A Tiger for Malgudi (Penguin Twentieth-Century Classics) by R. K. Narayan

By R. K. Narayan

A venerable tiger, outdated and toothless now, seems again over his lifestyles from cubhood and early days roaming wild within the Indian jungle. Trapped right into a depressing circus profession as 'Raja the magnificent', he's then offered into movies (co-starring with a beefy Tarzan in a leopard pores and skin) till, discovering the human global too brutish and bewildering, he makes a dramatic bid for freedom.

R.K. Narayan's tale combines Hindu mysticism with ripe Malgudi comedy, viewing human absurdities during the eyes of a wild animal and revealing how, rather without warning, Raja reveals candy companionship and peace.

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Sample text

On n’entend plus les gémissements. – Femme, as-tu fini ton travail ? – Il me manque quelques points à cette chemise, quoique nous ayons prolongé la veillée bien tard. – Moi, aussi, je n’ai pas fini un chapitre commencé. Profitons des dernières lueurs de la lampe ; car, il n’y a presque plus d’huile, et achevons chacun notre travail... L’enfant s’est écrié : – Si Dieu nous laisse vivre ! – Ange radieux, viens à moi ; tu te promèneras dans la prairie, du matin jusqu’au soir ; tu ne travailleras point.

Quoique nous entendions ces cris, néanmoins, celui qui les pousse n’est pas près d’ici ; car, on peut entendre ces gémissements à trois lieues de distance, transportés par le vent d’une cité à une autre. On m’avait souvent parlé de ce phénomène ; mais, je n’avais jamais eu l’occasion de juger par moi-même de sa véracité. Femme, tu me parlais de malheur ; si malheur plus réel exista dans la longue spirale du temps, c’est le malheur de celui qui trouble maintenant le sommeil de ses semblables... 55 J’entends dans le lointain des cris prolongés de la douleur la plus poignante.

La fin de cette veillée ne se passera pas sans que quelque événement funeste nous plonge tous les trois dans le lac du désespoir ! 54 J’entends dans le lointain des cris prolongés de la douleur la plus poignante. – Mon fils ! – Ah ! mère !... j’ai peur ! – Dis-moi vite si tu souffres. – Mère, je ne souffre pas... Je ne dis pas la vérité. Le père ne revient pas de son étonnement : – Voilà des cris que l’on entend quelquefois, dans le silence des nuits sans étoiles. Quoique nous entendions ces cris, néanmoins, celui qui les pousse n’est pas près d’ici ; car, on peut entendre ces gémissements à trois lieues de distance, transportés par le vent d’une cité à une autre.

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