Life of Pi

Ang Lee got everyone’s attention when he directed “Life of Pi”. The movie is a beautiful experience, filled with stunning visuals, thought-provoking narration and soothing music which lends a continuity to the production. In spite of all that, much like innumerable instances, the book is better than the movie.

The author, Yann Martel, does a fantastic job of lending a touch of reality when he writes the book. For those who are unaware, the book is written in three parts, each with a distinct narrative style. In the first part, we flit between the viewpoint of Pi Patel in Pondicherry and that of Yann Martel as he meets Pi in Canada. Themes of religion, rationality, atheism and base practicality are explored beautifully in this section of the book. Pi’s origin story, as one might say, is narrated with a kind of humour which seems to stem from a deeper injury. The nature of this injury, however, is explored much later.

One facet of the novel which is consistent in all three sections of the book is that of faith, primarily based in religion. What initially seems like a passing interest develops into a staunch, unbreakable bastion of strength for our young protagonist. He decides to become a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim simultaneously, much to the incredulity of his largely atheistic family (only his mother chose to believe in religion). His experiences with religion, which could have easily made him lose faith, instead make him recognize the fallibility of humans in the sphere of religion. He has a message for agnostics and atheists as well: “But we must move on. For to choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.”

The first section deals with the nature of the human and animal minds as well; a self-made zookeeper’s son is ideally placed to understand both. While humorous, these anecdotes serve to show just how important practicality is in life, and how criminally undervalued it is. Nevertheless, while combating a million different minuscule issues, our protagonist’s family manages to secure themselves a passage to Canada, specifically Manitoba. Martel’s viewpoint, narrated using italics, tells us about the grown-up Pi Patel in Canada; a family man with enough food reserves to last the siege of Leningrad.

In the second section of the novel, we are introduced, quite rudely, to survival. Not of the fittest, exactly, but of the most desperate. Adrift in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the erudite, genteel Pi Patel is alone, but not unaccompanied. He has a fully-grown Royal Bengal tiger as his fellow castaway. Apex predator meets human, but this isn’t Bear Grylls; the situation is far more bleak. Here, we no longer flit between viewpoints-this part of the story belongs to Pi and Pi alone. A vegetarian schoolboy turns into a carnivore, but retains his sensibilities enough to note the degree of his deterioration. A burgeoning interest in religions turns into a pillar of strength. An imprisoned animal becomes a cherished companion. A boy turns into a man. It is truly surprising what a large body of salt water can do to a person.

In this part, we do not encounter the precise and profound reflections observed so often in the first section. We are introduced to the lucid ramblings of an individual coherent in thought, exhausted in body and spirit, but unfailingly clear in his desire to survive. Emotions run rampant, escalating from despair to anger to hopelessness and then changing to pure ecstasy, but there is always something to do aboard the lifeboat and no one but Pi to do it. The impatience and casual ignorance of Richard Parker, his companion, moves Pi to tears of both joy and sadness. After all, a tiger is a magnificent creature, and the Pacific Ocean, a limitless vista. Pi just happens to be the observer who also wishes to survive.

The third section of the novel begins once Pi has reached the shores of New Mexico. He acknowledges the one thing he hates about his chosen nickname: the fact that it never ends. It’s important to end things properly, he says, but the end of his association with his feline castaway was the most unceremonious one of them all. Survival alone is not enough in this tale, for the Japanese shipping company owning the sunken ship wish for an enquiry. And Pi cooperates with them, but truth, as is so often the case, is stranger than fiction. After an extensive conversation, during the course of which the exasperation of the two officers keeps increasing, they finally arrive at a conclusion. The book ends with the report by these two officers, but there is a beauty in the way it does. For unlike pi, the entire novel tells us about Pi in exactly a hundred chapters-not one more, not one less.

A lucid, beautifully written novel, “Life of Pi” has no dearth of moments where you can cry, laugh, gasp, or just celebrate with Pi as he goes on his journey. The movie, while brilliant, can only convey half of what the book intends to. Having said that, be sure to give this novel a read, and let me know what you think.