He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. But also I knew that I was going to do no such thing. One day something happened which in a roundabout way was enlightening. Feelings like these are the normal by-products of imperialism; ask any Anglo-Indian official, if you can catch him off duty. Cloudflare Ray ID: 5f1b3ebaad35ee50 The narrator (as was Orwell himself) is a British policeman who investigates the case of the elephant who went mad on the local bazaar. Besides, legally I had done the right thing, for a mad elephant has to be killed, like a mad dog, if its owner fails to control it. 46. Now-a-days, essays and paragraphs writing are more common strategy followed by the teachers in the schools and colleges in order to enhance student’s skill and knowledge about any subject. Shooting an Elephant. London WC1E 6BT, We use cookies. For at that moment, with the crowd watching me, I was not afraid in the ordinary sense, as I would have been if I had been alone. Persuasion is an inescapable fact of communication. 4. 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. The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could feel their two thousand wills pressing me forward, irresistibly. The short story “Shooting an Elephant” written by George Orwell shows the readers the oppressed country of Burma that is a colony of the British Empire. Many people in Asgard dislike Loki.3. Go away this instant!” and an old woman with a switch in her hand came round the corner of a hut, violently shooing away a crowd of naked children. This material is available only on Freebooksummary, We use cookies to give you the best experience possible. The abyss between the overall level of education, infrastructure and comfort that is usual for the average British and the average Burman just enhances this attitude, solidifying the image of the natural difference between the white and Indian people. 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. I ought, therefore, as the elephant was sideways on, to have aimed straight at his ear-hole, actually I aimed several inches in front of this, thinking the brain would be further forward. I had committed myself to doing it when I sent for the rifle. This honesty and bravery deserves to be most appreciated. No one had the guts to raise a riot, but if a European woman went through the bazaars alone somebody would probably spit betel juice over her dress. 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. Here we can see not only the obvious ironic meaning – we expect the police to protect the interests of the local, but we see these interests violated and everyone is fine with it, because it’s just an Indian – but also the meta irony in the world outside the story setting. The dam has become something of a white elephant. As for the job I was doing, I hated it more bitterly than I can perhaps make clear. I turned to some experienced-looking Burmans who had been there when we arrived, and asked them how the elephant had been behaving.