Chapter 57

It was Richard Parker who calmed me down. It is the irony of this story that the one who scared me witless to start with was the very same who brought me peace, purpose, I dare say even wholeness.

He was looking at me intently. After a time I recognized the gaze. I had grown up with it. It was the gaze of a contented animal looking out from its cage or pit the way you or I would look out from a restaurant table after a good meal, when the time has come for conversation and people-watching. Clearly, Richard Parker had eaten his fill of hyena and drunk all the rainwater he wanted. No lips were rising and falling, no teeth were showing, no growling or snarling was coming from him. He was simply taking me in, observing me, in a manner that was sober but not menacing. He kept twitching his ears and varying the sideways turn of his head. It was all so, well, catlike. He looked like a nice, big, fat domestic cat, a 450-pound tabby.

He made a sound, a snort from his nostrils. I pricked up my ears. He did it a second time. I was astonished. Prusten?

Tigers make a variety of sounds. They include a number of roars and growls, the loudest of these being most likely the full-throated aaonh, usually made during the mating season by males and oestrous females. It's a cry that travels far and wide, and is absolutely petrifying when heard close up. Tigers go woof when they are caught unawares, a short, sharp detonation of fury that would instantly make your legs jump up and run away if they weren't frozen to the spot. When they charge, tigers put out throaty, coughing roars. The growl they use for purposes of threatening has yet another guttural quality. And tigers hiss and snarl, which, depending on the emotion behind it, sounds either like autumn leaves rustling on the ground, but a little more resonant, or, when it's an infuriated snarl, like a giant door with rusty hinges slowly opening-in both cases, utterly spine-chilling. Tigers make other sounds too. They grunt and they moan. They purr, though not as melodiously or as frequently as small cats, and only as they breathe out. (Only small cats purr breathing both ways. It is one of the characteristics that distinguishes big cats from small cats. Another is that only big cats can roar. A good thing that is. I'm afraid the popularity of the domestic cat would drop very quickly if little kitty could roar its displeasure.) Tigers even go meow, with an inflection similar to that of domestic cats, but louder and in a deeper range, not as encouraging to one to bend down and pick them up. And tigers can be utterly, majestically silent, that too.

I had heard all these sounds growing up. Except for prusten. If I knew of it, it was because Father had told me about it. He had read descriptions of it in the literature. But he had heard it only once, while on a working visit to the Mysore Zoo, in their animal hospital, from a young male being treated for pneumonia. Prusten is the quietest of tiger calls, a puff through the nose to express friendliness and harmless intentions.

Richard Parker did it again, this time with a rolling of the head. He looked exactly as if he were asking me a question.

I looked at him, full of fearful wonder. There being no immediate threat, my breath slowed down, my heart stopped knocking about in my chest, and I began to regain my senses.

I had to tame him. It was at that moment that I realized this necessity. It was not a question of him or me, but of him and me. We were, literally and figuratively, in the same boat. We would live-or we would die-together. He might be killed in an accident, or he could die shortly of natural causes, but it would be foolish to count on such an eventuality. More likely the worst would happen: the simple passage of time, in which his animal toughness would easily outlast my human frailty. Only if I tamed him could I possibly trick him into dying first, if we had to come to that sorry business.

But there's more to it. I will come clean. I will tell you a secret: a part of me was glad about Richard Parker. A part of me did not want Richard Parker to die at all, because if he died I would be left alone with despair, a foe even more formidable than a tiger. If I still had the will to live, it was thanks to Richard Parker. He kept me from thinking too much about my family and my tragic circumstances. He pushed me to go on living. I hated him for it, yet at the same time I was grateful. I am grateful. It's the plain truth: without Richard Parker, I wouldn't be alive today to tell you my story.

I looked around at the horizon. Didn't I have here a perfect circus ring, inescapably round, without a single corner for him to hide in? I looked down at the sea. Wasn't this an ideal source of treats with which to condition him to obey? I noticed a whistle hanging from one of the life jackets. Wouldn't this make a good whip with which to keep him in line? What was missing here to tame Richard Parker? Time? It might be weeks before a ship sighted me. I had all the time in the world. Resolve? There's nothing like extreme need to give you resolve. Knowledge? Was I not a zookeeper's son? Reward? Was there any reward greater than life? Any punishment worse than death? I looked at Richard Parker. My panic was gone. My fear was dominated. Survival was at hand.

Let the trumpets blare. Let the drums roll. Let the show begin. I rose to my feet. Richard Parker noticed. The balance was not easy. I took a deep breath and shouted, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, hurry to your seats! Hurry, hurry. You don't want to be late. Sit down, open your eyes, open your hearts and prepare to be amazed. Here it is, for your enjoyment and instruction, for your gratification and edification, the show you've been waiting for all your life, The Greatest Show on Earth! Are you ready for the miracle of it? Yes? Well then: they are amazingly adaptable. You've seen them in freezing, snow-covered temperate forests. You've seen them in dense, tropical monsoon jungles. You've seen them in sparse, semi-arid scrublands. You've seen them in brackish mangrove swamps. Truly, they would fit anywhere. But you've never seen them where you are about to see them now! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, without further ado, it is my pleasure and honour to present to you: The Pi Patel, Indo-Canadian, Trans-Pacific, Floating Circuuuuussssssssssss!!!"

"Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee!"

I had an effect on Richard Parker. At the very first blow of the whistle he cringed and he snarled. Ha! Let him jump into the water if he wanted to! Let him try!

"Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee!"

He roared and he clawed the air. But he did not jump. He might not be afraid of the sea when he was driven mad by hunger and thirst, but for the time being it was a fear I could rely on.

"Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee! Treeeeee!"

He backed off and dropped to the bottom of the boat. The first training session was over. It was a resounding success. I stopped whistling and sat down heavily on the raft, out of breath and exhausted.

And so it came to be:

Plan Number Seven: Keep Him Alive.

第五十七章

    是理查德·帕克让我平静下来。这个故事的讽刺意叉在于，恰恰是开始把我吓得神经错乱的东西让我安静下来，给了我决心，我敢说甚至还让我变得健全。

    他正专注地看着我。过了一会儿，我想起了这种眼神，我是在这种眼神下长大的。这是一只感到满足的动物从笼子里或兽栏里往外看的眼神，就像你我美餐一顿以后开始聊天时坐在餐馆桌边往外看一样。显然理查德·帕克吃饱了鬣狗，喝足了雨水。他的嘴唇没有上下开合，牙齿没有露出来，咆哮声或吼叫声也没有发出来。他只是在注视我，观察我，样子严肃但没有威胁。他的耳朵不停地抽动，左右转动着脑袋。这些动作都非常像，嗯，一只猫。他看上去像一只可爱的又大又肥的家养的猫。一只450磅重的斑点猫。

    他发出一声声音，是从鼻孔里哼出来的。我竖起了耳朵。他又哼了一声。我很惊讶。他是在打招呼吗？

    老虎会发出各种不同的声音，包括各种咆哮声和吼叫声，最响亮的叫声很可能就是宏亮的嗷嗷声，这是交配季节雄虎和发情的雌虎发出的。这种叫声传得很远，在很大的范围内都能听到，在近处听绝对能让人惊呆。老虎出其不意地被撞见时会发出呜呜声，这是一种愤怒爆发的短促而尖利的叫声，会让你跳起来就跑，如果你的两条腿没有被吓得不能动弹的话。老虎发起攻击时，会发出低沉洪亮的咳嗽般的咆哮声。他们用来进行威胁的吼叫声是另一种喉咙里发出的粗嘎的声音。老虎还会发出嘶嘶声和嗥叫声，根据所表达的感情不同，这些声音昕上去或者像秋天的落叶在地上发出的沙沙声，但更响亮一些，或者，如果是愤怒的嗥叫，像一扇铰链生了锈的巨大的门在慢慢打开——两种情况下的叫声都让人脊椎骨发凉。老虎还会发出其他的声音。他们会发出咕噜声和呜咽声。他们会发出呼噜声，尽管不像小猫的叫声那么悦耳，也不像小猫那样经常这么叫，而只是呼气的时候才这样。（只有小猫才在呼气和吸气的时候都发出呼噜声。这是区分大型猫科动物和小型猫科动物的特征之一。另一个特征是大型猫科动物会咆哮。这是件好事。如果小猫咪也能用咆哮来表示不高兴，恐怕家养猫受欢迎的程度就会迅速降低了。）老虎甚至会喵喵叫，声调很像家养的猫，但声音更响，音域更低，不像猫叫那样让人有弯腰抱起它们的愿望。老虎还可能绝对地威严地保持沉默。

    在我成长的过程中，我听过所有这些声音。除了招呼声。我知道这种声音，那是因为父亲告诉过我。他在文献中读过关于这种声音的描述。但他只听到过一次，那是在因工作关系参观迈索尔邦动物园的时候，在他们的动物医院里，一只正在接受肺炎治疗的年轻雄性老虎发出了这种声音，就是从鼻子里喷气，表示友好和没有恶意的愿望。

    理查德·帕克又哼了一声，这次头也摇了起来。他那个样子就像在问我一个问题。

    我看着他，心里充满了带有敬畏的好奇。因为没有迫在眉睫的威胁，我的呼吸慢了下来，我的心不再在胸腔里乱撞，我开始恢复了感觉。

    我得驯服他。我就是在那一刻意识到这么做的必要性的。这不是他或我的问题，而是他和我的问题。无论是在真实的意义上还是在比喻的意义上，都可以说我们是在一条船上了。是活，还是死——我们都会在一起。也许他会死于意外，也许他很快就会死于自然原因，但是指望这样的可能性未免太愚蠢了。很可能最糟樵的事情会发生：仅仅随着时间的流逝，他动物的顽强会很轻易地战胜我人类的脆弱。我只有驯服他，才有可能使花招让他先死，如果我们不得不涉及这个伤心的话题的话。

    但是不仅如此。我说实话吧。我要告诉你一个秘密:一部分的我很高兴有理查德·帕克在；一部分的我根本不想让理查德.帕克死，因为如果他死了，我就得独自面对绝望，那是比老虎更加可怕的敌人。如果我还有生存的愿望，那得感谢理查德·帕克。是他不让我过多地去想我的家人和我的悲惨境况。他促使我活下去。我为此而恨他，但同时我又感激他。我的确感激他。这是显而易见的事实：没有理查德·帕克，我今天就不会在这儿给你讲这个故事了。

    我环顾地平线。难道这不是一个绝妙的马戏场吗——这儿到处都是圆的，没有一个角落可以让他躲藏。我低头看看海。难道这不是训练他听话要用的奖赏的理想来源吗？我看到一件救生衣上挂着的哨子。这不是防止他越轨的一根好鞭子吗？要驯服理查德·帕克还需要什么呢？时间？可能还要再过好几个星期才会有船发现我。我有的是时间。决心？没有什么能比极度的需要更能让你下定决心了。知识？难道我不是动物园主的儿子吗？回报？还有比生命更大的回报吗？还有比死亡更糟糕的惩罚吗？我看了看理查德·帕克。我的惊慌没有了。我的恐惧被控制住了。生存的希望近在咫尺。

    让喇叭啷啷地吹起来吧。让锣鼓咚咚地敲起来吧。让表演开始吧。我站了起来。理查德·帕克注意到了。保持平衡不容易。我深深吸了一口气，大声说道：“女士们先生们，小伙子们姑娘们，快到座位上去吧！快，快。你可不想迟到。坐下来，睁开眼睛，敞开心扉，准备接受惊奇吧。这儿是让你娱乐给你教育，让你满意给你启迪，让你等待了一生的世界上最了不起的表演！你已经准备好观看奇迹了吗？准备好了？那么：它们的适应能力强得令人吃惊。你在天寒地冻、大雪覆盖的温带森林里见过它们。你在茂密的热带季雨林里见过它们。你在土地贫瘠、半是荒凉的灌木丛林地里见过它们。你在略含盐分的红树沼泽地里见过它们。真的，它们在任何地方都可以生存。但是你从来没有在你马上就要看见的地方见过它们！女士们先生们，小伙子们姑娘们，我就不再罗嗦了，我非常高兴非常荣幸地向你们推出：派·帕特尔印度一加拿大跨太平洋海上马戏团?！！！“瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿

    ！瞿！瞿！”我对理查德·帕克造成了影响。就在第一声哨声响起的时候，他蜷缩起身体，咆哮起来。哈！要是他愿意的话，让他跳到水里去吧！让他试试看吧！“瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿！”他咆哮着，爪子在空中抓着。但是他没有跳。也许当他饿得发疯渴得发疯的时候，他会不怕大海，但是现在我相信他一定害怕。“瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿！瞿！”他后退回去，跌进了船底。第一次训练课结束了。这次课取得了巨大的成功。我停止吹哨子，重重地坐在小筏子上，气喘吁吁，筋疲力尽。

    因此我有了：

    七号方案：让他活着。