Tuesday, July 20, 2010

He is of a higher caste than me, but he is poor. What does this thing mean, then, caste? Is it just a fable for old men like him? If you said to yourself, "Caste is a fiction," would if vanish like smoke; if you said, "I am free," would you realise you had always been free?

*

He vaguely sensed that he was being offered something to eat. He sniffed; it reeked of castor oil and shit, and he rejected it. He smelled garbage around him, and turned his head toward the sky; his eyes were full of the stars when they closed.

*

Gururaj looked at the editor-in-chief with new eyes. It was as if the old man had a nimbus around him, of all the things he had learned over his career and could never publish; this secret knowledge glowed around his head like the halo around the nearly full moon. This is the fate of every journalist in this town and in this state and in this country and maybe in this whole world, thought Gururaj,


-From Between the Assassinations by Aravind Adiga.

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