From a Novel "Life of Pi"

~ by Samir Selmanovic

I have been reading Life of Pi, a novel by Yann Martel that deserves all the praise it has been getting since it came out in 2001. I could not resist sharing this passage with you, even at the risk of doing so without checking whether I need a permission from the publisher. 

Main character, boy named Piscine Patel, grew up with his non-religious and pragmatic parents in India. Without their knowledge he developed a relationship with the local spiritual leaders and became a Christian, a Muslim, and a Hindu. The problem was that the priest, the imam, and the pandit did not know about the other two. Until Piscine's father invited all three of them for a meeting in Patel home (p. 66):

    My parents, the priest and the pandit looked incredulous.
    The pandit spoke. “You’re both wrong. He’s a good Hindu boy. I see him all the time at the temple coming for darshan and performing puja.”
    My parents, the imam and the priest looked astounded.
    “There is no mistake,” said the priest. “I know this boy. He is Piscine Molitor Patel and he’s a Christian.”
    “I know him too, and I tell you he’s a Muslim,” asserted the imam.
    “Nonsense!” cried the pandit. “Piscine was born  a Hindu, lives a Hindu and will die a Hindu!”
    The three wise men stared at each other, breathless and disbelieving.
    Lord, avert their eyes from me, I whispered in my soul.
    All eyes fell upon me.
    “Piscine, can this be true?” asked the imam earnestly. “Hindus and Christians are idolaters. They have many gods.”
    “And Muslims have many wives,” responded the pandit.
    The priest looked askance at both of them. “Piscine,” he nearly whispered, “there is salvation only in Jesus.”
    “Balderdash! Christians know nothing about religion,” said the pandit.
    “They strayed long ago from God’s path,” said the imam.
    “Where’s God in your religion?” snapped the priest. “You don’t have a single miracle to show for it. What kind of religion is that, without miracles?”
    “It isn’t a circus with dead people jumping out of tombs all the time, that’s what! We Muslims stick to the essential miracle of existence. Birds flying, rain falling, crops growing—these are miracles enough for us.”
    “Feathers and rain are all very nice, but we like to know that God is truly with us.”

“Is that so? Well, a whole lot of good it did God to be with you—you tried to kill him! You banged him to a cross with great big nails. Is that a civilized way to treat a prophet? The prophet Muhammad—peace be upon him—brought us the word of God without any undignified nonsense and died at a ripe old age.”
    “The word of God? To that illiterate merchant of yours in the middle of the desert? Those were drooling epileptic fits brought on by the swaying of his camel, not divine revelation. That, or the sun frying his brains!”
    “If the Prophet—p.b.u.h.—were alive, he would have choice words for you,” replied the imam, with narrowed eyes.
    “Well, he’s not! Christ is alive, while your old ‘p.b.u.h.’ is dead, dead, dead!”
    The pandit interrupted them quietly. In Tamil he said, “The real question is, why is Piscine dallying with these foreign religions?”
    The eyes fo the priest and the imam properly popped out of their heads. They were both native Tamils.
    “God is universal,” spluttered the priest.
    The imam nodded strong approval. “There is only one God.”
  “And with their god Muslims are always causing troubles and provoking riots. The proof of how bad Islam is, is how uncivilized Muslims are,” pronounced the pandit.
    “Says the slave-driver of the caste system,” huffed the imam.
“Hindus enslave people and worship dressed-up dolls.”
    “They are golden calf lovers. They kneel before cows,” the priest chimed in.
  “While Christians kneel before a white man! They are the flunkies of foreign god. They are the nightmare of all non-white people.”
    “And they eat pigs and are cannibals,” added the imam for good measure.
    “What is comes down to,” the priest put out with cool rage, “is whether Piscine wants real religion—or myths from a cartoon strip.”
    “God—or idols,” intoned the imam gravely.
    “Our gods—or colonial gods,” hissed the pandit.
    It was hard to tell whose face was more inflamed. It looked as if they might come to blows.
  Father raised his hands. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!” he interjected. “I would like to remind you there is freedom of practice in this country.”
    Three apoplectic faces turned to him.
    “Yes! Practice—singular!” the wise men screamed in unison. Three index fingers, like punctuation marks, jumped to attention in the air to emphasize the point.
    They were not pleased at the unintended choral effect of the spontaneous unity of their gestures. Their fingers came down quickly, and they sighed and groaned each on his own. Father and Mother stared on, at a loss for words.
    The pandit spoke first. “Mr. Patel, Piscine’s piety is admirable. In these troubled times it’s good to see a boy so keen on God. We all agree on that.” The imam and priest nodded. “But he can’t be a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim. It’s impossible. He must choose.”
    “I don’t think it’s a crime, but I suppose you’re right,” Father replied.
  The three murmured agreement and looked heavenward, as did Father, whence they felt the decision must come. Mother looked at me.
    A silence fell heavily on my shoulders.
    “Hmmm, Piscine?” Mother nudged me. “How do you feel about the question?”
    “Bapu Gandhi said, ‘All religions are true.’ I just want to love God,” I blurted out, and looked down, red in the face.
    My embarrassment was contagious. No one said anything.

    … you can’t reprimand a boy for wanting to love God.

    … Father looked at me for a second, as if to speak, then thought better, said, “Ice cream, anyone?”

Comments

[David Oceguera]

I wonder what the world would look like if we all came to the conclusion that all we were seeking was a way to love God? It's a shame that whenever we assert the God of our particular faith group as being the only real way to experience God, what we are really doing is limiting the God of the universe to a role that is very limiting, and exclusive. I always hoped God would be bigger than that though. This post has provided much food for thought.

[Justin]

I'm generally hesitant to recommend a book to another person, even a close friend. But this book is exceptional. Many books have an engaging plot, character, and beautiful prose. But how many books promise "a story that will make you believe in God"? I was puzzled by that statement reading chapter after chapter--until the end. It's a book you want to read without knowing too much more, so you too can be surprised and dazzled. Hurry before the movie version inevitably comes out.

[Bowie]

Samir - I also loved this movie and forgot to tell you yesterday that George's brother lives in Pondicherry and worked on Tourism for the gov't when this book came out... which, as you can imagine, brought in a few tourists :-)

This really is a small world. - Bowie

[Elisa]

I've heard a lot about this book, but I was sceptical. Now I actually want to read it.

[Sam]

The excerpt is very thought provoking. I now have another book on my list to read. It was kind of interesting to go through the conversation. I often would get confused with who was talking - the imam, priest, or the pandit - because the accusations can often go both ways. Patel said that all he wanted to do was to love God. I wonder if that means he wants to love his fellow man as well. That too would be wonderful if the world thought that way.