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Letter to pigeon P

Your last letter had interesting news
I will try to answer for you
The information you give, I need to chew
There is a hungry cow on the block to feed too
I don't eat cows as I am Hindu
Hindus do not kill cows as you know
But they do get hungry, both cow and sow
When I see them near my milk booth, I feel low.

Long ago we had six healthy cows
In our shed they had a safehouse
Every six months, a bull would visit
To end the merriment, we pulled him by ropes tied to his horn
This is how the bull was thrown into the street
So that calves could be born in peace
So that calves could be licked
So that calved could get their milk
If another bull was found, he was sure to be turned out
For he left us sleepless and had no clout
Bulls never went to the backfield
Where the cows went for their daily feed
I saw the bull from my lookout 
Walking the street up and down
His calves were in my shed at the far corner of the lawn
Kept licking his nose as he smelt his milky calves
Twenty years later he was still walking my street
A lone bull, without his fleet
The smell of milk kept his peace
Only after his senses were filled could he fall asleep
The bull was delicate as silk
Other strong bulls were made to pull a cart
In our house they got milk
And a yearly release to get a taste of love's feel
Only once, after the calves were grown, did he kill
A woman he saw out in the lane
She was new mother returning from the mill
Her breasts were full, laden and smelling of milk.

Here is no moralizing or whining
Only commonness of common sense revealed by tale-telling
To explain why, to our house came learned Brahmins
Your question, P, has to wait a day for answering.

Copyright © Vidya Raghunathan | Year Posted 2018


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