the goodness of Quasimodo; whitewashing everything to make it look good on the eyes of child; on the eyes of those who haven't read the story.  But if they wanted something to bank on the goodness of Quasimodo, I think they could come up with someone else in the likeness of Quasimodo with their army of artistic imaginative people.

Goodness!

No One

At this point in her life, Trudi is starting to realize the good things of her being different.

One thing is that she can decide to be something that was not allowed to girls her age.  She is starting to feel that, after all, being not the same as everyone else will put her in situations that she's not required to because she's different.

But still, there is something that she wanted to do so badly.  Something inside her that desires more than the conveniences of being different.

At some points in reading the story, I could almost feel for Trudi.  And there are some points that it feels like I have had enough of everything that has been happening to her.  Every pain, every sacrifice, every lost friend, lost love.  But the will to go on reading is stronger.  I want her to realize that there is more to life than being different, that there is more to life than being normal, and, that there is more to life than being how everybody is supposed to be.

I look forward to the time to see Trudi triumphed against all that she dreaded; against all the pain she felt.  I look forward to seeing Trudi see what else is there for her and not what she's been looking for all the time.  I'd love to see her see the other side of her that is waiting to be acknowledged, recognized and reinvented.

I want Trudi to know what Pia meant when she said:

"No one but you can change that."

As if I can change her fate.

As if I can turn her life around as I turn the pages.

Violated

Her secret place was hers only.  There, she can do what she wanted, she can be what she wanted to be, learn things she ought to know, think calmly.  There, she is the normal person that she is, that she always thinks she is.  But this is just a secret to herself.  A secret that only happens in her own secret world.

On that day that her secret place was violated, she should have listened to that mist of cloud that she saw as a bad sign.  But we people always choose to learn the hard way.  She went on until the four boys decided to go for a game they call water fart.

Trudi thought that hiding behind the big rock would give her the chance to know their secrets that these four boys might be keeping in her secret place.  But she was wrong.  Instead, they found her and then it was her turn.  Small as she is, she does not have the strength of even one of them.  Overpowered, obviously, she couldn't do anything.

They took her away from her secret world.  Inside the barn of one of these boys, they began to touch her, violate her.  Touch her in a way that was even worse than what normally happens to normal people - normal women.  You wouldn't believe it, but how Trudi wished they did touch her the way they would touch a normal girl.  That way she would have been just like any other normal victims.  The way normal women get violated.

All of them did except Georg.  Yes, her friend Georg was one of them.  Although he did not touch her, he didn't do anything to stop them from violating Trudi.  Because if he did so, that would not be normal.  He would not be normal; thus, he would not fit in.

After all these, she went back to her secret place - her secret world.  The place that was witness to what was bound to happen.  There, she threw four stones.  One for each boy who did this to her.  She vowed to take revenge, and I think she couldn't care less how long it took.

Between The Lines:

In real life, she knew it was not that easy to tell whether the villains were, and even if you could identify them, they were not total villains.  No one was entirely all of one thing.  Cowards could be courageous in some matters, and love was not always declared and might not be pure love, but mixed in with hate and fear and powerful wish for revenge - like what she felt for Georg Weiler, who went to great efforts not to glance in her direction, even if both of them stood in front of their houses.

On Being a Freak

If you lost something you'd once had - a limb, say, or an eye  - people didn't treat you like a freak; they remembered you the way you had been.  But if you were born without arms or sight, you were a freak.  If your body didn't look like the bodies of others, you were a freak. And if you lived in a freak's body long enough, though you didn't feel like a freak inside - what could you do than to make sure your body wouldn't turn all of you into a freak?

Just Like Them

She stopped wherever other kids played hopscotch or ball, wishing they'd understand that, inside she was just like them.