Playing truant for a holy cause

My friend’s ingenuity in finding time to feed the unattended bovine at home amidst his daughter’s marriage celebrations moved me and rekindled my regard for the holy cow.

I had dropped from Delhi well in advance at the marriage venue, a sprawling lawn in the sylvan, hilly Nangal town of Punjab along Sutlej River. My friend Dr Chhabba, a veterinarian by temperament, education and profession, belonged to Santokhgarh, some 8 km to the West across State border in Himachal. The bridal side chose groom’s hometown for celebrations due to enough space and proximity to market.

With keen eye & ear for animals, Dr Chhabba could tell the age of a cow just with a glance. Despite his wide reputation as a silent worker shunning lime light and factionalism in state veterinary department he served for over three decades, he was conferred several honours for his outstanding performance. In an era when lobbying and favouritism for awards are the norm, he had proved that real work speaks aloud.

His family owned a cow with Dr Chhabba as main care taker since his aging mother and working wife could not take up this arduous job. The trying times came when he was posted on distant locations for two years. For a while he considered disposing of the cow but honouring his mother’s sentiments to somehow retain it, he chose to exert harder for upkeep of cow by starting his day at 4 a.m. beginning with cow care.

As darkness was enveloping the hilly town, the Baraat arrived earlier than scheduled. While the snacks were being served, Dr Chhabba observed something amiss. All the members of a neighbouring family who had promised to feed the cow behind were here relishing the varietal snacks. The cow had remained unfed for sure! Within seconds he hastened towards the exit of enclosure. At my query he said. “These fellows had to join the party only after some of us relieved them yet all of them are already here, so I must move back. Everything is in order here and the rituals shall take not less than two hours to commence.” I volunteered to join him for the noble cause.

After reaching Santokhgarh, 15-minute undulating drive on bumpy road, the bride’s father first caressed the cow looking lonesome today, gave her the much needed water, changed his dress, cleaned the dung, washed the floor, cut the fodder to pieces with my help and affectionately offered it to the hungry Mother cow. He milked the cow and handed over the milk container to next door neighbour.

We were back from errand in an hour and half. “A great task done”, I said. Dr Chhabba quipped complacently, “God brought the Baraatis before time to let us tend to the Mother cow.”

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