i said, "richard parker, is something wrong? have you goneblind?" as i waved my hand in his face.

for a day or two he had been rubbing his eyes andmeowing disconsolately, but i thought nothing of it. aches andpains were the only part of our diet that was abundant. icaught a dorado. we hadn't eaten anything in three days. aturtle had come up to the lifeboat the day before, but i hadbeen too weak to pull it aboard. i cut the fish in two halves.

richard parker was looking my way. i threw him his share. iexpected him to catch it in his mouth smartly. it crashed intohis blank face. he bent down. after sniffing left and right, hefound the fish and began eating it. we were slow eaters now.

i peered into his eyes. they looked no different from anyother day. perhaps there was a little more discharge in theinner corners, but it was nothing dramatic, certainly not asdramatic as his overall appearance. the ordeal had reduced usto skin and bones.

i realized that i had my answer in the very act of looking. iwas staring into his eyes as if i were an eye doctor, while hewas looking back vacantly. only a blind wild cat would fail toreact to such a stare.

i felt pity for richard parker. our end was approaching.

the next day i started feeling a stinging in my eyes. irubbed and rubbed, but the itch wouldn't go away. the veryopposite: it got worse, and unlike richard parker, my eyesstarted to ooze pus. then darkness came, blink as i might. atfirst it was right in front of me, a black spot at the centre ofeverything. it spread into a blotch that reached to the edges ofmy vision. all i saw of the sun the next morning was a crackof light at the top of my left eye, like a small window too highup. by noon, everything was pitch-black.

i clung to life. i was weakly frantic. the heat was infernal. ihad so little strength i could no longer stand. my lips werehard and cracked. my mouth was dry and pasty, coated witha glutinous saliva as foul to taste as it was to smell. my skinwas burnt. my shrivelled muscles ached. my limbs, especiallymy feet, were swollen and a constant source of pain. i washungry and once again there was no food. as for water,richard parker was taking so much that i was down to fivespoonfuls a day. but this physical suffering was nothingcompared to the moral torture i was about to endure. i wouldrate the day i went blind as the day my extreme sufferingbegan. i could not tell you when exactly in the journey ithappened. time, as i said before, became irrelevant. it musthave been sometime between the hundredth and thetwo-hundredth day. i was certain i would not last another one.

by the next morning i had lost all fear of death, and iresolved to die.

i came to the sad conclusion that i could no longer takecare of richard parker. i had failed as a zookeeper. i wasmore affected by his imminent demise than i was by my own.

but truly, broken down and wasted away as i was, i could dono more for him.

nature was sinking fast. i could feel a fatal weaknesscreeping up on me. i would be dead by the afternoon. tomake my going more comfortable i decided to put off a littlethe intolerable thirst i had been living with for so long. igulped down as much water as i could take. if only i couldhave had a last bite to eat. but it seemed that was not to be.

i set myself against the rolled-up edge of the tarpaulin in themiddle of the boat. i closed my eyes and waited for my breathto leave my body. i muttered, "goodbye, richard parker. i'msorry for having failed you. i did my best. farewell. dearfather, dear mother, dear ravi, greetings. your loving son andbrother is coming to meet you. not an hour has gone by thati haven't thought of you. the moment i see you will be thehappiest of my life. and now i leave matters in the hands ofgod, who is love and whom i love." i heard the words, "issomeone there?" it's astonishing what you hear when you'realone in the blackness of your dying mind. a sound withoutshape or colour sounds strange. to be blind is to hearotherwise.

the words came again, "is someone there?" i concluded thati had gone mad. sad but true. misery loves company, andmadness calls it forth. "is someone there?" came the voiceagain, insistent. the clarity of my insanity was astonishing. thevoice had its very own timbre, with a heavy, weary rasp. idecided to play along.

"of course someone's there," i replied. "there's always someone there. who would be asking the question otherwise?""i was hoping there would be someone else." "what do youmean, someone e/se? do you realize where you are? if you'renot happy with this figment of your fancy, pick another one.

there are plenty of fancies to pick from."hmmm. figment. fig-ment. wouldn't a fig be good?

"so there's no one, is there?""shush… i'm dreaming of figs.""figs! do you have a fig? please can i have a piece? i begyou. only a little piece. i'm starving.""i don't have just one fig. i have a whole figment.""a whole figment of figs! oh please, can i have some? i…"the voice, or whatever effect of wind and waves it was,faded.

"they're plump and heavy and fragrant," i continued. "thebranches of the tree are bent over, they are so weighed downwith figs. there must be over three hundred figs in that tree."silence.

the voice came back again. "let's talk about food…""what a good idea.""what would you have to eat if you could have anythingyou wanted?""excellent question. i would have a magnificent buffet. iwould start with rice and sambar. there would be black gramdhal rice and curd rice and – ""i would have – ""i'm not finished. and with my rice i would have spicytamarind sambar and small onion sambar and – ""anything else?""i'm getting there. i'd also have mixed vegetable sagu andvegetable korma and potato masala and cabbage vadai andmasala dosai and spicy lentil rasam and – ""i see.""wait. and stuffed eggplant poriyal and coconut yam kootuand rice idli and curd vadai and vegetable bajji and – ""it sounds very – ""have i mentioned the chutneys yet? coconut chutney andmint chutney and green chilli pickle and gooseberry pickle, allserved with the usual nans, popadoms, parathas and puris, ofcourse.""sounds – ""the salads! mango curd salad and okra curd salad andplain fresh cucumber salad. and for dessert, almond payasamand milk payasam and jaggery pancake and peanut toffee andcoconut burfi and vanilla ice cream with hot, thick chocolatesauce.""is that it?""i'd finish this snack with a ten-litre glass of fresh, clean,cool, chilled water and a coffee.""it sounds very good.""it does.""tell me, what is coconut yam kootu?""nothing short of heaven, that's what. to make it you needyams, grated coconut, green plantains, chilli powder, groundblack pepper, ground turmeric, cumin seeds, brown mustardseeds and some coconut oil. you sauté the coconut until it'sgolden brown – ""may i make a suggestion?""what?""instead of coconut yam kootu, why not boiled beef tonguewith a mustard sauce?""that sounds non-veg.""it is. and then tripe.""tripe? you've eaten the poor animal's tongue and now youwant to eat its stomach?""yes! i dream of tripes à la mode de caen – warm – withsweetbread.""sweetbread? that sounds better. what is sweetbread?""sweetbread is made from the pancreas of a calf.""the pancreas!""braised and with a mushroom sauce, it's simply delicious."where were these disgusting, sacrilegious recipes comingfrom? was i so far gone that i was contemplating setting upona cow and her young? what horrible crosswind was i caughtin? had the lifeboat drifted back into that floating trash?

"what will be the next affront?""calf's brains in a brown butter sauce!""back to the head, are we?""brain souffle!""i'm feeling sick. is there anything you won't eat?""what i would give for oxtail soup. for roast suckling pigstuffed with rice, sausages, apricots and raisins. for veal kidneyin a butter, mustard and parsley sauce. for a marinated rabbitstewed in red wine. for chicken liver sausages. for pork andliver pate with veal. for frogs. ah, give me frogs, give mefrogs!""i'm barely holding on."the voice faded. i was trembling with nausea. madness inthe mind was one thing, but it was not fair that it should goto the stomach.

understanding suddenly dawned on me.

"would you eat bleeding raw beef?" i asked.

"of course! i love tartar steak.""would you eat the congealed blood of a dead pig?""every day, with apple sauce!""would you eat anything from an animal, the last remains?""scrapple and sausage! i'd have a heaping plate!""how about a carrot? would you eat a plain, raw carrot?"there was no answer.

"did you not hear me? would you eat a carrot?""i heard you. to be honest, if i had the choice, i wouldn't.

i don't have much of a stomach for that kind of food. i find itquite distasteful."i laughed. i knew it. i wasn't hearing voices. i hadn't gonemad. it was richard parker who was speaking to me! thecarnivorous rascal. all this time together and he had chosen anhour before we were to die to pipe up. i was elated to be onspeaking terms with a tiger. immediately i was filled with avulgar curiosity, the sort that movie stars suffer from at thehands of their fans.

"i'm curious, tell me – have you ever killed a man?

i doubted it. man-eaters among animals are as rare asmurderers among men, and richard parker was caught whilestill a cub. but who's to say that his mother, before she wasnabbed by thirsty, hadn't caught a human being?

"what a question," replied richard parker.

"seems reasonable.""it does?""yes.""why?""you have the reputation that you have.""i do?""of course. are you blind to that fact?""i am.""well, let me make clear what you evidently can't see: youhave that reputation. so, have you ever killed a man?"silence.

"well? answer me.""yes.""oh! it sends shivers down my spine. how many?""two.""you've killed two men?""no. a man and a woman.""at the same time?""no. the man first, the woman second.""you monster! i bet you thought it was great fun. you musthave found their cries and their struggles quite entertaining.""not really.""were they good?""were they good?

"yes. don't be so obtuse. did they taste good?""no, they didn't taste good.""i thought so. i've heard it's an acquired taste in animals. sowhy did you kill them?""need.""the need of a monster. any regrets?""it was them or me.""that is need expressed in all its amoral simplicity. but anyregrets now?""it was the doing of a moment. it was circumstance.""instinct, it's called instinct. still, answer the question, anyregrets now?""i don't think about it.""the very definition of an animal. that's all you are.""and what are you?""a human being, i'll have you know.""what boastful pride.""it's the plain truth.""so, you would throw the first stone, would you?""have you ever had oothappam?""no, i haven't. but tell me about it. what is oothappam?""it is so good.""sounds delicious. tell me more.""oothappam is often made with leftover batter, but rarelyhas a culinary afterthought been so memorable.""i can already taste it."i fell asleep. or, rather, into a state of dying delirium.

but something was niggling at me. i couldn't say what.

whatever it was, it was disturbing my dying.

i came to. i knew what it was that was bothering me.

"excuse me?""yes?" came richard parker's voice faintly.

"why do you have an accent?""i don't. it is you who has an accent.""no, i don't. you pronounce the ‘ze'.""i pronounce ze ‘ze', as it should be. you speak with warmmarbles in your mouth. you have an indian accent.""you speak as if your tongue were a saw and englishwords were made of wood. you have a french accent."it was utterly incongruous. richard parker was born inbangladesh and raised in tamil nadu, so why should he havea french accent? granted, pondicherry was once a frenchcolony, but no one would have me believe that some of thezoo animals had frequented the alliance fran?aise on ruedumas.

it was very perplexing. i fell into a fog again.

i woke up with a gasp. someone was there! this voicecoming to my ears was neither a wind with an accent nor ananimal speaking up. it was someone else! my heart beatfiercely, making one last go at pushing some blood through myworn-out system. my mind made a final attempt at being lucid.

"only an echo, i fear," i heard, barely audibly.

"wait, i'm here!" i shouted.

"an echo at sea…""no, it's me!""that this would end!""my friend!""i'm wasting away…""stay, stay!"i could barely hear him.

i shrieked.

he shrieked back.

it was too much. i would go mad.

i had an idea.

"my name," i roared to the elements with my last breath,"is piscine molitor patel." how could an echo create aname? "do you hear me? i am piscine molitor patel, known toall as pi patel!""what? is someone there?""yes, someone's there!""what! can it be true? please, do you have any food?

anything at all. i have no food left. i haven't eaten anything indays. i must have something. i'll be grateful for whatever youcan spare. i beg you.""but i have no food either," i answered, dismayed. "ihaven't eaten anything in days myself. i was hoping you wouldhave food. do you have water? my supplies are very low.""no, i don't. you have no food at all? nothing?""no, nothing."there was silence, a heavy silence.

"where are you?" i asked.

"i'm here," he replied wearily.

"but where is that? i can't see you.""why can't you see me?""i've gone blind.""what?" he exclaimed.

"i've gone blind. my eyes see nothing but darkness. i blinkfor nothing. these last two days, if my skin can be trusted tomeasure time. it only can tell me if it's day or night."i heard a terrible wail.

"what? what is it, my friend?" i asked.

he kept wailing.

"please answer me. what is it? i'm blind and we have nofood and water, but we have each other. that is something.

something precious. so what is it, my dear brother?""i too am blind!""what?""i too blink for nothing, as you say."he wailed again. i was struck dumb. i had met anotherblind man on another lifeboat in the pacific!

"but how could you be blind?" i mumbled.

"probably for the same reason you are. the result of poorhygiene on a starving body at the end .of its tether."we both broke down. he wailed and i sobbed. it was toomuch, truly it was too much.

"i have a story," i said, after a while.

"a story?""yes.""of what use is a story? i'm hungry.""it's a story about food.""words have no calories.""seek food where food is to be found.""that's an idea."silence. a famishing silence.

"where are you?" he asked.

"here. and you?""here."i heard a splashing sound as an oar dipped into water. ireached for one of the oars i had salvaged from the wreckedraft. it was so heavy. i felt with my hands and found theclosest oarlock. i dropped the oar in it. i pulled on the handle.

i had no strength. but i rowed as best i could.

"let's hear your story," he said, panting.

"once upon a time there was a banana and it grew. it grewuntil it was large, firm, yellow and fragrant. then it fell to theground and someone came upon it and ate it."he stopped rowing. "what a beautiful story!""thank you.""i have tears in my eyes.""i have another element," i said.

"what is it?""the banana fell to the ground and someone came upon itand ate it – and afterwards that person felt better?

"it takes the breath away!" he exclaimed.

"thank you."a pause.

"but you don't have any bananas?""no. an orang-utan distracted me.""a what?""it's a long story.""any toothpaste?""no.""delicious on fish. any cigarettes?""i ate them already.""you ate them?""i still have the filters. you can have them if you like.""the filters? what would i do with cigarette filters withoutthe tobacco? how could you eat cigarettes?""what should i have done with them? i don't smoke.""you should have kept them for trading.""trading? with whom?""with me!""my brother, when i ate them i was alone in a lifeboat inthe middle of the pacific.""so?""so, the chance of meeting someone in the middle of thepacific with whom to trade my cigarettes did not strike me asan obvious prospect.""you have to plan ahead, you stupid boy! now you havenothing to trade.""but even if i had something to trade, what would i trade itfor? what do you have that i would want?""i have a boot," he said.

"a boot?""yes, a fine leather boot.""what would i do with a leather boot in a lifeboat in themiddle of the pacific? do you think i go for hikes in my sparetime?""you could eat it!""eat a boot? what an idea.""you eat cigarettes – why not a boot?""the idea is disgusting. whose boot, by the way?""how should i know?""you're suggesting i eat a complete stranger's boot?""what difference does it make?""i'm flabbergasted. a boot. putting aside the fact that i am ahindu and we hindus consider cows sacred, eating a leatherboot conjures to my mind eating all the filth that a foot mightexude in addition to all the filth it might step in while shod.""so no boot for you.""let's see it first.""no.""what? do you expect me to trade something with you sightunseen?""we're both blind, may i remind you.""describe this boot to me, then! what kind of a pitifulsalesman are you? no wonder you're starved for customers.""that's right. i am.""well, the boot?""it's a leather boot.""what kind of leather boot?""the regular kind.""which means?""a boot with a shoelace and eyelets and a tongue. with aninner sole. the regular kind.""what colour?""black.""in what condition?""worn. the leather soft and supple, lovely to the touch.""and the smell?""of warm, fragrant leather.""i must admit – i must admit – it sounds tempting!""you can forget about it.""why?"silence.

"will you not answer, my brother?""there's no boot.""no boot?""no.""that makes me sad.""i ate it.""you ate the boot?""yes.""was it good?""no. were the cigarettes good?""no. i couldn't finish them.""i couldn't finish the boot.""once upon a time there was a banana and it grew. it grewuntil it was large, firm, yellow and fragrant. then it fell to theground and someone came upon it and ate it and afterwardsthat person felt better.""i'm sorry. i'm sorry for all i've said and done. i'm aworthless person," he burst out.

"what do you mean? you are the most precious, wonderfulperson on earth. come, my brother, let us be together andfeast on each other's company.""yes!"the pacific is no place for rowers, especially when they areweak and blind, when their lifeboats are large and unwieldy,and when the wind is not cooperating. he was close by; hewas far away. he was to my left; he was to my right. he wasahead of me; he was behind me. but at last we managed it.

our boats touched with a bump even sweeter-sounding than aturtle's. he threw me a rope and i tethered his boat to mine.

i opened my arms to embrace him and to be embraced byhim. my eyes were brimming with tears and i was smiling. hewas directly in front of me, a presence glowing through myblindness.

"my sweet brother," i whispered.

"i am here," he replied.

i heard a faint growl.

"brother, there's something i forgot to mention."he landed upon me heavily. we fell half onto the tarpaulin,half onto the middle bench. his hands reached for my throat.

"brother," i gasped through his overeager embrace, "myheart is with you, but i must urgently suggest we repair toanother part of my humble ship.""you're damn right your heart is with me!" he said. "andyour liver and your flesh!"i could feel him moving off the tarpaulin onto the middlebench and, fatally, bringing a foot down to the floor of theboat.

"no, no, my brother! don't! we're not – " i tried to holdhim back. alas, it was too late. before i could say the wordalone, i was alone again. i heard the merest clicking of clawsagainst the bottom of the boat, no more than the sound of apair of spectacles falling to the floor, and the next moment mydear brother shrieked in my face like i've never heard a manshriek before. he let go of me.

this was the terrible cost of richard parker. he gave me alife, my own, but at the expense of taking one. he ripped theflesh off the man's frame and cracked his bones. the smell ofblood filled my nose. something in me died then that hasnever come back to life.