A place called India

"Close your eyes and think of India"

A place called India

 

One day an old cow of about eight years came to our farm just by chance…  When I say just by chance, it means that I really have no idea how she happened to come.  It’s not that the Farmer doesn’t talk to me.  He usually talks to me as we walk from the stable to the meadow every day.   Sometimes he talks about his son and sometimes about all the people he knows and cares about.   But when the old cow showed up He didn’t say a thing, he just opened the gate and let her walk in one day when I was at the other side of the meadow.

 

Wanting to do the proper and courteous thing, I began walking slowly towards her and by the time I was near, the Farmer was already heading back to the farmhouse.  When I got close, she said a shy “Hello” as I came to a stop with my nose a few feet from hers.  Her big brown eyes had a familiar sparkle to them and before I got into trouble I remembered that she had been a heifer right here in my meadow some six or seven years ago.  We exchanged some small talk and I am sure that she didn’t realize that I had not immediately remembered her.

 

There were three two year old Heifers together at the other side of the meadow but they didn’t seem to pay attention or care that I was talking to the older cow.  “It’s been a long time.” She said as she continued to look at me with her captivating brown eyes.  “It looks like you have been kept pretty busy here at the farm,” she remarked as she glanced up at the three heifers.

 

“I’ve been OK” I said pawing the ground nervously with my left hoof.  “But tell me how you have been since you left.”

 

“I’ve been all right I guess.  I have birthed six calves since I left here, but I think my calving days are ending and it’s getting time to retire.”

 

“I know what you mean” I said “well I mean I don’t really know what it’s like to have a calf, but I know what you mean about retiring.”  Then the urge became too much to control and I glanced at the three heifers, who were grazing and not paying attention to us at all.  I tried to keep from pawing the ground and my left hoof just sort of quivered.  I don’t think she noticed, so I said “so tell me about what you have been doing.”

 

“There is an interesting story I heard at the last farm I was at.”  She said.  “There is this place apparently where we Bovines are treated like gods!”  She went on to tell me that a cow four years older than her had told her the story just before it had died.  “As you know” she went on “we are abused and treated like slaves in most parts of the world.”

 

This was pretty much news to me as my life here at the farm had always been very good and I had never given much thought to what happened to the heifers and calves after they left.

 

“They take away our calves and our milk, they castrate most of our males and many of us they fatten up and then kill so they can eat us.”  She went on.  “In some places they ride us and kill us for sport as thousands of them watch us die as they cheer the humans who kill us.”

 

I had had suspicions over the years about what the farmers did with us, but my Farmer had always been kind to me and seemed to treat the cows and heifers well.  The life of our kind, as she described it, was a lot tougher than I had ever imagined it to be.

 

“…but there is a place,” she said looking at me with those big brown sparkling eyes “called India where our kind are treated just as if we were the most important beings in the world.”  “For several years now,” she added, “I have told everyone I meet about India and tell them that when they are about to be milked or abused or even killed that they should just shut their eyes and think of India.  Even when we are not being abused, and just standing in a meadow like we are now, we can just close our minds and pretend we are in India.”

 

This all seemed pretty good to me, but I don’t know if I believed that such a beautiful place called India really existed.  The idea of faith is pretty vague, and I am a bull that needs to see something with my own eyes to believe it.   My Farmer, who talks about a place humans call Heaven, often uses the word faith when He talks about it to me.  But I get the idea that He has seen that place with his own eyes and believes that it exists.  I don’t ever talk to the Farmer with a voice, but he seems to understand my thoughts.

 

As the old cow walked off to another corner of the meadow to graze, one of the heifers began walking towards me stopping when our noses were about 18 inches apart.   Her big brown eyes were just as pretty as those of the old cow who had just educated me about India.  “Have you ever heard of India” I said nervously pawing the ground with my left hoof as I always do around the young heifers.

 

“Why no, I haven’t.”  The two year old answered.  “But I’ll close my eyes, so I can visualize it, while you tell me all about it.  Is that where she’s from?” She asked casting a glance at the old cow now grazing in the corner of the meadow before closing her eyes.

 

“No,” I said, “but I think that’s where she is going!”

 

 

Reviews

[...]

... ah ... it seems like i am the first indian to be commenting on this story ... fascinating ... the thought ... the references ... the rendition ... i really didn't think that this could be one of the perspectives that someone in the west could possibly have about india ... so ... the element of surprise was definitely there ... a great read ... i am tempted to see what i'd write if i was given the same topic ... hence an inspirational read too ...

[Gandré]

In my opinion, this is a very good story, and I adore India and the eastern thought anyway, such a birth place of wisdom it is. You are really a skillful writer, in my opinion you write in beautifully clear language, and you are opening our minds towards mysteries of India, and there are many associations occurring when thinking of India; within the honest people, healthy and sane, that like the psychic manifestations of Indian yogism and their ancient scriptures translated from Sanskrit, and who are open towards another cultures and seek their meaning. I love it.

[Xyve rrg]

By chance I happened to drift again into this write-up and I must write how I have been so stupid before not to grasp the depth of this story. This time, I have seen humans and heaven beyond bulls and heifers and India. Wow. I really love the metaphor. I shall think of India when times get tough. And when my time comes, I hope to be there!
Absolutely great write! The flow is smooth and the message is beautiful.

[Doctor JKC]

I lived in India for a year, mostly at ashrams, and the cows were attended to and feed a special diet prescribed in one of the Vedas that takes hours to prepare.
Their milk was delicious and used in the morning fresh and the afternoon in the chai. then in the evening meal as buttermilk with the option of heaps of sugar stirred in.
They say it takes lifetimes as lesser spirits to incarnate as a a cow in India and not far from receiving a human body like some dogs and cats.
They had a feeling and intelligence; more of a knowing. Completely different than my slight experience with the Western sort.
With great respect,
Dr. Callaghan

[Samantha]

I really like this story, but the way it starts out seems a little akward. It "One day....." Is a little over used, these days. Maybe you could find another way to begin the story? Other than that I loved it. It actually reminded me of all of those little cartoon movies with the cows, like barnyard and home on the range. =]=]

[Phibby Venable]

i loved this story & the ending is perfect.

[Amber Nicole]

I really enjoyed reading this story. A sort of calm washes over you when reading it, leaving a small smile gracing your face. It truly is a sweet tale. The only problem I had was it left me wanting more. It would be even better if you wrote a prequel to this. It could document the life the old cow has had and how she came to know about India. Then, it could end with her journey, finally going home to her heaven, to India.