The paradox of the holy cow

Every now and then a stranger, usually a poor migrant in ragged clothes, will turn up in the village towing a colourful cow. Not an ordinary cow. This one is decked up like a bride in mirror work and embroidered cloths, her horns decorated in ribbons, with gold tassels hanging from the tips.

The other day one such stranger turned up, playing the shehnai and adding a touch of festivity to the occasion. He was tall and dark and handsome, and looked like a rogue, but the shehnai, which he played well, made him seem more mysterious: a down-and-out musician perhaps? With him were a daughter and wife. They lseemed like beggars, dressed in unwashed rags and with that grimy look of those used to living on the pavement. The cow looked magnificent in contrast, even though its clothes were somewhat faded.

What surprised me most was the reaction of the villagers. My nearest neighbour Nirmala rushed out of her house and bowed low before the cow with folded palms. A quick aarti was performed solemnly on the road. The cow stood passively as cows do. As the man towed the cow from house to house, playing his shehnai, others came out. All offered money or a handful of rice or some old clothes, which the woman and the little girl received eagerly in a soiled piece of cloth. The man clearly was not from any temple. He looked as if he'd borrowed the cow to earn some money. Yet everyone offered alms as they would to any holy man. Even Christina, who is no Hindu, gave old clothes. I guess it's not called a cash cow for nothing.

A few days later in the market, the cow was yet again the centre of attraction, but this time the villagers responded very differently. It was the weekly market day and some villagers were squatting on the ground with vegetables piled in small heaps before them. Cows love market day. It's a lovely change from rummaging around in garbage. And they turned up as they always do, and wandered through the market nosing the tomatoes and cauliflowers and cabbages and quickly gobbling up whatever they could. Shoo! Scat! Go away! – the villagers shouted. And laughing and shouting they drove the cows away.

I guess the cows were not dressed for the occasion this time.