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Published: October 12th 2009
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Even the cows in Jaisalmer seem happy. These cows saunter along the quiet streets, playing (and always winning) the game of chicken with each on-coming car or bike or child, absent-mindedly nibbling trash or left-over food scrapes from each store front where bowls are placed in offering for the cows, and napping in a shaded patch of earth that was described as “cow parking.” This is clearly the good life for the Indian cow and these cows know it. They own the town. On two occasions, I am nearly run down by one of these blissful little cows. A long horned white cow had emerged from behind a motorcycle on the dark bazaar road at a good clip. I had stepped aside just in time--only to be greeted by a knowing chuckle from a shop keeper standing by.
Like every where else we have been in India, the cows here come in all shapes and sizes and varieties. I often find almost as much joy cow watching as I do people watching. “Look at that cow’s horns!” I will hear myself say to Pierce. And Pierce will correct, “Is that a cow? Or is that a water buffalo?” And we
will shrug--realizing that we don’t know our cattle. We begin to personify the cows. Pierce comments, “Look, those two cows look like they are about to make out” and I follow his pointed finger to two dairy cows softly chewing, face to face, with their dirty mouths inches apart.
As we drive, we often disturb each other from our books to point out interesting arrangements of cows along the roadside or cows in a kaleidoscope of colors. I am frequently jolted from a heat-induced nap to find a sea of cows surrounding our car and listen as Avtar honks wildly to pass each cow. The cows indignantly trot out of the way and let us through.
On the hectic Indian road it’s no small wonder that the sides are littered with animal carcasses--victims of careless drivers. Knowing that cows are holy animals in India, I ask Avtar what happens if someone runs over a cow. Avtar goes on to explain that the owner of the cow will become “a little bit aggressive” and the owner will try to fight with the driver. Avtar elaborates that the local people will also “be very aggressive” and sometimes even stage a
riot. A driver will be dragged from his or her car and the vehicle will be dismantled and burned right there on the street--backing up traffic for hours. Avtar classifies this as a “big big problem.”
When we arrive in Bikaner, I am again struck by the cows--the cows in Bikaner are fast. It is a strange to see these lazy animals running along side rickshaws and taxis--desperately trying to keep pace with big city life. The words “Look at that running cow” are said frequently as we drive along the busy streets.
The cows in places like Bikaner and in Jodphur may not be as blissful as their cow counterparts in Jaisalmer, but they are practically delirious compared to the cows in Delhi. The cows in Delhi are tired. As they saunter--heavy with the Delhi sky on their shoulders--from trash heap to trash heap they seem to sigh in deep resignation. They are resigned to the hectic life in Delhi, resigned to the continual soundtrack of honking and yelling, and resigned to eating trash from the gutter.
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Mom and Dad
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Cows like you have never seen them...
Quite a different life than the cows here, huh?