Slaughter.....

It happened a few days back. I was 15 minutes late to office. And in my standards, 15 minutes late is equal to 15 minutes since the super boss has arrived, and now the attendance register is in his room. So you got to enter his fortress in his observation, and sign the attendance register as he passes some sarcasm and a note, maybe. Moral of the story: Leave the taxi back in Jam, run like a horse, and reach the office sweating, possibly thinking excuses what made you late today to reach the office. Traffic Jam has nowadays become a cliché and is rarely accepted.

I left the taxi 1 km away from Beckbagan and decided to speed up through walking. I took an unknown path to reach the office. I was rushing, cursing and sweating. Given a chance, my immediate boss would love to feed me to super boss, provided he was a cannibal.

I suddenly stomped on a pile of cow dung. It was fresh cow dung. Soft like tart, warm like curry. (I really suck in explaining situations and comparing them, I know. But I enjoy tart and curry too. It’s just that I am a filthy moron, at times!!) Would it have been a rainy season, and had I been my ordinary self in leisure hours, I would have given it a smile and moved on. But this was Wednesday. Farthest from the past Sunday and the coming weekend. A day which has been rated: ‘the saddest day in a workers routine’.

The splash caused a scathe enough to mount my anger to its new heights. My pants were soiled. My shoes were dripping wet with filth. I was 20 minutes late now. And I was now going to be a minimum 40 minutes late. Bosses were surely going to shoot me down! The day was spoilt.

I cursed in the air: “Bloody %^&$#LES, someone kill the stray cows!!”

And this was the moment; I just realized where I was. This track I had chosen was a passing through mostly- Muslim settlement and I was specifically in the butcher’s lane; right mid-way. The cow I had cursed, was probably hanging right there, in front of me. She was drooping through a rope, upside down. Her head lay right beside her. She was surrounded with gat flies. She was shining as if made of plastic, and her skin was completely removed. Blood was still leaking through some pores.

The shit I had just impinged on; was maybe the last act of the petrified beast I had just cursed. I was stunned to notice. And penitent to the last-ditch.

There were more than 20 such shops. And more than 40 such beasts, goats, cows and buffaloes; hung there pleading to me, for forgiveness. Forgiveness, for a minor mistake of unmannered behaviour of losing their senses, just when the death approached them. The mistake, that should not be forgiven even after they have offered their meat, skin and bones; including their lives.

It was not the first time I had seen a dead animal up for sale. I myself have bought meat several times from the butcher market. But it definitely was the first time, my soul communicated to the soul of the thousand beasts slaughtered. I got to feel a small fraction of the pain they go through. I was completely moved.

The phone rang. It was boss on another side. “Piyush, where are you?? You know what is the time?? How many times will I have to tell you......”.

The boss can go to hell. I cut the line from my side. The next thing I was up to was taking a taxi back to home. I was done for the day. Be it a sick leave, or a loss of pay, I was going to share some good time with my soul.

Still what remains in my memoir is the head of the cow, still seeking forgiveness. I can never forget her eyes, neither the fact that you should never curse someone for causing harm to you. You never know what it might have gone through before laying shit on your path.

I don’t know a baby who was evil or jealous by birth. He gradually grew into one, in a process to adjust and succeed among us large-hearted humans.

Sometimes, it really amazes me to witness that I have everything I will ever need. It’s right here in this world. All I will have to do is exploiting it from a fellow human or Mother Nature. Both have ample to offer, it’s all up to my greed. What are we, if not a parasite??

Regards,

Sakht Jaani