Analysis Of Burmese Days

Burmese Days

In George Orwell's Burmese Days the main character is Flory, who feels very lonely and self-loathing of being trapped, like a dog, as he was timber merchant and did not have that much work to do in the great British-ruled India. From his very sad life, Flory makes two desperate attempts to defy and possibly escape his helplessness. His Indian friend, Dr Verswami, is being defamed by a Burmese magistrate and Flory resolves to protect him by gaining him membership to the all-British Club. Secondly, taken by beauty of young Elizabeth Lackersteen Mr.& Mrs.Lackersteen's niece , newly arrived in the country, Flory loved her to and wanted her to be his wife. In both ventures, Flory faces the opposition of his biased Britishers.

The population was about four thousand, including a couple of hundred Indian , a few Chinese and seven Europeans. There were a people in this country called the Palaungs who admired long necks in women. The girls wear broad brass rings to stretch their necks, and they put on more and more of them until in the end they have necks like giraffes. Small Burma stations a nasty, poodle-faking, horseless riffraff and the bazaar were there .The European club was probably the only source of European’s entertainment .There were also two Eurasians named Mr. Francis and Mr.

The rays of the setting sun, refracted by distant rainstorms, flooded the maidan with a beautiful, lurid light. It had been raining earlier in the day, and would rain again. The Christian community of Kyauktada, fifteen in number, were gathering at the church door for the evening service. The spire of the pagoda rose from the trees like a slender spear tipped with gold. The Government made it the headquarters of a district and a seat of Progress interpretable as a block of law courts, with their army of fat but ravenous pleaders, a hospital, a school and one of those huge, durable jails which the English had built everywhere between Gibraltar and Hong Kong. The jail, a vast square block, two hundred yards each way, with shiny concrete walls twenty feet high. ‘The bazaar's just round the corner,’ The bazaar was an enclosure like a very large cattle pen, with low stalls, mostly palm-thatched, round its edge. In the enclosure, a mob of people seethed, shouting and jostling; the confusion of their multi-colored clothes was like a cascade of hundreds-and-thousands poured out of a jar. Beyond the bazaar one could see the huge, miry river all quaked, shivered in the hot air. There was an English cemetery within a white wall half-way down the hill, and nearby a tiny tin-roofed