The White Tiger

'I was born in Laxmangarh. But I haven't seen it since. Were you born there too?'

'Yes, sir. Born and raised there.'

'What's it like?'

Before I could answer, he said, 'It must be so nice.'

'Like paradise, sir.'

He looked me up and down, from head to toe, the way I had been looking at him ever since I had come to the house.

His eyes seemed full of wonder: how could two such contrasting specimens of humanity be produced by the same soil, sunlight, and water?

'Well, I want to go there today,' he said, getting up from the bed. 'I want to see my birthplace. You'll drive me.'

'Yes, sir!'

Going home! And in my uniform, driving the Stork's car, chatting up his son and daughter-in-law!

I was ready to fall at his feet and kiss them!

The Stork had wanted to come along with us, and that would really make it a grand entry for me into the village-but at the last minute he decided to stay back. In the end, it was just Mr. Ashok and Pinky Madam whom I was taking in the Honda City, out into the countryside, toward Laxmangarh.

It was the first time I was driving the two of them-Ram Persad had had the privilege until now. I still wasn't used to the Honda City, which is a moody car with a mind of its own, as I've said. I just prayed to the gods-all of them-not to let me make a mistake.

They said nothing for half an hour. Sometimes you can feel as a driver when there is tension in the car; it raises the temperature inside. The woman inside the car was very angry.

'Why are we going to this place in the middle of nowhere, Ashoky?' Her voice, breaking the silence at last.

'It's my ancestral village, Pinky. Wouldn't you like to see it? I was born there-but Father sent me away as a boy. There was some trouble with the Communist guerrillas then. I thought we could-'

'Have you decided on a return date?' she asked suddenly. 'I mean to New York.'

'No. Not yet. We'll get one soon.'

He was silent for a minute; my ears were really wide open now. If they went back to America -would they no longer need a second driver in the home?

She said nothing; but I swear, I could hear teeth gritting.

Mr. Ashok had no clue, though-he began humming a film song, until she said, 'What a fucking joke.'

'What was that?'

'You lied about returning to America, didn't you, Ashok-you're never going back, are you?'

'There's a driver in the car, Pinky-I'll explain everything later.'

'Oh, what does he matter! He's only the driver. And you're just changing the topic again!'

A lovely fragrance filled the car-and I knew that she must have moved about and adjusted her clothes.

'Why do we even need a driver? Why can't you drive, like you used to?'

'Pinky, that was New York -you can't drive in India, just look at this traffic. No one follows any rules-people run across the road like crazy-look-look at that-'

A tractor was coming down the road at full speed, belching out a nice thick plume of black diesel from its exhaust pipe.

'It's on the wrong side of the road! The driver of that tractor hasn't even noticed!'

I hadn't noticed either. Well, I suppose you are meant to drive on the left side of the road, but until then I had never known anyone to get agitated over this rule.

'And just look at the diesel it's spewing out. If I drive here, Pinky, I'll go completely mad.'

We drove along a river, and then the tar road came to an end and I took them along a bumpy track, and then through a small marketplace with three more or less identical shops, selling more or less identical items of kerosene, incense, and rice. Everyone stared at us. Some children began running alongside the car. Mr. Ashok waved at them, and tried to get Pinky Madam to do the same.

The children disappeared; we had crossed a line they could not follow us beyond. We were in the landlords' quarter.

The caretaker was waiting at the gate of the Stork's mansion; he opened the door of the car even before I had brought it to a full stop, and touched Mr. Ashok's feet.

'Little prince, you're here at last! You're here at last!'

The Wild Boar came to have lunch with Mr. Ashok and Pinky Madam-he was their uncle, after all. As soon as I saw him enter the mansion for lunch, I went to the kitchen and told the caretaker, 'I love Mr. Ashok so much you must let me serve him lunch!' The cook agreed-and I got to take my first good look at the Wild Boar in years. He was older than I remembered, and more bent over, but his teeth were exactly the same: sharp and blackened and with two distinctive hooked ones curving up by the side. They ate in the dining room-a magnificent place, with high ceilings, heavy, old-fashioned furniture all around, and a huge chandelier.

'It's a lovely old mansion,' Mr. Ashok said. 'Everything's gorgeous in here.'

'Except the chandelier-it's a bit tacky,' she said.

'Your father loves chandeliers,' the Wild Boar said. 'He wanted to put one up in the bathroom here, did you know that? I'm serious!'

When the caretaker brought out the dishes and put them on the table, Mr. Ashok looked at them and said, 'Don't you have anything vegetarian? I don't eat meat.'

'I've never heard of a landlord who was vegetarian,' the Wild Boar said. 'It's not natural. You need meat to toughen you up.' He opened his lips and showed his curved teeth.

'I don't believe in killing animals needlessly. I knew vegetarians in America, and I think they're right.'

'What crazy ideas do you boys pick up?' the old man said. 'You're a landlord. It's the Brahmins who are vegetarian, not us.'

After lunch I washed the dishes; I helped the caretaker make tea. My master was taken care of; now it was time to see my family. I went out the mansion by the back door.

Well, they had beaten me to it. My family had all come to the mansion, and they were around the Honda City, staring at it with pride, though too frightened to touch it.

Kishan raised his hand. I hadn't seen him since he left Dhanbad and came back home to work in the fields-that was three months ago. I bent down and touched his feet, and held on to them for seconds longer than needed, because I knew the moment I let go he would bugger me badly-I hadn't sent any money home for the past two months.

'Oh, so now he remembers his family at last!' he said, shaking me off his feet. 'Has he thought about us at all?'

'Forgive me, brother.'

'You've not sent any money for months. You forgot our arrangement.'

'Forgive me, forgive me.'

But they weren't really angry. For the first time I can remember, I got more attention than the water buffalo. Most lavish in her fussing, naturally, was sly old Kusum, who kept grinning at me and rubbing her forearms.

'Oh, how I used to stuff your mouth with sweets as a child,' she said, trying to squeeze my cheeks. She was too frightened of my uniform to try and touch me anywhere else.

They almost carried me on their backs to the old house, I tell you. The neighbors were waiting there to see my uniform.

I was shown the children that had been born in the family since I had left, and forced to kiss them on the forehead. My aunt Laila had had two children when I was gone. Cousin Pappu's wife, Leela, had had a child. The family was larger. The needs were more. I was chastised by all for not sending money each month.

Kusum beat her head with her fist; she wailed into the neighbors' house. 'My grandson has a job, and he still forces me to work. This is the fate of an old woman in this world.'

'Marry him off!' the neighbors yelled. 'That's the only way to tame the wild ones like him!'

'Yes,' Kusum said. 'Yes, that's a good idea.' She grinned, and rubbed her forearms. 'A very good idea.'

Kishan had a lot of news for me-and since this was the Darkness, all of it was bad news. The Great Socialist