Life of Pi

of Mother's. In a few more words I eased her on her way.
     
    "Excuse me. Where's Laporte Street?"
     
    A stranger.
     
    "That way."
     
    "How much is admission to the zoo?"
     
    Another stranger.
     
    "Five rupees. The ticket booth is right there."
     
    "Has the chlorine got to your eyes?"
     
    It was Mamaji.
     
    "Hello, Mamaji. No, it hasn't."
     
    "Is your father around?"
     
    "I think so."
     
    "See you tomorrow morning."
     
    "Yes, Mamaji."
     
    "I am here, Piscine."
     
    My hands froze over my eyes. That voice. Strange in a familiar way, familiar in a strange way. I felt a smile welling up in me.
     
    "Salaam alaykum, Mr. Kumar! How good to see you."
     
    "Wa alaykum as-salaam. Is something wrong with your eyes?"
     
    "No, nothing. Just a bit of dust."
     
    "They look quite red."
     
    "It's nothing."
     
    He headed for the ticket booth but I called him back.
     
    "No, no. Not for you, master."
     
    It was with pride that I waved the ticket collector's hand away and showed Mr. Kumar into the zoo.
     
    He marvelled at everything, at how to tall trees came tall giraffes, how carnivores were supplied with herbivores and herbivores with grass, how some creatures crowded the day and others the night, how some that needed sharp beaks had sharp beaks and others that needed limber limbs had limber limbs. It made me happy that he was so impressed.
     
    He quoted from the Holy Qur'an: "In all this there are messages indeed for a people who use their reason."
     
    We came to the zebras. Mr. Kumar had never heard of such creatures, let alone seen one. He was dumbfounded.
     
    "They're called zebras," I said.
     
    "Have they been painted with a brush?"
     
    "No, no. They look like that naturally."
     
    "What happens when it rains?"
     
    "Nothing."
     
    "The stripes don't melt?"
     
    "No."
     
    I had brought some carrots. There was one left, a large and sturdy specimen. I took it out of the bag. At that moment I heard a slight scraping of gravel to my right. It was Mr. Kumar, coming up to the railing in his usual limping and rolling gait.
     
    "Hello, sir."
     
    "Hello, Pi."
     
    The baker, a shy but dignified man, nodded at the teacher, who nodded back.
     
    An alert zebra had noticed my carrot and had come up to the low fence. It twitched its ears and stamped the ground softly. I broke the carrot in two and gave one half to Mr. Kumar and one half to Mr. Kumar. "Thank you, Piscine," said one; "Thank you, Pi," said the other. Mr. Kumar went first, dipping his hand over the fence. The zebra's thick, strong, black lips grasped the carrot eagerly. Mr. Kumar wouldn't let go. The zebra sank its teeth into the carrot and snapped it in two. It crunched loudly on the treat for a few seconds, then reached for the remaining piece, lips flowing over Mr. Kumar's fingertips. He released the carrot and touched the zebra's soft nose.
     
    It was Mr. Kumar's turn. He wasn't so demanding of the zebra. Once it had his half of the carrot between its lips, he let go. The lips hurriedly moved the carrot into the mouth.
     
    Mr. and Mr. Kumar looked delighted. "A zebra, you say?" said Mr. Kumar.
     
    "That's right," I replied. "It belongs to the same family as the ass and the horse."
     
    "The Rolls-Royce of equids," said Mr. Kumar.
     
    "What a wondrous creature," said Mr. Kumar.
     
    "This one's a Grant's zebra," I said.
     
    Mr. Kumar said, "Equus burchelli boehmi."
     
    Mr. Kumar said, "Allahu akbar."
     
    I said, "It's very pretty."
     
    We looked on.
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER    32
     
    There are many examples of animals coming to surprising living arrangements. All are instances of that animal equivalent of anthropomorphism: zoomorphism, where an animal takes a human being, or another animal, to be one of its kind.
     
    The most famous case is also the most common: the pet dog, which has so assimilated humans into the realm of doghood as to want to mate with them, a fact that any dog owner who has had to pull an amorous dog from the leg of a mortified visitor will confirm.
     
    Our golden agouti and spotted paca got along very well, conentedly huddling together and sleeping against each other until the first was stolen.
     
    I have already mentioned our rhinoceros-and-goat herd, and the case of circus lions.
     
    There are confirmed stories of drowning sailors being pushed up to the surface of the water and held there by dolphins, a characteristic way in which these marine mammals help each other.
     
    A case is mentioned in the