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Transcript

Q & A by Vikas Swarup

Setting (time, place, and atmosphere)

A MUST READ!

“There are a million people like me, packed in a two-hundred-hectare triangle of swampy urban wasteland, where we live like animals and die like insects.[..] Dharavi is not a place for the squeamish. Delhi’s Juvenile Home diminished us, but Dharavi’s grim landscape of urban squalor deadens and debases us. Its open drains teem with mosquitoes. Its stinking, excrement-lined communal latrines are full of rats, which make you think less about the smell and more about protecting your backside. Mounds of filthy garbage lie on every corner, from which rag-pickers still manage to find something useful. And at times you have to suck in your breath to squeeze through its narrow, claustrophobic alleys. But for the starving residents of Dharavi, this is home.” (Swarup, p.132)

Index

  • Introduction
  • Settings
  • Main Themes
  • Style of writing
  • Conclusion

Main theme: ABUSE

Sexual abuse: “Papa, don’t touch me! Papa, please don't touch me!” (Swarup, p.69)

Substance abuse: “Shantaram begins drinking even more and then starts throwing things. […] He would holler, and throw a pepper shaker, a glass, a glass, a plate. At his wife, his daughter, his cat.” (Swarup, p.65)

Verbal abuse: “You bloody bitch! You are the one who has brought me down in life.” (Swarup, p.65)

Abuse of authority: “He slaps me hard and the blackness lifts. Godbole is holding out the pen once again. […] ‘Sign the confession statement,’ he orders.” (Swarup, p.20)

Brief Summary

Style of writing

Through a series of exhilarating tales, Ram explains to his lawyer how episodes in his life gave him the answer to each question on the game show.

Ram takes us on an amazing review of his own life story. From the day he was found as a baby in the clothes donation box of a Delhi church. To his employment by a faded Bollywood star. To his adventure with a security-crazed Australian army colonel. To his career as an overly creative tour guide at the Taj Mahal and through his newly found heartfelt relationships.

Metaphor: “Just when I begin to feel on top of things, fate yanks the rug from under my feet.” (Swarup, p.257)

Euphemism: “Mounds of filthy garbage lie on every corner, from which rag-pickers still manage to find something useful.” (Swarup, p.132)

Simile: “I feel fingers caress my arm, my elbow, my wrist, like a blind man feeling someone’s face.” (Swarup, p.69)

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