A Fine Balance (Oprah's Book Club) by Rohinton Mistry
By Rohinton Mistry
With a compassionate realism and narrative sweep that remember the paintings of Charles Dickens, this great novel captures the entire cruelty and corruption, dignity and heroism, of India. The time is 1975. where is an unnamed urban by means of the ocean. the govt has simply declared a kingdom of Emergency, in whose upheavals 4 strangers--a lively widow, a tender scholar uprooted from his idyllic hill station, and tailors who've fled the caste violence in their local village--will be thrust jointly, pressured to percentage one cramped condominium and an doubtful destiny. because the characters circulate from mistrust to friendship and from friendship to like, a very good stability creates an everlasting landscape of the human spirit in an inhuman country.
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Additional resources for A Fine Balance (Oprah's Book Club)
Do you think that the largo—oh, excuse me, excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment, soon as I say hello to Mr. Medhora over there,” and he was off. Rustom smiled at Dina and shook his head in mock despair. The bell rang and the auditorium doors opened. The two tall sisters hastened to the first row with synchronized hopping steps, unfolded the maroon-upholstered seats, and flopped down triumphantly, beaming at each other for once again winning their secret game of musical chairs. Dina took her usual centre aisle seat, roughly midway down the hall.
It would be safer to seem submissive, to douse his anger. She turned away and started to cry, her hands over her face. Satisfied, he left. Her school satchel, lying on her bed, drew his attention. He opened it for a random inspection and found the plaits sitting on top. Dangling one between thumb and forefinger, he gritted his teeth before a smile slowly eased his angry features. When Dina had finished her bath, he fetched a roll of black electrical tape and fastened the plaits to her hair. “You will wear them like this,” he said.
She was standing naked on the tiles now, but he did not leave. “I need hot water,” she said. He stepped back and flung a mugful of cold water at her from the bucket. Shivering, she stared defiantly at him, her nipples stiffening. He pinched one, hard, and she flinched. “Look at you with your little breasts starting to grow. You think you are a woman already. ” He was eyeing her strangely, and she grew afraid. She understood that her sharp answers were enraging him, that it was vaguely linked to the way he was staring at the newfledged bloom of hair where her legs met.