Life in the Big City

Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India

By Francisco Morais

June 7^th, 2015

Life

“I was looking for the key for years But the door was always open”

― Aravind Adiga, The White Tiger

WORK

“It‘s amazing. The moment you show cash, everyone knows your language.”

― Aravind Adiga, The White Tiger

Faith

“It is an ancient and venerated custom of people in my country to start a story by praying to a Higher Power. “I guess, Your Excellency, that I too 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 gods. “And we Hindus have 36,000,004 divine arses to choose from.”

― Aravind Adiga, The White Tiger

people

“Me, and thousands of others in this country like me, are half-baked, because we were never allowed to complete our schooling. Open our skulls, look in with a penlight, and you‘ll find an odd museum of ideas: sentences of history or mathematics remembered from school textbooks (no boy remembers his schooling like the one who was taken out of school, let me assure you), sentences about politics read in a newspaper while waiting for someone to come to an office, triangles and pyramids seen on the torn pages of the old geometry textbooks which every tea shop in this country uses to wrap its snacks in, bits of All India Radio news bulletins, things that drop into your mind, like lizards from the ceiling, in the half hour before falling asleep—all these ideas, half formed and half digested and half correct, mix up with other half-cooked ideas in your head, and I guess these half-formed ideas bugger one another, and make more half-formed ideas, and this is what you act on and live with.”

― Aravind Adiga, The White Tiger

Write your story here. (Optional)

“You ask ‘Are you a man or a demon?‘ Neither, I say. I have woken up, and the rest of you are sleeping, and that is the only difference between us.”

― Aravind Adiga, The White Tiger

“Go to the tea shop anywhere along the Ganga, sir, and look at the men working in that tea shop - men, I say, but better to call them human spiders that go crawling in between and under the tables with rags in their hands, crushed humans in crushed uniforms, sluggish, unshaven, in their thirties or forties or fifties but still “boys.” But that is your fate if you do your job well - with honesty, dedication, and sincerity, the way Gandhi would have done it, no doubt.”