Holy Cow! Guys you’ve messed it all up.

Yest 8.50 AM

We were getting super late for school, as there was this massive traffic jam, a bovine road block which refused to budge an inch even under the blaring attack of a cacophony of car horns. “Stray Cows!” Shrieked my 6 year old with joy at the site and sheer numbers of his favourite animal. “Shhh, only dogs are stray cows aren’t” I said. “So do they have a shelter or something? Or are they out on a morning walk?” He asked, innocently gazing at the Goumatas chewing  leisurely on a cud of waste paper and discarded polytene bags.

Today 6.0 AM

I rushed into the Yogpeeth to this whole lot of women of variable shapes, clad in Salwar Kameez of varied sizes, heaving with respiratory distress at a TV screen displaying this trichologycaly well endowed gentleman, India’s masculine answer to the Arabian Belly dancers, urging​ his “mataye and behene” to follow suit. “I feel so invigorated after Yoga. Only this little bit of belly fat (pointing and pinching at a thick fold of lardy adipose tissue) remains to be shed, said a rather rotound female. “Oh I have a perfect remedy for you, One teaspoon of gaumutra three times a day and then see how this fat melts, its good for your skin and hair too. Even babaji swears by this one”.( No wonder he has this lustrous mane) said a newly slim companion of the first one.

Gaumutra has become an Elixir. It is that “Har marz ki ek dawa”. From antimicrobial to antiseptic like Phenyl (Gaunyl= Gaumutra+ Phenyl) Goumata takes care of everything. Gaumutra is said to be a single remedy for all ailments from the futile to the fateful.

It is also said to be an instant mood elevator. Imagine your man, sparys himself with a generous amount of Gaumutra, takes a sip or two of it and walks towards you with passion in his eyes. Ewwww.

Evening 7.0 PM

We had been invited to dinner at the Uthup’s. The amazing Beef Vindaloo and Beef fry that they make are a speciality to die for. I being the only herbivore, was made me to pledge to an oath, not to divulge the details of the menu that they served. As my friends relished the succulent beef with a bit fear lurking at the back of their minds, I realised that times have definitely changed. What we cook in our hearths and put into our mouths is no longer a private affair. There is this whole lot of self appointed vigilants out there who make us give in to their morality and their interpretation of Dharma. Whether we like it or not.

Home 9.0 PM

Came back home to a weeping son, who needed me to help him with his homework. An essay on “The Cow”. Each and every one of us at some point of time has written this essay in some language or the other. I remember writing one in Hindi titled “Gai Hamari Mata Hai”. This humble animal has been around since time immemorial, but she has suddenly become hot property. I actually feel sorry for this Gai’s Guy, Mr Bull. Poor fellow works so hard, tills our land and even lays down his life for that exquisite pair of patent leather shoes, (Never come across a Gau Bhakt In Rubber Hawai Chappals… Ironic) but no one gives a dung for him, irony again.

So my champ dictates me his essay. “Cow is my favourite animal. She has 4 legs, 2 horns and a tail. She gives us milk, cheese and Chocolate. She eats all day and goes Moooo…” I imagine her , putting her hoof down saying, “Mooojhe Maaf Karo. Not in my name.