In the intricate tapestry of philosophical cinema, Ship of Theseus has stood out for its compelling story that challenges viewers to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of identity, ethics, and existence.
At the core of this cinematic gem lies an ending that reverberates with profound ambiguity, leaving much room for different interpretations and debates. Calling it an intellectually stimulating film isn’t wrong, but is there more to the script than meets the eye? Let’s discuss.
Consider yourself warned: Spoilers Ahead!
Table of Contents
But First… What is the Ship of Theseus Paradox?
Imagine you have a ship — let’s call it “Ship A”— and over time, some parts of it get old or break. So, you replace those parts with new ones.
It’s still the same ship, right? There’s no reason to view it as a new “entity” despite it having undergone some changes.
But what if you keep replacing things, one by one, until every single part is new?
Is it still Ship A? Or has it morphed into something totally new (let’s call it Ship B).
In other words, can you confidently say that Ship A = Ship B? Are the two even equivalent? Which is now the “real” ship?
In an oversimplification, this is the Ship of Theseus paradox.
It asks a simple yet inherently confounding question: how much change is too much change before a thing/person transforms into something new?
Ship of Theseus Plot Overview
This Anand Gandhi film focuses on three distinct people — a photographer named Aaliya, a monk who advocated for animal rights (Maitreya), and Navin, a charismatic stockbroker whose life takes an unexpected turn when he undergoes a kidney transplant.
As the three of them go through life and come face to face with some unexpected challenges, their entire notions of identity, virtues, morality, and interconnectedness in today’s world turn upside down.
Ship of Theseus Ending
There are two big patterns that stood out in the story to me:
- Each character has to make real yet emotionally heavy medical decisions, from eye surgery to a kidney transplant, implying that big life decisions are great catalysts for change.
- Their notions about the world and themselves are challenged throughout their journey. What is right? What is wrong? How are we connected to the world? What does our existence even mean? All this and more come up throughout the film.
With each character, the stakes get more intense, causing the audience to truly ponder over circumstances and challenge their own preconceived notions.
So, with these two broad points in mind, let’s take a thorough look at each character’s individual story first.
What Happens to Aaliya?
Aaliya, upon getting her eyesight back, starts feeling like she is taking mediocre photos.
In a weird way, being blind was her superpower — at least in her head. She thinks it was because, not in spite, of her disability that people resonated with her art.
So, when she gets her sight back, she starts doubting her actual abilities, especially since she feels compelled to produce “better” photos now that she can see. This cycle continues… only to get repeatedly (and obsessively) disappointed in herself.
A sort of madness takes over her, with her even wearing eye masks and blindfolds in a few scenes to recreate her previous state.
In an attempt to reconnect with her inner photographer, she travels to the mountains and tries to click more pictures. But when she sits on top of a stream and just enjoys the moment, she seems to have found what she is looking for.
As such, Aaliya has undergone significant change, both physically and emotionally, and has emerged with a different perception at the end of her ordeal.
Maybe before her surgery, photography was something she needed to interact with the world. lt certainly helped her cope, and she was breaking barriers with her work as a blind photographer. This was her identity; it defined her art.
After her surgery, she sees and processes things in a different manner. This, in turn, is reflected in her photography, and that is what bothers her for the longest time. (After all, saying that art imitates life is a cliche for a reason).
The change in her life as well as her photography is a big one, and it proves to be a bit difficult for her to cope with such a major change (as is often the case). At the same time, any artist knows that change is fundamental to their work, and that the ebb and flow of it all is quite natural.
These “planks” that have changed in Aaliya’s ship cause a great identity crisis, even when regaining her eyesight is a positive thing. In other words, change doesn’t always need to be bad to be bring up difficult emotions.
Besides, what is the true nature of art if not subjective?
Does Maitreya Die?
No, Maitreya the monk — despite his many reservations and beliefs — does not end up dying despite the close brush.
Despite resigning to his fate at one point, something makes Maitreya makes him realise he is not ready to die. The last conversation Maitreya has with Charvaka is also very interesting, particularly because it beautifully challenges the argument for free will.
Charvaka talks about a particular type of fungus that can take over an ant’s sense of smell for the sake of food, shelter, and reproduction. The law student asks the monk if such a small spore can change the ant’s entire reality without the creature ever realising it, “How do you know where you end and where your environment begins?”
Then, at another point, when a devotee later asks Maitreya whether souls are real, the latter says he doesn’t know.
Hence, Maitreya seems to begin questioning the “correctness” of his own beliefs. (After all, the fact of the matter is that humans don’t know what they don’t know, and who knows what all we still don’t know).
One should also note that Maitreya’s story juxtaposes two contrasting Indian philosophies next to each other: that of the Jain sect as well as the Charvaka school of thought. (Yes, the law student is actually named after an ancient Indian belief system). While Jainism has some of the more “traditional” elements such as soul, karma, etc., Charvaka philosophy rejects these notions and posits that reality is that which can be percieved.
This story has a bit of a “the yin within the yang” vibe going on. A case in point: some of the core beliefs in Jainism include non-violence and anekantavada (which allows for reality to exist from multiple perspectives). Ironically, Maitreya ends up harming himself by refusing to take medication because of his condemnation of the pharma industry. But in the end, the law student espouses Charvaka ideas that finally convince Maitreya to consider new perspectives and get the help he needs.
Besides, should the devout monk really be sacrificing his own self to make a statement that will likely have no impact on the workings of large, evil corporations? Can he not do more when he is healthy and alive, like taking them to court and setting a certain precedent?
Maitreya is at a life-threatening crossroads, and only animal-tested medicine — made by the people he hates a lot — can save him. While he initially chooses to stand his ground and not compromise at all, he later deciphers a new perspective for his reality and accepts that he is not ready to die.
What Happens to Navin?
Fortunately for Navin, the kidney he received was not harvested from Shankar; it had actually been donated.
However, Shankar’s kidney was sold to a Swedish man for a heck of a lot of money. When questioned about taking advantage of Shankar’s poverty, the “gora” turns the table on them and starts talking about his own guilt instead.
In fact, the Swede initially makes a very self-victimising and irksome speech about the entire ordeal. Still, what the white man says is inherently correct — most people in such a life-or-death situation would have made a similar choice. And it really does seem like the guilt plagues him… despite the harsh truth that money was the ultimate factor in this whole situation.
As it so turned out, the Swede gives Shankar Rs. 6.5 lakhs. Later on, when Navin says they will go to court and get justice, more money, and his kidney back, Shankar gets upset instead.
From a poor man’s perspective, it is not hard to see why Shankar would be willing to accept the Swede’s financial solution. After all, for someone who has only ever seen financial hardships, getting some stability is naturally more important for Shankar than getting his kidney back. What’s done is done, and at least this way, Shankar can provide for his family.
On the other hand, given that Navin is a stockbroker who can afford a lot more than Shankar, it makes sense that for Navin, health is more important than money.
So, anyone watching the Ship of Theseus gets immersed in this moral grey area that stays on one’s mind for a while.
Even Navin, for that matter, is frustrated with the outcome.
But his grandmom tells him that Shankar’s life is better today because Navin decided to take some action and at least try to right the wrongs in the world.
Sometimes, that is all one can do.
You… and the Ship of Theseus
The film is all about furthering metaphysical philosophy and paradoxes that are abundant in life but are very difficult to deal with in reality.
As such, it seems the larger intent of Ship of Theseus is to truly impact its viewers, and the mental changes that the audience goes through as the story progresses is truly where the spirit of the film lies.
Barring special circumstances, the one thing that will largely impact you after watching Ship of Theseus is its ideology and how it either aligns with — or contradicts — your own.
The story’s emotional depth allows you, as the viewer, to undergo a philosophical metamorphosis from the comfort of (wherever you’re watchnig this film). Difficult thoughts and ideas compound, and towards the end, you’re left wondering about your own philosophy, your own worldviews, and your own reality.
Pay attention to how your thoughts evolve once you’re done watching this film.
Are you still the same person you were before you saw Ship of Theseus?
What is the Allegory of the Cave?
Imagine you’re imprisoned in a cave, along with other people. You can’t move your head to see behind/around you. Unbeknownst to you, there’s a bright light source (like a fire) behind you, and it makes shadows of things on the wall in front of you.
Initially, you will think that these shadows are the “real” deal because it’s all you’ve ever seen… It’s all you’ve ever known.
But now, assume that for some reason, you have been released and can see around the cave, even leaving it eventually, exposing you to things like the sunlight and nature.
Since your eyes are accustomed to the dark, they may hurt initially before they adjust to the sun. However, once that pain subsides, you will see many other wonderful things that you weren’t able to before.
In other words, you were constrained by your circumstances, and that, in turn, led to your world views remaining incomplete without you even realising it.
What Does This Allegory Have to do With the Film?
The climax of Ship of Theseus shows us the donor leaving a cave, which indicates that he has “seen the light,” so to say, and how his beliefs have been shaped and moulded over his life. In death, it seems he acknowledges how “little” he knew.
We know the donor is dead, and we know that three other people have benefitted from his existence. Yet, we don’t know much else about this mysterious donor, and that’s okay.
What we do see is our three protagonists viewing this clip of the donor coming out of the cave, which serves to validate all the pain and anguish they have felt as they changed. Despite their reservations about art, life, medicine, animal rights, abuse, power dynamics, and whatnot, the three characters have also emerged from their ordeals as different people.
Yet, watching the donor climb out of the cave and into the sunlight is a very poetic form of closure for them.
Not only do the characters seem to realise that they are no longer the same person they were (at the beginning), but the allegory also works for those in the audience whom the story resonated with deeply enough to spark something…deeper in them.
