Life of Pi (33 page)

“I spent the rest of that day and the night on the raft, looking at him. We didn’t speak a word. He could have cut the raft loose. But he didn’t. He kept me around, like a bad conscience.

“In the morning, in plain sight of him, I pulled on the rope and boarded the lifeboat. I was very weak. He said nothing. I kept my peace. He caught a turtle. He gave me its blood. He butchered it and laid its best parts for me on the middle bench. I ate.

“Then we fought and I killed him. He had no expression on his face, neither of despair nor of anger, neither of fear nor of pain. He gave up. He let himself be killed, though it was still a struggle. He knew he had gone too far, even by his bestial standards. He had gone too far and now he didn’t want to go on living any more. But he never said ‘I’m sorry.’ Why do we cling to our evil ways?

“The knife was all along in plain view on the bench. We both knew it. He could have had it in his hands from the start. He was the one who put it there. I picked it up. I stabbed him in the stomach. He grimaced but remained standing. I pulled the knife out and stabbed him again. Blood was pouring out. Still he didn’t fall over. Looking me in the eyes, he lifted his head ever so slightly. Did he mean something by this? I took it that he did. I stabbed him in the throat, next to the Adam’s apple. He dropped like a stone. And died. He didn’t say anything. He had no last words. He only coughed up blood. A knife has a horrible dynamic power; once in motion, it’s hard to stop. I stabbed him repeatedly. His blood soothed my chapped hands. His
heart was a struggle—all those tubes that connected it. I managed to get it out. It tasted delicious, far better than turtle. I ate his liver. I cut off great pieces of his flesh.

“He was such an evil man. Worse still, he met evil in me—selfishness, anger, ruthlessness. I must live with that.

“Solitude began. I turned to God. I survived.”

[Long silence]

“Is that better? Are there any parts you find hard to believe? Anything you’d like me to change?”

Mr. Chiba:
“What a horrible story.”

[Long silence]

Mr. Okamoto:
“Both the zebra and the Taiwanese sailor broke a leg,
did you notice that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And the hyena bit off the zebra’s leg just as the cook cut off the
sailor’s.”

“Ohhh, Okamoto-san, you see a lot.”

“The blind Frenchman they met in the other lifeboat — didn’t he
admit to killing a man and a woman?”

“Yes, he did.”

“The cook killed the sailor and his mother.”

“Very impressive.”

“His stories match.”

“So the Taiwanese sailor is the zebra, his mother is the orang-utan,
the cook is … the hyena—which means he’s the tiger!”

“Yes. The tiger killed the hyena—and the blind Frenchman—just as
he killed the cook.”

Pi Patel: “Do you have another chocolate bar?”

Mr. Chiba: “Right away!”

“Thank you.”

Mr. Chiba:
“But what does it mean, Okamoto-san?”

“I have no idea.”

“And what about the island? Who are the meerkats?”

“I don’t know.”

“And those teeth? Whose teeth were those in the tree?”

“I don’t know. I’m not inside this boy’s head.”

[Long silence]

Mr. Okamoto: “Please excuse me for asking, but did the cook say anything about the sinking of the
Tsimtsum
?”

“In this other story?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t.”

“He made no mention of anything leading up to the early morning of July 2nd that might explain what happened?”

“No.”

“Nothing of a nature mechanical or structural?”

“No.”

“Nothing about other ships or objects at sea?”

“No.”

“He could not explain the sinking of the
Tsimtsum
at all?”

“No.”

“Could he say why it didn’t send out a distress signal?”

“And if it had? In my experience, when a dingy, third-rate rust-bucket sinks, unless it has the luck of carrying oil, lots of it, enough to kill entire ecosystems, no one cares and no one hears about it. You’re on your own.”

“When Oika realized that something was wrong, it was too late. You were too far out for air rescue. Ships in the area were told to be on the lookout. They reported seeing nothing.”

“And while we’re on the subject, the ship wasn’t the only thing that was third-rate. The crew were a sullen, unfriendly lot, hard at work when officers were around but doing nothing when they
weren’t. They didn’t speak a word of English and they were of no help to us. Some of them stank of alcohol by mid-afternoon. Who’s to say what those idiots did? The officers—”

“What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“‘Who’s to say what those idiots did?’”

“I mean that maybe in a fit of drunken insanity some of them released the animals.”

Mr. Chiba: “Who had the keys to the cages?”

“Father did.”

Mr. Chiba: “So how could the crew open the cages if they didn’t have the keys?”

“I don’t know. They probably used crowbars.”

Mr. Chiba: “Why would they do that? Why would anyone want to release a dangerous wild animal from its cage?”

“I don’t know. Can anyone fathom the workings of a drunken man’s mind? All I can tell you is what happened. The animals were out of their cages.”

Mr. Okamoto: “Excuse me. You have doubts about the fitness of the crew?”

“Grave doubts.”

“Did you witness any of the officers being under the influence of alcohol?”

“No.”

“But you saw some of the crew being under the influence of alcohol?”

“Yes.”

“Did the officers act in what seemed to you a competent and professional manner?”

“They had little to do with us. They never came close to the animals.”

“I mean in terms of running the ship.”

“How should I know? Do you think we had tea with them every day? They spoke English, but they were no better than the crew. They made us feel unwelcome in the common room and hardly said a word to us during meals. They went on in Japanese, as if we weren’t there. We were just a lowly Indian family with a bothersome cargo. We ended up eating on our own in Father and Mother’s cabin. ‘Adventure beckons!’ said Ravi. That’s what made it tolerable, our sense of adventure. We spent most of our time shovelling excrement and rinsing cages and giving feed while Father played the vet. So long as the animals were all right, we were all right. I don’t know if the officers were competent.”

“You said the ship was listing to port?”

“Yes.”

“And that there was an incline from bow to stern?”

“Yes.”

“So the ship sank stern first?”

“Yes.”

“Not bow first?”

“No.”

“You are sure? There was a slope from the front of the ship to the back?”

“Yes.”

“Did the ship hit another ship?”

“I didn’t see another ship.”

“Did it hit any other object?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Did it run aground?”

“No, it sank out of sight.”

“You were not aware of mechanical problems after leaving Manila?”

“No.”

“Did it appear to you that the ship was properly loaded?”

“It was my first time on a ship. I don’t know what a properly loaded ship should look like.”

“You believe you heard an explosion?”

“Yes.”

“Any other noises?”

“A thousand.”

“I mean that might explain the sinking.”

“No.”

“You said the ship sank quickly.”

“Yes.”

“Can you estimate how long it took?”

“It’s hard to say. Very quickly. I would think less than twenty minutes.”

“And there was a lot of debris?”

“Yes.”

“Was the ship struck by a freak wave?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But there was a storm?”

“The sea looked rough to me. There was wind and rain.”

“How high were the waves?”

“High. Twenty-five, thirty feet.”

“That’s quite modest, actually.”

“Not when you’re in a lifeboat.”

“Yes, of course. But for a cargo ship.”

“Maybe they were higher. I don’t know. The weather was bad enough to scare me witless, that’s all I know for sure.”

“You said the weather improved quickly. The ship sank and right after it was a beautiful day, isn’t that what you said?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like no more than a passing squall.”

“It sank the ship.”

“That’s what we’re wondering.”

“My whole family died.”

“We’re sorry about that.”

“Not as much as I am.”

“So what happened, Mr. Patel? We’re puzzled. Everything was normal and then …?”

“Then normal sank.”

“Why?” “I don’t know. You should be telling me. You’re the experts. Apply your science.”

“We don’t understand.”

[Long silence]

Mr. Chiba:
“Now what?”

Mr. Okamoto:
“We give up. The explanation for the sinking of the
Tsimtsum is at the bottom of the Pacific.”

[Long silence]

Mr. Okamoto:
“Yes, that’s it. Let’s go.
Well, Mr. Patel, I think we have all we need. We thank you very much for your cooperation. You’ve been very, very helpful.”

“You’re welcome. But before you go, I’d like to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“The
Tsimtsum
sank on July 2nd, 1977.”

“Yes.”

“And I arrived on the coast of Mexico, the sole human survivor of the
Tsimtsum
, on February 14th, 1978.”

“That’s right.”

“I told you two stories that account for the 227 days in between.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Neither explains the sinking of the
Tsimtsum
.”

“That’s right.”

“Neither makes a factual difference to you.”

“That’s true.”

“You can’t prove which story is true and which is not. You must take my word for it.”

“I guess so.”

“In both stories the ship sinks, my entire family dies, and I suffer.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can’t prove the question either way, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?”

Mr. Okamoto: “That’s an interesting question …”

Mr. Chiba: “The story with animals.”

Mr. Okamoto:
“Yes.
The story with animals is the better story.”

Pi Patel: “Thank you. And so it goes with God.”

[Silence]

Mr. Okamoto: “You’re welcome.”

Mr. Chiba:
“What did he just say?”

Mr. Okamoto:
“I don’t know.”

Mr. Chiba:
“Oh look—he’s crying.”

[Long silence]

Mr. Okamoto: “We’ll be careful when we drive away. We don’t want to run into Richard Parker.”

Pi Patel: “Don’t worry, you won’t. He’s hiding somewhere you’ll never find him.”

Mr. Okamoto: “Thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Mr. Patel. We’re grateful. And we’re really very sorry about what happened to you.”

“Thank you.”

“What will you be doing now?”

“I guess I’ll go to Canada.”

“Not back to India?”

“No. There’s nothing there for me now. Only sad memories.”

“Of course, you know you will be getting insurance money.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oika will be in touch with you.”

[Silence]

Mr. Okamoto: “We should be going. We wish you all the best, Mr. Patel.”

Mr. Chiba: “Yes, all the best.”

“Thank you.”

Mr. Okamoto: “Goodbye.”

Mr. Chiba: “Goodbye.”

Pi Patel: “Would you like some cookies for the road?”

Mr. Okamoto: “That would be nice.”

“Here, have three each.”

“Thank you.”

Mr. Chiba: “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Goodbye. God be with you, my brothers.”

“Thank you. And with you too, Mr. Patel.”

Mr. Chiba: “Goodbye.”

Mr. Okamoto:
“I’m starving. Let’s go eat. You can turn that off.”

Mr. Okamoto, in his letter to me, recalled the interrogation as having been
“difficult and memorable.” He remembered Piscine Molitor Patel as being
“very thin, very tough, very bright
.
”

His report, in its essential part, ran as follows: