Rohinton Mistry's 'A Fine Balance'

I just finished reading Rohinton Mistry's 'A Fine Balance'. I have here attempted to present my views about the novel. It is a heart-rending account of the suffering of the poor at the hands of the so-called upper-caste people and those who had the power. The condition of the slum-dwellers is pitiable – the conditions in which they live, the way they are treated. Life takes a turn for the worse for the two tailors, Ishvar and Om, when they are taken away by the officials to a work site mistaking them to be beggars. Even earlier they had suffered too much. First in the village because they belonged to a lower caste; then their struggle in the city. But the torture they have to undergo towards the end of the novel, in the name of the Family Planning Programme, is more than a human can bear. One doesn’t expect them to be alive till the end of the novel. But they are fighters just like their former employee, Dina Dalal. Both Ishvar and Om take to begging as their profession.
Even Dina Dalal’s character is that of a strong lady, given the tragedies she has faced in her life – especially after the death of her mother. Then there is the character called Maneck. A very finely carved and polished character, very sensitive one. One is very shocked when he dies suddenly.
Each character in the novel has suffering of his own but nobody knows how and where to pour out their grief. I was reminded of the line from Anton Chekhov’s story ‘Grief’: “To whom shall I tell my grief.”
There are deaths of Om’s family (burnt alive by the upper caste people of their village), his father (killed by the upper caste earlier), Shankar (the beggar), Avinash (Maneck’s friend), Avinash’s three sisters, and finally that of Maneck. Each death has a long tale of suffering behind it.
What I believe is that all human beings are born equal. God doesn’t differentiate because of caste, colour or creed. Who are we to do so? Life is very short-lived. We shouldn’t waste time over frivolous things and petty fights. After all, “Life is a tale told by and idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing” (Shakespeare in ‘Macbeth’).