Image for representation only. FileWhile the recent spate of lynchings in the name of cow is condemned, cruelty to animal is one thing that needs a new perspective. More so at a time when biocentrism is gaining a significant space against anthropocentrism as a major stream of thought in debates.
Although mutual predation is an indisputable biological fact woven into the story of life on earth, avoiding unnecessary harms to a fellow being has been the core of the overall earthly existence. The most developed species, man, was an aberration of sorts, though. Unlike other beings on earth his journey of development was different and it was only natural that the focus all along was on a successful end than the ethics of the means adopted to achieve it.
Sorry, got a bit carried away from what I essentially wanted to share here.
A passion to pursue the story of a remote Himalayan village where the dead would be buried against the common Hindu practice of cremation to avoid air pollution and environmental damage (and also to save wood for other purposes), took us to a place near Almora in the Kumaon ranges.
We thought it would be something good to follow. Especially in the context of the US withdrawal from COP21. For us, if it was all about the greed of a priggish society that purloins resources on the one side, the other side was about the wisdom of a traditional society that has been living the tenets of environment for ages that we woke up to only recently. And how did we wake up? Perhaps, we needed our Supreme Court to prod us.
Green, cold, sleepy villages strewn across mountain folds welcomed Prof. Nandakumar Janardhanan and me. However, it did not take much time for us to realise that we were in a wrong place so far as the purpose of the visit was concerned. For, as soon as we reached, we could spot a Hanuman temple right in front of us. Ideally, that should not have been the case given the way he is hated by one and all in the village. The mythology goes that in his search for the sanjivni herb that would enliven the comatose Lakshmana in Ramayana, the monkey god could not recognise the particular plant and he lifted the entire mountain thereby distorting the entire environment. So, they are yet to forgive him, and an outsider is still not allowed to take even Hanuman’s name in their village.
It was too late for us to continue our travel farther to our actual destination, which was at least 150 km away. The distance involved a full day’s travel through difficult terrains. Further, the fragrance of simplicity which pervaded all over compelled us to stay back the next day and explore a bit of the village life.
What captured our attention summarily was an assiduous attitude among people towards conservation. Having a bit of a profligate in us – a benign gift of consumerism – the lesson for us there, more than anything else, was that of an absolute peaceful existence of a few hundred people in harmony with nature and all fellow beings. Perhaps, one could easily trace the provenance of that extra humility to the challenges a mighty mountain and its deep chasms pose every moment in the day-to-day life of a commoner there. A village that lives with apple, apricot, tiger, and leopard.
We got up to a cold morning the next day seeing the splendent peaks through the windows. Wading through curious eyes of local men and women, we began the travel of the day – walking – occasionally to be stopped by pallid faces which wanted to know who we were, where we were from, why we were there, etc. Some even invited us for breakfast. We walked past all of them and crossed a long stretch of forest to reach another village.
A lone house on the outskirts of the village caught our attention. A fairly maintained walk-path from the common village gravel track climbed up to their home. Sensing the signal that we were looking to have a chat with him, the head of the house invited us in. As we settled down, each member of the family including children started appearing to greet us.
Our conversation with the old man, Bhupender Singh, who retired from the Railways several years ago, revolved chiefly around village cultivation, job opportunities, earning patterns, major health issues faced by people in such far-flung villages, where one would need to travel tens of miles to get medical help, etc.
So courteous was he that it did not feel like a first-time meeting. As the conversation progressed came tea and snacks for us. The discussion in progress then was education and how important they saw it to themselves. Although children had to walk several miles for schooling, parents made it a point to see that their children did well in studies. Fall in numbers and deteriorating quality of education in a nearby government school had several of the parents sending their wards to a distant private school although it meant more expenses and much more travel, Mr. Singh said.
Mr. Singh thought the absence of a rat race was the basis of satisfaction in mountain villages. In addition, innumerable dangers that were a stone's throw away made them more conscientious and kept them happy and content.
These are times of cow politics. Everywhere. Thus, in a way, it became pertinent for us two curious souls to know what it meant for those, who were far way from its epicentre. Further, a half-a-dozen of bovines spotted in the backyard of the house prompted us to wonder if they were touched by the wind and the whirl that is stirring the whole nation. However, for the sensitivity of the same, we wanted to explore it a bit tacitly. What waited us was a surprise.
Rearing animals like cow in remote places like Dronagiri has always been a tough task for more than one reason. Wild animals can be a big threat in such unguarded places. Dairy products do not have a steady and encouraging market. For example, the cow milk that fetches a farmer around Rs.50/litre sells there for less than half of it. Gathering fodder can be another tough task. Veterinary help in such interior areas can be a big issue.
But problems cease to exist when you don’t seek profit out of anything and everything in life.
For Mr. Singh, these cows are members of his family. He does not not keep them for any profit. As there are not many who would want to purchase the animal in the vicinity, he knows he will have to cope with their increasing numbers. But he is doing it religiously, although it becomes too tight for him to manage everything with his pension alone. He does not send the retired, unyielding ones out to be predated by a hungry leopard or tiger. “How about my children throwing me out when I stop being productive for them,” he retorted in an emotional way. “We keep them until they are alive, like a family member. Feed them equally along the yielding ones,” he added.
He was not doing this to prove a point. Not a smidgen of showbiz was the case. He did not know much of what was happening elsewhere under the garb of cow politics. Neither did he seem to be worried much about all that, too. Interestingly, he was an occasional meat eater, who wouldn’t mind some chicken tikka with his evening pegs. But life has taught him to be empathetic to animals. For, eventually, they are also part of the same stream of consciousness that he belongs to.
As we got up to say adieu to them we were exalted knowing there were cows still living a life of dignity in India, away from all politics that has defamed them too much these days.
I am happy to have met a bunch of cows who are blissfully away from politics.
(Pradeep Kaimal is a Delhi-based freelance energy journalist and analyst)
