There must be something delightful about sitting by the road, munching last night’s dinner yet another time. The contented look on the faces of cows will vouch for this assumption. There were several of them in our courtyard this morning, enjoying the September sun. There was a Mamma cow and a Daddy cow and a Baby one who made mincemeat of the little weedy plants on the pavement. There were some aunts and uncles too, presumably left loose by their purveyor, who didn’t seem to mind the stench from the wall-turned-lavatory in the background. Most didn’t even bother with the itch that hovering flies caused. They merely waited for the nuisances to buzz off on their own. Such simple and patient creatures, cows are.
If it had been a couple of human beings for instance, they would have started with small talk on the weather and gone on to the state of the Indian economy in a blink. Or, as the case may be, to the state of the tall nose that nouveau-riche XYZ lady has. The human beings would then scowl and complain, whine and pull a long face. Some would sneer, some would sob. And a few smart Alecs would tell them they are above it all. If only human beings could learn to replicate the cow-calm! I am almost envious.
It’s unhealthy to be static – claim the experts. You got to be up and about, on your high heels and in your best gregarious mood all the damned while. Success comes to the runner, the one who overtakes all others. Not to the cow sitting lazily by the road, day dreaming of fields of grass. Well, it’s all a matter of perspective. Ask the cow and she will surely have a giggle or so to suppress. “I am the observer,” she will claim “and I do not bring myself to a nervous breakdown worrying about the other cow who’s prettier and has three basketfuls of grass to nibble on. I can chew on my own dinner any number of times.”
How I wish we could live so simply! If only there was a honey-tinged dawn to wake up to, with the early winter chill tempting you to cuddle up just a bit more with a loved one. The days passed by in innocent bliss, oblivious to the machinations of money-making and rat-race-running. Our minds were occupied with what the Renaissance philosophers would have called the quest for knowledge instead of the gold mining impulses that we have. Ah, life would have been a multitude of shades lovelier. Sigh!
But anyway, like I said, the cows also taught me patience. I am willing to live happily with whatever I have and wait for whatever I dream of. Until… the cows come home.