‘I am in the Light now, but I was born and raised in the Darkness.’

In ‘The White Tiger’, Aravind Adiga explores the contrast between light and darkness and uses both in literal and metaphorical ways, giving each a different meaning and significance in the story.  He also constantly mentions chandeliers, which are physical manifestations of several themes in the story.   

From the beginning, we see that Adiga speaks through Balram and describes what Light and Darkness is.  He explains that the Light is the part of India near the coasts, and that, no matter how holy, the land around the Ganges is the Darkness, including his hometown, Laxmangarh.  However, this divide is not only down to the fact that the Ganges, 'river of death' flows through it, but also many other things such as the poverty of the people in those parts and the extreme corruption of the few rich who do live there.  An example of this is his use of animals.  This is seen multiple times in the first two chapters, such as The Animals, who were the four men who were landlords of Laxmangarh, explaining that, even Balram, a young child, was forced to leave school and break coals to pay off his family's debt to one of them.  Also, the monkeys in the Black Fort are meant to represent the government, as seen through the eyes of Balram, and no doubt the others from the Darkness.  They are the sole inhabitants of the Black Fort, a great symbol of power on a hill looming over Laxmangarh, just as the government and its foolish, monkey-like politicians tower up above the Darkness. 

In addition to this, the writer uses the themes of Light and Darkness to represent the moral aspect of India and the inner workings of Balram's mind.  He shows that as Balram progresses towards the Light, his morals become twisted and warped.  He begins to see himself as the devil, defying the Rooster Coop. However, conventional views of the devil are dark, as opposed to light.  Further emphasizing this, we see that the only way to get from the Darkness to the Light is, for Balram, to kill his master.  This is an extremely immoral decision on his part, and truly goes to show how distorted the idea of the Light and its morals are. Another such example is that in which his drunk masters run over a child, and yet he is forced into appropriating the blame by those who were in the Light.  The whole book is full of similar examples where we see the immorality of those who either are, or strive to be, in the Light, as Adiga shows that in India, there can only be so many powerful people. 

Balram is a very complex character, who could be classed as psychopathic.  He is obviously very ambitious and this means that he will do anything to have his way.  His definitions of Light and Darkness are based on power and wealth.  The only aim he has in life for the majority of the story is to leave the Darkness for good, and he does so by sacrificing others. This does, in the end, attain him reasonable wealth and power, but he is not truly happy even in the Light.  He feels some element of dissatisfaction because the death of Mr. Ashok seems, in a way, to haunt him.  Nevertheless, his chandeliers make him feel that he finally made it to the Light, and he has little to no regrets about having caused the probable death of his whole family.   

Balram has an obsession with chandeliers, since he sees them as a symbol of wealth, power and, both literally and symbolically, light.  Perhaps his most prized possession is the chandelier in his office.  The midget fan on it represents both the distorted Light he sees and the power he craves to be able to manipulate the Light and Darkness.  However, it also can be seen as a manifestation of the barrier which prevents Balram from truly being fully in the Light, since not only is it already far too small for the room, but it is also, as Pinky Madam said, 'tacky' to have a chandelier.  The whole false grandeur of the chandeliers is equivocal to the power and wealth of the well-off, both fake and wrongly accumulated.  Balram's chandelier in his bathroom is in a sense meant to show how Balram is above Ashok, since Ashok wanted one but never got it put in place, but also shows how scared he is.  He says earlier on that his only fear is of lizards and that lizards are afraid of the light.  In this case, lizards may actually represent fear in general and the fact that he has a chandelier in his bathroom is meant to make him feel safer. 

In the book as a whole, Adiga has used Light and Darkness and their contrast to represent a variety of different things, from the Indian social hierarchy to Balram's morals and how he sees the world.  Chandeliers, although perhaps not a major part of the book, play a similar role, depicting Balram's aspirations, his shortcomings and his successes.  Balram's unwillingness for selfsacrifice got him very far indeed, but, in a country with such distorted ideas of Light and Dark, it was unavoidable that he would, in the end, find himself unable to progress furthe 

The medley of noises coming from the bustling crowd floats by the butcher’s. The sausages are hanging down, yet uninterrupted by buyers: It is still the early morning.  The buyers come at noon on Sundays.  The fresh smell of bacon, pork and steak, fills the air, and a gust of wind carries it along the market path to an increasingly frantic puppy, a brown-copper sheepdog.  He barks and barrels toward the butcher’s stand, leaving his owner, who is at the fishmonger’s, in surprise.  The runaway dog crashes into several people in his enthusiasm, and disrupts several customers at other stalls in his gusto.  When he reaches the butcher’s he steals a sausage; now the ranks, which had once been intact, are broken.  The puppy runs, back to the fishmonger’s amidst many an angry shout, as he dirties his dragging chorizo on the muddy ground.

The Zoo

         The giraffe cranes its neck to peer over the miniature mound upon which sits a glum, drooping ostrich with a greyed plumage. The puma scuttles along the rocky beach, which the humans call “Puma Mountain”.  They all turned to look towards the metal doors guarding the entrance. They had been assaulted and were now open; the zookeeper stood defiant in the rising sun.

            The animals were torn with grief as he marched silently up the street and the panda moaned with despair. They knew this mood very well—the doctor was coming.  The doctor, or “Vet”, was known to give animals pungent sludge, ill-tasting pellets and worst of all, the needle.  They knew the sound of panicked pups or squealing kits, receiving the needle. Most of them have been forced under its painful power.

            Soon comes “Vet” with his blue, buttoned shirt and facial hair comparable to that of a monkey. He is an animal in his own right. His neck is slightly hunched and he too can be wild. His case emits a sloshing as the slush or other poisonous liquid is shaken as he stomps down the alleyway in front of the desperate tigers.  The parrots are squawking and the screeching of monkeys fills the air.  However, their racket is to serve no purpose, as the doctor is only here to see the polar bear that is sizzling in the summer sun.

            The animals all droop their shoulders as if sighing from relief, except the poor polar bear, confined to a deep azure tainted ice cave, as a last resort to escape the heat. His groans are too faint to be heard and the doctor must get to work soon or face a dead polar bear.

‘The sea will always win, despite the actions of people.’ How far do you agree with this view of coastal protection?

(Westminster 2009)

            The small island of Japan has seen several terrible tsunamis in the past twenty years. This includes one that moved the country 3 meters closer to China, and knocked the Earth out of its usual orbit for a day.  This all occurred despite a forty meter high seawall protecting the coast of Tokyo.  In this case, the sea defeated the Japanese governments greatest effort, but will this always be the case?

            On the one hand, the sea can always erode any seawall or blockade we place in its way.  It can, after many long centuries, even wear its way through the thickest of seawalls. Even rivers can overcome dredging after a long time. The Thames could actually overcome its embankments in a century. If a mere river, with minimal wave power, can overcome a multibillionaire defense, then the sea has much greater potential.  It has the power of abrasion, attrition, corrosion and hydraulic action as well as the tide.

            Furthermore, the sea will remain where it is for much longer than any seawall can stand. For all geographers can tell us, the sea and oceans may not change general position for another million years. Even if we were to build a seawall that could withstand erosion, it would be weathered away by other processes, including plant growth or acid rain.  Thus, even with minimal wave power, the sea could potentially get past even the thickest of barriers.

            However, it is entirely plausible that humans may be able to devise a way of blockading the sea efficiently and effectively.  For example, groynes tend to be located along beaches to prevent an excess of longshore drift so that the beach remains. Also, another form of protection is boulder armor.  This is very effective against small waves but not so much against a tsunami.

            On balance, it seems to be the case that the sea will always win, as it can overcome any seawall ever built, but it is still possible that humans will find a new form of coastal protection from the sea.