Why is orwell hated by large numbers of people

It was therefore out of pressure for social honor since he says a sahib has got to act like a sahib. At fi Purchase document to see full attachment. Tags literature writing skills George Orwell. Honor Code. Can't find what you are looking for? Post your question on Studypool and get help from one of our expert tutors in topics ranging from mathematics to rocket science! Similar Documents. Library Research Report. I will explain everything and provide an example to help you.

If you have any questions after reading this, just se It was all a dream, I used to read I let my tape rock 'til my tape popped With all of this, from the start of this, School Shootings. Info Tech Global Economy. The recent developments in simulation and modelling and the latest explosive advancements in social media, data, computati What percentage of your working day is involved in communication?

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Read s of rich book guides covering popular titles. It was a tiny incident in itself, but it gave me a better glimpse than I had had before of the real nature of imperialism — the real motives for which despotic governments act. Early one morning the sub-inspector at a police station the other end of the town rang me up on the phone and said that an elephant was ravaging the bazaar. Would I please come and do something about it? I did not know what I could do, but I wanted to see what was happening and I got on to a pony and started out.

I took my rifle, an old 44 Winchester and much too small to kill an elephant, but I thought the noise might be useful in terrorem. The Burmese population had no weapons and were quite helpless against it. The Burmese sub-inspector and some Indian constables were waiting for me in the quarter where the elephant had been seen. It was a very poor quarter, a labyrinth of squalid bamboo huts, thatched with palmleaf, winding all over a steep hillside.

I remember that it was a cloudy, stuffy morning at the beginning of the rains. We began questioning the people as to where the elephant had gone and, as usual, failed to get any definite information. That is invariably the case in the East; a story always sounds clear enough at a distance, but the nearer you get to the scene of events the vaguer it becomes.

Some of the people said that the elephant had gone in one direction, some said that he had gone in another, some professed not even to have heard of any elephant. I had almost made up my mind that the whole story was a pack of lies, when we heard yells a little distance away. Go away this instant! Some more women followed, clicking their tongues and exclaiming; evidently there was something that the children ought not to have seen.

He was an Indian, a black Dravidian coolie, almost naked, and he could not have been dead many minutes. The people said that the elephant had come suddenly upon him round the corner of the hut, caught him with its trunk, put its foot on his back and ground him into the earth.

This was the rainy season and the ground was soft, and his face had scored a trench a foot deep and a couple of yards long. He was lying on his belly with arms crucified and head sharply twisted to one side.

His face was coated with mud, the eyes wide open, the teeth bared and grinning with an expression of unendurable agony. Never tell me, by the way, that the dead look peaceful. Most of the corpses I have seen looked devilish. I had already sent back the pony, not wanting it to go mad with fright and throw me if it smelt the elephant. The orderly came back in a few minutes with a rifle and five cartridges, and meanwhile some Burmans had arrived and told us that the elephant was in the paddy fields below, only a few hundred yards away.

As I started forward practically the whole population of the quarter flocked out of the houses and followed me. They had seen the rifle and were all shouting excitedly that I was going to shoot the elephant. They had not shown much interest in the elephant when he was merely ravaging their homes, but it was different now that he was going to be shot. It was a bit of fun to them, as it would be to an English crowd; besides they wanted the meat.

It made me vaguely uneasy. I had no intention of shooting the elephant — I had merely sent for the rifle to defend myself if necessary — and it is always unnerving to have a crowd following you. I marched down the hill, looking and feeling a fool, with the rifle over my shoulder and an ever-growing army of people jostling at my heels. At the bottom, when you got away from the huts, there was a metalled road and beyond that a miry waste of paddy fields a thousand yards across, not yet ploughed but soggy from the first rains and dotted with coarse grass.

The elephant was standing eight yards from the road, his left side towards us. He was tearing up bunches of grass, beating them against his knees to clean them and stuffing them into his mouth. I had halted on the road. As soon as I saw the elephant I knew with perfect certainty that I ought not to shoot him. It is a serious matter to shoot a working elephant — it is comparable to destroying a huge and costly piece of machinery — and obviously one ought not to do it if it can possibly be avoided.

And at that distance, peacefully eating, the elephant looked no more dangerous than a cow. Moreover, I did not in the least want to shoot him. I decided that I would watch him for a little while to make sure that he did not turn savage again, and then go home. But at that moment I glanced round at the crowd that had followed me. It was an immense crowd, two thousand at the least and growing every minute.

It blocked the road for a long distance on either side. I looked at the sea of yellow faces above the garish clothes-faces all happy and excited over this bit of fun, all certain that the elephant was going to be shot. They were watching me as they would watch a conjurer about to perform a trick. They did not like me, but with the magical rifle in my hands I was momentarily worth watching.

And suddenly I realized that I should have to shoot the elephant after all. The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward, irresistibly. Here was I, the white man with his gun, standing in front of the unarmed native crowd — seemingly the leading actor of the piece; but in reality I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those yellow faces behind.

I perceived in this moment that when the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys. I kept asking myself these questions, but I didn't want to know the answers. All the confidence that I had built up before that day had diminished and I was left with dread. I tried to reassure myself that it was just a summer job and that I would never have to go through it again, but my anxiety had.

Journal Entry 2: "Shooting An Elephant" 1. Why is Orwell "hated by large numbers of people in Burma"? Why does he have mixed feelings toward the Burmese people? Orwell is "hated by large numbers of people in Burma" because, he was an English officer that worked for the British empire and the Burmese did not like the British because they had taken their country away from them. He has mixed feelings towards the Burmese people because he understood that imperialism was an evil thing, and he understood why the Burmese would act the way they would towards the British.

At the same time, he would have a hateful feeling towards them because they would embarrass him, they would insult him whenever they had a chance, and this would make his job. Get Access.