Life of Pi - Yann Martel [109]
"Sounds-"
"The salads! Mango curd salad and okra curd salad and plain fresh cucumber salad. And for dessert, almond payasam and milk payasam and jaggery pancake and peanut toffee and coconut burfi and vanilla ice cream with hot, thick chocolate sauce." "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 need yams, grated coconut, green plantains, chilli powder, ground black pepper, ground turmeric, cumin seeds, brown mustard seeds and some coconut oil. You saute the coconut until it's golden brown-"
"May I make a suggestion?"
"What?"
"Instead of coconut yam kootu, why not boiled beef tongue with a mustard sauce?" "That sounds non-veg." "It is. And then tripe."
"Tripe? You've eaten the poor animal's tongue and now you want to eat its stomach ?" "Yes! I dream of tripes a la mode de Caen -warm-with sweetbread." "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 coming from? Was I so far gone that I was contemplating setting upon a cow and her young ? What horrible crosswind was I caught in? 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 pig stuffed with rice, sausages, apricots and raisins. For veal kidney in a butter, mustard and parsley sauce. For a marinated rabbit stewed in red wine. For chicken liver sausages. For pork and liver pate with veal. For frogs. Ah, give me frogs, give me frogs!"
"I'm barely holding on."
The voice faded. I was trembling with nausea. Madness in the mind was one thing, but it was not fair that it should go to 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 it quite distasteful."
I laughed. I knew it. I wasn't hearing voices. I hadn't gone mad. It was Richard Parker who was speaking to me! The carnivorous rascal. All this time together and he had chosen an hour before we were to die to pipe up. I was elated to be on speaking terms with a tiger. Immediately I was filled with a vulgar curiosity, the sort that movie stars suffer from at the hands of their fans.
"I'm curious, tell me-have you ever killed a man?"
I doubted it. Man-eaters among animals are as rare as murderers among men, and Richard Parker was caught while still a cub. But who's to say that his mother, before she was nabbed 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: you have 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 must have found their cries and their struggles quite entertaining." "Not really."