Eid-ul-Adha: A cow's account

My name is Rani. I was bought up and cared for at a farm in Gujranwala. In the farm, I had no worries, only pressure to produce more milk. The farmer, Fazal-din, was a kind-hearted person and treated all of us with love. My life was full of all sorts of luxuries and comforts a cow could have. I was allowed to stroll all over the farm, to graze in the lush green meadows and to eat as much grass as I wanted to. I could lie in the hot, Punjab sun for simply as long as I wanted to and only at night would the farmer collect all of us and lock us up in the barn. And none of us minded that, let me assure you.  The sight of the heavy padlock, and the sound of Fazal-din’s heavy snores- which echoed in the barn at night- gave us a deep sense of security. Those were the days, let me tell you.

It was only in September that I entered the world outside the farm. And I discovered it was a greedy world. A world full of envy, jealousy, and deception.  The people here were hateful and despised each other. This world was a totally different place, not at all like the one inside our farm.

I was loaded into a truck by the rough hands of two buyers who bought me from the farmer, Fazal-din. I could tell the farmer was overcome by emotion as he bade me goodbye, although he tried not to show it. He patted me on the back, shook hands with each of the two buyers, and then, having received the money, left me in the hands of two people entirely unknown to me. This was the first shock-and the biggest one- which I received in my life.

On the long journey to Karachi, I kept thinking about my three children. They were still young calves, and they were separated from me at such a young age. I feared they would die or fall ill, or maybe I would, from this sudden shock.

At last, after what seemed to me like an eternity(although I am sure it was only about two or three hours) we reached the Maveshi Mandi *at the Karachi Highway. There I was boarded off the truck, and one of the two men led me with the rope round my neck inside the Mandi, and tied me to a pole inside it.

The Mandi was full of all sorts of different people who were all united in their search for a suitable cow or goat. Several passerbies commented on my healthy physique, and some people even took selfies with me! Finally, this man named Ahmed stopped by. As he explained to the seller (the man who bought me from Fazal-din), he wanted a nice, healthy cow-one like me- in a suitable price. He made me open my mouth to check how many teeth I had and kept patting me on the back. Then, after bargaining about my price with the seller for about half an hour, he settled on four and a half lakhs**-originally I was for five lakhs-and then bought me. At first I cheered up but right then, in the Mandi little did I know about what awaited me.

After having paid for me, Ahmed proudly led me outside the Mandi and then into a truck again. I had a horrible time in the truck, especially when we went over speed breakers. The drivers’ speed was dangerously fast, and as he listened to some old Punjabi song on the radio and chewed onto his paan, I could tell that he did not care one bit about me, nor would he lower the speed ever so slightly for my sake. No-he would continue speeding over the highway-he had to drop me and my new owner off to his residence as soon as possible and return to the Mandi; how else would he earn the money to buy Eid clothes for his children?

As the truck skidded to a halt in front if Ahmed’s house, I sighed with relief. My difficulties were over-or so I thought. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of a never-ending series of hardships.

As the driver and Ahmed helped me out of the truck the whole of the neighbourhood gathered on their balconies to have a look at me.

“This one is a beauty, Ahmed,” praised one of his neighbours.

“Just how much did it cost you?” asked another.

“Six lakhs” Ahmed lied.

Stepping down the truck, I felt that Ahmed’s intent for buying me-and for lying right now-was merely to show off to his neighbours and friends what an expensive cow he had bought. He had paid such a hefty price for me only for the fame and pride I would earn him-not for God.

Ahmed led me to his so-called garden and tied me outside it, to a tree. This was no garden, only a square patch of grass and plants, and he had tied me outside it because his wife feared that if he tied me inside I would trample on her lovely flowers and spoil them. Ahmed opened a large sack of hay and emptied it into a broken old tub. Then he went inside to fetch me a pail of water.

Although I was really hungry, I did not even touch the hay. Did this idiot Ahmed think I would eat hay?  I was bought up in a farm and I don’t even know what hay looks like. Of course I won’t eat hay. I drank up all the water instead and then sat down on the drive. The rope tied round my neck was about a foot long and I was extremely uncomfortable standing up.

Just then, Ahmed’s ten-year-old son appeared and began poking me with a stick. Then he asked his father to take me outside-as if I were inside-for a walk. Ahmed agreed, untied me and then father and son took me out on the streets for a ‘walk’.

It was an extremely unpleasant experience and I do not wish to talk about it. But Ahmed’s son particularly enjoyed it, and after that, each night, he insisted upon his father to take me out for a walk.

Today is Eid day. Finally, my difficulties are about to end. As Ahmed and his son return from the Masjid after the Eid prayers with the butcher, I sigh with relief. The wait is over. Although Ahmed is bought down by emotion, and his son, too, is close to tears, I am extremely happy. I am glad to know that the hardships are about to end.

*Maveshi Mandi , roughly translated, would be cattle market in English.

**Lakh is a South Asian term. One hundred Lakhs is about one crore or ten million.