They met once, Mr. and Mr. Kumar, the baker and theteacher. The first Mr. Kumar had expressed the wish to seethe zoo. "All these years and I've never seen it. It's so closeby, too. Will you show it to me?" he asked.
"Yes, of course," I replied. "It would be an honour." Weagreed to meet at the main gate the next day after school.
I worried all that day. I scolded myself, "You fool! Why didyou say the main gate? At any time there will be a crowd ofpeople there. Have you forgotten how plain he looks? You'llnever recognize him!" If I walked by him without seeing him‘he would be hurt. He would think I had changed my mindand didn't want to be seen with a poor Muslim baker. Hewould leave without saying a word. He wouldn't be angry – hewould accept my claims that it was the sun in my eyes – buthe wouldn't want to come to the zoo any more. I could see ithappening that way. I had to recognize him. I would hide andwait until I was certain it was him, that's what I would do. ButI had noticed before that it was when I tried my hardest torecognize him that I was least able to pick him out. The veryeffort seemed to blind me.
At the appointed hour I stopd squarely before the main gateof the zoo and started rubbing my eyes with both hands.
"What are you doing?"It was Raj, a friend.
"I'm busy.""You're busy rubbing your eyes?""Go away.""Let's go to Beach Road.""I'm waiting for someone.""Well, you'll miss him if you keep rubbing your eyes likethat.""Thank you for the information. Have fun on Beach Road.""How about Government Park?""I can't, I tell you.""Come on.""Please, Raj, move on!"He left. I went back to rubbing my eyes.
"Will you help me with my math homework, Pi?"It was Ajith, another friend.
"Later. Go away.""Hello, Piscine."It was Mrs. Radhakrishna, a friend of Mother's. In a fewmore 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 afamiliar way, familiar in a strange way. I felt a smile welling upin me.
"Salaam alaykum, Mr. Kumar! How good to see you.""Wa alaykum as-salaam. Is something wrong with youreyes?""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 handaway and showed Mr. Kumar into the zoo.
He marvelled at everything, at how to tall trees came tallgiraffes, how carnivores were supplied with herbivores andherbivores with grass, how some creatures crowded the dayand others the night, how some that needed sharp beaks hadsharp beaks and others that needed limber limbs had limberlimbs. It made me happy that he was so impressed.
He quoted from the Holy Qur'an: "In all this there aremessages indeed for a people who use their reason."We came to the zebras. Mr. Kumar had never heard ofsuch 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 andsturdy specimen. I took it out of the bag. At that moment Iheard a slight scraping of gravel to my right. It was Mr.
Kumar, coming up to the railing in his usual limping and rollinggait.
"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 tothe low fence. It twitched its ears and stamped the groundsoftly. I broke the carrot in two and gave one half to Mr.
Kumar and one half to Mr. Kumar. "Thank you, Piscine," saidone; "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 letgo. The zebra sank its teeth into the carrot and snapped it intwo. It crunched loudly on the treat for a few seconds, thenreached for the remaining piece, lips flowing over Mr. Kumar'sfingertips. He released the carrot and touched the zebra's softnose.
It was Mr. Kumar's turn. He wasn't so demanding of thezebra. Once it had his half of the carrot between its lips, he letgo. 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 thesame 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.
"Yes, of course," I replied. "It would be an honour." Weagreed to meet at the main gate the next day after school.
I worried all that day. I scolded myself, "You fool! Why didyou say the main gate? At any time there will be a crowd ofpeople there. Have you forgotten how plain he looks? You'llnever recognize him!" If I walked by him without seeing him‘he would be hurt. He would think I had changed my mindand didn't want to be seen with a poor Muslim baker. Hewould leave without saying a word. He wouldn't be angry – hewould accept my claims that it was the sun in my eyes – buthe wouldn't want to come to the zoo any more. I could see ithappening that way. I had to recognize him. I would hide andwait until I was certain it was him, that's what I would do. ButI had noticed before that it was when I tried my hardest torecognize him that I was least able to pick him out. The veryeffort seemed to blind me.
At the appointed hour I stopd squarely before the main gateof the zoo and started rubbing my eyes with both hands.
"What are you doing?"It was Raj, a friend.
"I'm busy.""You're busy rubbing your eyes?""Go away.""Let's go to Beach Road.""I'm waiting for someone.""Well, you'll miss him if you keep rubbing your eyes likethat.""Thank you for the information. Have fun on Beach Road.""How about Government Park?""I can't, I tell you.""Come on.""Please, Raj, move on!"He left. I went back to rubbing my eyes.
"Will you help me with my math homework, Pi?"It was Ajith, another friend.
"Later. Go away.""Hello, Piscine."It was Mrs. Radhakrishna, a friend of Mother's. In a fewmore 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 afamiliar way, familiar in a strange way. I felt a smile welling upin me.
"Salaam alaykum, Mr. Kumar! How good to see you.""Wa alaykum as-salaam. Is something wrong with youreyes?""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 handaway and showed Mr. Kumar into the zoo.
He marvelled at everything, at how to tall trees came tallgiraffes, how carnivores were supplied with herbivores andherbivores with grass, how some creatures crowded the dayand others the night, how some that needed sharp beaks hadsharp beaks and others that needed limber limbs had limberlimbs. It made me happy that he was so impressed.
He quoted from the Holy Qur'an: "In all this there aremessages indeed for a people who use their reason."We came to the zebras. Mr. Kumar had never heard ofsuch 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 andsturdy specimen. I took it out of the bag. At that moment Iheard a slight scraping of gravel to my right. It was Mr.
Kumar, coming up to the railing in his usual limping and rollinggait.
"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 tothe low fence. It twitched its ears and stamped the groundsoftly. I broke the carrot in two and gave one half to Mr.
Kumar and one half to Mr. Kumar. "Thank you, Piscine," saidone; "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 letgo. The zebra sank its teeth into the carrot and snapped it intwo. It crunched loudly on the treat for a few seconds, thenreached for the remaining piece, lips flowing over Mr. Kumar'sfingertips. He released the carrot and touched the zebra's softnose.
It was Mr. Kumar's turn. He wasn't so demanding of thezebra. Once it had his half of the carrot between its lips, he letgo. 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 thesame 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.