By H H Mohrmen
The notice issued by the Animal Welfare Board of India, which is an agency of the Ministry of Fisheries, Animal Husbandry and Dairying of the government of India declaring February 14 as Cow Hug Day has not only sparked a debate but cartoonists and meme makers also had a field day because of the order. The notice compelled me to revisit an article I wrote a decade ago and realized how relevant it is to the current situation. It was a real story that happened to me a decade ago and I rewrite it again because the situation in the country requires that we question, introspect and ask ourselves the question whether we really want to hug a cow on Valentine’s Day (February 14) or not.
I always envy people who live in villages; to me, their lives seem simple, easy, and at peace with everything around them. It looks like it is not difficult and complex as life in the towns and the cities is. It was out of this love for country life that I decided as a young boy on the profession that I spent a good part of my life in.
I love the green hills and enjoy the pleasant breeze in the open fields. I also love to watch the clear pristine waters that flow from the rivulets to the roaring river down below. For me, the drive down the calm, narrow, and scanty traffic road in the countryside is a spiritual exercise in itself. It is an opportunity to enjoy nature in all its grandeur, a hassle-free drive where I can park anywhere I like and be overwhelmed by the splendor of the green nature around.
Of all my visits to many villages in these beautiful Khasi Jaintia hills of Meghalaya, this one visit was the most memorable. Ksehrynchang is a beautiful village on the important road which connects Jowai in Meghalaya with Khainduli and Hamren in the state of Assam. I used to shuttle to and from Jowai to Kremlabit in Ksehrynchang to perform my pastoral duties. On one particular visit to the village, I had to stay overnight to complete my pastoral duties the next day. I arrived in the evening just before it got dark. It was indeed a magnificent moonless and cloudless night. I spent some time out of doors in the cold dry night sitting on a bamboo stool to enjoy the darkness which was illuminated by the dim light from the stars in the sky. The soft light from the starry sky dimly lit the nature around me. Even though it was mid-December, the needle leaves on the pine trees still looked fresh and green, and the pristine waters of river Mynriang sparkled while it flowed on its course to join the river Myntang. When I looked around, the open outfields surrounded by hills looked so beautiful; everything was black and white. I took beautiful black-and-white snapshots of the wonderful night with my mind’s eye.
I thought village life was simple and I knew almost everything I needed to know about living in the countryside. The cock crowed three times and I was woken up by the mooing of a mother cow calling its calf which had loitered nearby. It was the beginning of the post-harvest season in the area and by tradition after harvest farmers are allowed to let their animals loose without the owner having to take care of the animals. The tradition is called “Dat-rai” in the Jañtia hills and “pynlait-lan” in the Khasi hills. During this time of the year, animals are allowed to roam freely without anyone tending to them. It is the only time of the year when the cow herders and goat- herders are given a holiday. The animals (cattle in particular) were left uncared for during the dry months and will be shepherded back in spring before the sowing season.
The next morning was cold, dry, and crispy. I hesitatingly unzipped my sleeping bag and got out of bed and walked to the porch of the house overlooking the hills. I raised my hands and stretched them high to greet the rising sun. While standing on the portico of the house, I looked for a place nearby with patches of wood in it. To my right, I saw a small hill nearby with plenty of standing pine trees and walked towards the hill to answer nature’s call. On reaching the hill I noticed a herd of cows grazing on a frosty morning. I walked on the clear path and a young bull threatened me, lowering its head as if to hit me. I shouted at the bull, which from the way it was blowing air from its nose, seemed to be in a rage. I shouted at it again and we somehow avoided confronting each other. I continued to walk and went to finish my chore. I walked the same path again to return to the house where I was put up for the night. Not suspecting anything from the noble herds of animals, I heard the cows mowing but it meant nothing to me. I kept walking my way through the stranded herd of cows. Then all of a sudden the young bull that had threatened me earlier attacked me from behind and hit me on the right side of my abdomen. I fell on the ground with my head still high making me an easy target for another attack by the raging bull.
The second attack hit me on my right face near my right eye; the attack was so powerful that with a big thud, I saw stars and lost consciousness. Even after I fell to the ground, the furious bull did not leave me; it kept on hitting me and made me conscious again. While hitting me, it also made an angry call, which was answered by the mother cow nearby. The cow too joined forces with the bull to mercilessly attack me and fix me on the pine tree nearby. It was sheer luck that Khlanhiwot Lamare and Beitlang Langstang who accompanied me on the trip were close by. They, being villagers, understood the unusual call of the cows, and went to see what happened. When they saw me being hit mercilessly time and again by the bull and the cow, Khlan tried to shoo the cow away; but the cow paid no heed. He then took a long stick and started hitting the attacking cow to save me from the animals. Finally, the bull and cow left me alone but not unscathed. I was left with bruises and pain all over my body. Khlan and Beitlang helped me get back on my feet and walked me down to the house.
On reaching our host’s home I was told that I was lucky that it was the young bull that attacked me because its horns are still too small to do any serious damage to my body. When I reached the house and innocently told them that I always assumed that cows are harmless animals, I asked them why the animals attacked me. They said it was because I went too close to the mother cow which still milks a baby calf. They advised me not to walk near the mother cow anymore. Thank goodness, my ribs are intact and I only had bruises on my face, but it would have been a different story if it had been an adult bull with full-grown horns that attacked me.
Of course, I had learnt another lesson, but I learned the lesson the hard way. I call the incident a crash course on cow’s behaviour not because it is quick but because it came crashing on me all of a sudden. I learnt that generally animals have the instinct to feel the pangs of hunger, to procreate, and to protect themselves and their offsprings. The incident has also taught me another lesson – to never assume that village life is simple. It is very complex and includes among other things, the wisdom to know and predict the behavior of animals, the cycle of the seasons, and the vagaries of plants’ lives.
I hope this piece will make our friends who plan to hug (or even go near) a cow, gives makes teaches them to think afresh and that the unfortunate incident that occurred to me will make them reviset their enthusiasm to make people hug a cow. Thankfully the Animal Welfare Board seems to have been stung by the jokes and memes and has cancelled the, “Hug a Cow” circus.