|main menu | youngsters categories | authors | new stories | search | links | settings | author tools|
|Holy Cow and My Tale (standard:other, 2760 words)|
|Author: Juggernaut||Added: Nov 20 2010||Views/Reads: 1764/1099||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A tale about holy cow in a Hindu land.|
Holy Cow By Subba Rao As the symbol of Lord Krishna (one of the incarnations of Hindu Gods), the cow is considered sacred. Growing up in India, I saw cows roaming the streets all the time. A few times, I even stepped on fresh cow dung piles when not attentive while walking to school. I had the habit of watching the colorful movie posters, palm readers, fortunetellers, people hawking medicinal herbs and other knick-knacks on the sidewalk, and ignoring the upcoming traffic. While rickshaws pulled away from me to prevent accidents, the roaming animals didn't care. Once, a woman pulled me away from a bull about to lift me with its horns. I could have walked on the sidewalk but then beggars and hawkers permanently occupied it. Besides the animals have the right-of-way on sidewalks as well. On streets, both cows and goats compete to feed on banana peels, waste papers, and movie wall posters. Cows always won since they are taller, and with their far-reaching tongues somehow unglue the posters from the wall and ate, eyes closed, with great satisfaction. The glue containing rice or wheat flour made posters more palatable. Thirty years later, working in the recycling business in Unites States, I realized that perhaps the street-roaming cows in India did a better job in recycling waste paper than modern technologies. A bull and a bunch of cows belonged to our neighbor Mr. Panda permanently occupied a piece of land at our street corner. Panda is a common last name of people who emigrated from a neighboring Province of Orissa. Panda made his living by selling betel leaves and milk from his cows. Growing betel leaves is a big business in India. From betel-growing areas, fresh cut leaves are exported to various parts of the country. Every morning, Panda picked up his consignment of fresh betel or paan leaves from the railway or bus station for distribution to local roadside kiosks or paan shops. Paan or killi, as is known in South India, is made by placing ground areca nut (harvested from the areca tree, which looks like a palm tree), a little bit of lime, and sweet-tasting essence of rose on one or two betel leaves, then the whole mixture is folded into a conical shaped paan or sweet paan. Folding a paan is an art and takes less than five seconds for an expert paan maker or paan wallah to make it. People chew paan as a stimulant after lunch or dinner for good digestion. The added lime in the paan would release alkaloids in the leaves, this I later learned in college. To get additional kick, ground tobacco is added, on request, then it is called jaradha paan. Some people chew paan all the time, it's a kind of addiction. I have tried sweet paan but never jaradha paan. One of our distant relatives Shivarao had a habit of chewing jaradha paan. He visited us once in a blue moon, unannounced. I am sure he was named after Lord Shiva (God of Destruction), one of the Major Hindu gods. While Gods Vishnu and Brahma were believed to be stationary in Swarga Loka or heaven, Shiva is a roaming god who lives on earth, famous for wild dancing after the destruction of evil forces with his firepower. He is a kind of a lightening that causes forest fires that destroys dead wood. He then rubs the ashes on his skin. In our extended family circles, parents warned their children never to end up like our relative Shivarao, known for roaming from place to place. A low-level civil servant in a town a few hundred miles away, Shivarao traveled on trains with no ticket, masquerading as either a singing panhandler or hawking knick-knacks. My father never liked him. He suspected that Shivarao was after something every time he visited us. A habitual small-time thief, he stole small articles such as ballpoint pens, small toys, and other knick-knacks. Given my good eye for detective work, I was given the responsibility of following him in our huge house. Shivarao knew that we suspected his intentions in our house, and said this to me when I followed him from room to room. One thing I liked about Shivarao was his habit of chewing spicy Jaaradha paan. One day I gathered enough courage to ask for a taste. To my surprise, he gave it with a warning that I should keep this as a Click here to read the rest of this story (186 more lines)
Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Juggernaut has 237 active stories on this site.
Profile for Juggernaut, incl. all stories