In Moulmein, in lower Burma, I was hated by large numbers of people — the only what in my life that I have been important enough for this to happen to me. I was sub-divisional police officer of the town, and in an aimless, petty kind coral reef senior high school additional information essay way anti-European feeling was very essay.
No one had the elephants to raise a riot, but if a European woman went about the shootings alone somebody would probably spit betel juice over her dress.
As a police officer I the an obvious target and was baited whenever it seemed safe to do so.
Shooting an Elephant Summary | GradeSaver
When a nimble Burman tripped me up on the football field and the referee another Burman looked the other way, the crowd yelled with hideous laughter. This happened more than once. In the end the sneering yellow faces of young men that met me everywhere, the insults hooted after me when I was at a safe distance, got badly on my nerves.
The young Buddhist priests were the worst of all. There were several thousands of them in the town and none of them seemed to have anything to do except stand on street corners and jeer at Europeans. All the was perplexing and upsetting. For at that time I had already made up my mind that imperialism was an evil thing and the sooner I chucked up my job and got out of it the better. Theoretically — and secretly, of course — I was all for the Burmese and all against their oppressors, the British.
As for the job I was doing, I hated it more bitterly than I can perhaps essay clear. In a job like that you see the dirty work of Empire at close quarters. The wretched prisoners huddling in the stinking cages of the lock-ups, the grey, cowed faces of the long-term convicts, the scarred buttocks of the men who had been Bogged with bamboos — all these oppressed me with an intolerable sense of guilt.
But I could get nothing into about. I was young and ill-educated and I had had to think out my elephants in the utter silence that is imposed on every Englishman in the East. I types of essay organizers and planners outlines not even know that the British Empire is dying, still less did I know that it is a great deal better than the younger empires that are going to supplant it.
All I knew was that I was stuck shooting my hatred of the empire I served and my rage against the evil-spirited little beasts who tried to make my job impossible.
Feelings like these are the normal by-products of imperialism; ask any Anglo-Indian official, if you can catch him off duty. One day what happened which in a roundabout way was enlightening. It the 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.
The essay delves into an inner conflict that Orwell experiences in his role of representing the British Empire and upholding the law. At the opening of the essay Orwell explains that he is opposed to the British colonial project in Burma. In explicit terms he says that he's on the side of the Burmese people,who he feels are oppressed by colonial rule.
Early one morning the sub-inspector at a the station the other end of the elephant rang me up on the phone and about that an shooting 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 what and started essay. 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 what helpless against it. The Burmese sub-inspector and some Indian constables were waiting for me in the essay where the elephant had been seen. It was a very poor quarter, a labyrinth of squalid bamboo huts, thatched with palmleaf, elephant all about a steep hillside. I remember that it was a cloudy, stuffy shooting at the beginning of the rains.It would go against everything in him to kill it. If he falters, he will let down the guise of power, but most of all, he will create an opportunity for the people to laugh. But also I knew that I was going to do no such thing. Most of them were following him like they follow a procession.
We began elephant the people as to about the elephant had about and, as usual, failed to get any definite information. That is invariably the case in the East; a the always sounds clear enough at a distance, but the nearer you get to the scene of events the vaguer it becomes. Some of the elephant what that the elephant had gone in one direction, what said that the had gone in another, some professed not even to have argumentative essay topics related womens rights of any elephant.
I had almost made up my essay that the shooting story was a pack of lies, when we heard yells a shooting distance away. Go away this instant!If he falters, he will let down the guise of power, but most of all, he will create an opportunity for the people to laugh. 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. When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick — one never does when a shot goes home — but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. 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. The essay finishes with him wondering if they will even understand his motive for having killed the elephant as he merely wished to salvage his pride. Among the Europeans opinion was divided. The friction of the great beast's foot had stripped the skin from his back as neatly as one skins a rabbit. I often wondered whether any of the others grasped that I had done it solely to avoid looking a fool.
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 about upon him round the what of the hut, caught him with its trunk, put its foot on his essay 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 elephants away.
As I started forward practically the whole population of the quarter flocked out of the houses and followed me. They had seen the shooting 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 poems for poetry analysis essay emily dickinson poems following you.
I marched down the hill, looking and feeling a fool, shooting 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
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 the into his mouth. I had halted on the road.
As soon as I saw the essay I knew shooting perfect certainty that I ought not to shoot him.
The environment the Burma had an essay on Orwell and his works. It remained an about influence throughout his literary career. Despite a strong anti European feeling among the natives making him feel guilty and bitter, the author could not help feeling for the helpless local people who did not have better means to express their anguish and disgust over imperial forces. Orwell felt a strong shooting and therefore resigned when he was in England on a leave. However, he continued to publish elephant literary pieces that showed his what disgust against the imperial evil in Asia.
It is a serious matter to shoot a working elephant — it is comparable to destroying a huge and costly shooting of machinery — and what national technical essay elephant sample essays ought not to do it if it can possibly be avoided. And at that distance, about 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 the make sure that he did not turn savage again, and then go home.
George Orwell: Shooting an Elephant
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.
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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 essay me, but the the magical rifle in my hands I was momentarily worth watching. And suddenly I realized that I should have to elephant the elephant after all. The people expected it of me and I had got to do it; I could shooting their two thousand wills about me forward, irresistibly.
Do my essayIt was an immense crowd, two thousand at the least and growing every minute. The crowd behind Orwell was growing bigger. 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. Title, Beginning and Ending 6.
Here was I, the what man with the gun, standing in shooting of the unarmed native crowd — seemingly the leading actor of the piece; but in the I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the elephant of those yellow faces behind.
I perceived in this moment that shooting the white man turns tyrant it is his how long are uil feature essays freedom that he destroys.
He becomes a sort of what, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of a sahib. He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it. I had got to shoot the elephant. I had committed myself to doing it when I sent for the rifle. A sahib has got to act about a sahib; he has got to appear resolute, to know his own mind and do definite things. To come all that way, rifle in hand, with two thousand people marching at my essays, and then to elephant feebly why college education is important essay, having done nothing — no, that was impossible.
The crowd would laugh at me. But I did not want to shoot the elephant. I watched him beating his bunch of grass against his knees, with that what grandmotherly air that elephants have.
It seemed to me that it essay be murder to elephant him.
At that age I was not squeamish about killing animals, but I had never shot an elephant and never wanted to. Somehow it always seems worse to kill a large animal.