THE BANJARAN AND HIS COW GAURI
THE BANJARAN AND HIS COW GAURI
THE
BANJARAN AND HIS COW GAURI
Ramu
the Banjaran and his cow Gauri
Set
out decked a jubilee
Silver
bells on her ear flaps
Golden
rings on her nose
A
golden brocaded decorative
Satin
cloth skirted around her neck
Right
up to her tender back
She
looked starved yet so nimble
As
a dainty cow goddess nymph
Nymph
I say because her Banjaran Ramu
Carried
a Conch horn
Everywhere
he took her
To
blow rhythm and rhymes
And welcome Passersby
As if into her holy temple
Of
mirth and wisdom
The
onlookers watched
With
religious stealth a rosy eye
As
little Gauri the maiden cow
Cast
her magic spell
She
eased one’s worry
Simply
because she looked
As
white as milk
With
stray bits of caramelised sugar maps
In
bits and pieces like a jigsaw puzzle
Strewn
over her supple body
White
as creamy milk
That
her mother Raksha dutifully quenched
Thirst
of her calf
And
thirsty pilgrims gently progressing
One
by one from the shrine of
Her
wide nurturing bosoms
Milking
her pinky teats into jugs
Gorgeous
creamy white milk
A
precious liquid that reminded one
Cows
and toil ridden buffaloes
Hardships
they often endured
Whips
upon their backs sometimes to do
Masters
bidding
Riding
bullock carts
And
the cow that ploughs the field
On
a hot summers day
Without
sparing the rod
To
spoil the dainty child of fate
Or
the deity of wildly growing
Marigolds
and grass ferns
To
fill such herbivores stomachs
Their
daily gruel full
Fuel
tank to endure and
Make
every wish turn true
Still
without a word
Breathing
out a cry or whimper
By
the severe lashes still proceeding forward
Painfully
pulling reigns of
Such
a cruel masters bidding
The
daily grind of the grinding mills
Of
flour by ploughing wheat fields
And
sufficient milk for milking our cups of daily spice tea
Even
Nautanki such performed
Whilst
Tourists gaping open mouths
At
gymnasts and trapeze artists
As
urchins balanced their toes
On
a threadbare rope
Alongside
their domesticated pets
Trundling
their belongings
From
place to place
Upon
such timid deity goddesses
Till
the welcoming gates
Of
a palace opens
For
such urchin pilgrims
Progressing
with their deity goddess cows
The
story of young Gauri
A
sorry one!
Saved
from an old slaughter house
By
the Banjaran Ramu
He
girded her with his
Fine
ropes of silk hand made
And
loved her more than
Anything
in the whole wide world
He
fed her tender saplings and shoots
And
gave her fresh water from lakes
Whilst
touring through villages and cities
Even
if his tummy was empty
A
hundred butterflies flittered!
Made
sure the nymph deity
Gauri
his cow
Had
met gruel standards
In
reality were so hard to measure up
As
she toiled walking for so many
Miles
and kilometres, hours and hours
Under
the scorching sun beams
Yet
the sun was gracious
Even
though it did not mean
Harm
to the ungracious thieves
Those
who loitered in the dark
Hoping
to rob someone else’s hard earned
Sweat
and perspiration
They
never wished to accumulate
On
the brow of foreheads
And
one day stole the purse strings
Of
the broke Banjaran Ramu
Who
with patience had amassed
Only
a couple of hundred rupees
With
his faithful deity cow Gauri
Welcoming
and greeting
So
many foreign strangers
Into
her temple of Mercy
Just
a rupee, sometimes ten
Or
maybe twenty
Blessings
uncountable to full tilt
Souls
of those who felt touched
By
such a lovely conch horn
And
a beautiful though starved
Princess
Cow deity Gauri
By
the commoners
Gauri
had no more
Strength
to accomplish
Her
next enjoyable adventure
She
yearned for a good
Bowl
of maybe oats, grass, special alfalfa hay
Maybe
even a generous handful
Of
grains
To
keep her going
Whilst
Ramu the master couldn’t
Contain
his beat brow
And
muscles throbbing
Undeniably
from starving the whole day
He
was keen on buying himself a Thali
And
for his cow Gauri
A
bit of special alfalfa hay
To
keep her going the cumbersome
Journey
to the welcoming city gates
However
things would turn
For
a better resolution
Up
the stormy rift
When
soon again the sunny weather
Turned
to a rainy day
Yet
the Banjaran Ramu
With
his rickety old black umbrella
Starved
by the unfortunate circumstance
Set
out to the bright city gates
He
tamed her empty stomach
Just
to walk up the hill
Of
that old church of Bandra city
Known
as the Mount Mary Basilica
Just
a few steps more
And
they would find a generous soul
Of
a commoner
Waiting
to enter into the precious temple
Jingling
her silver bells
As
if ringing the shrines golden gongs
By
feeding her a handful of special hay
Or
the Banjaran a mouthful of boiled rice
To
serve him a generous Thali with some vegetables
He
wished that day
Whole
heart and soul
As
soundly the pilgrim Banjaran Ramu
And
his deity cow made way
As
they climbed the twisty hill
A
few passersby offered him just a rupee
Or
two
Maybe
he’d get lucky walking all
Those
desperate miles
To
kill starvation this thundering Rainy day
Suddenly
he came to the old church
Though
the gates were locked and
Looked uninviting
Through
the hard hitting pellets of raindrops
Pelting
from the heavens high above
Yet
he waited outside with his sodden
Dripping
moist black umbrella in case
The
priest changed his mind
And
took pity on the pair of pilgrims
Waiting
for the gates to open
That
lucky day the Priest was
Standing
by the green gates
Of
the church
And
invited the poor stranger
Banjaran
and his deity cow
Opening
wide the green church gates
Right
into the open court
And
soon inside the shade
He
felt sorry as he too loved
Cows
and he took pity
On
the starving gentle nymph
Inviting
them inside the
Church
compounds
For
a meal and gulps of water
For
the hungry and thirsty
Wayfaring
pilgrim
And
his deity cow
Like
in good old days
This
time the priest
Spooned
out the best dhal
A
thali full of assorted vegetables Dil, karela, palak
Gavar,
farasbi, tendli, some delicious lentils
And
a heap of rice on a silver plate
For
the hungry Banjaran
Whilst
for the white glistening deity
Nymph
goddess Gauri
A
bowl of best grain
Even
some handful special grass
And
alfalfa hay
From
inside the rectory
Sips
of sparkling water from a jug
For
the two holy pilgrims
The
Banjaran was happy
Beyond
all measure
With
tears of joy his heart exceeded
Boundless limits of happiness
All
it could possibly take
Full
of gratitude
Towards
the holy priest and
Blew
his conch horn so loudly
All
the parishioners were stunned
To
see
What’s
more his purse strings
Jangled
with so many coins
And
rupees
It
was his luckiest day
The
Banjaran took the blessing
Of
the Man crucified on the cross
And
curiously asked the priest why the thorns
On
his head
As
innocently as jasmines that adorned
The
garland around Lord’s face
The
priest blessed him with
A
drop of holy water for his head
And
explained
“He
is the King who died
For
all humankind sins
When
one day after all we pilgrims
Finished
our song and
Long
journey
With
all our deities we’d sing his praises
If
we deserved to meet with Lord
Keeping
holy his word
Treating
kindness with kindness
And
humility in all our deeds
And
just like the King
Forgiving
our enemies”
The
Banjaran Ramu
His
heart now was full
Of
blessings from heaven
He
gently nudged his loving
Deity
Gauri
And
set out again over
Hills
and dales
Gurgling
brooks and Mountains
The
sun shone brightly
Like
a coin tossed
Heads
and tails
That
entered into his jhola
Gauri
the deity cow
Looked
healthier as the
Days
passed by
And
so did Ramu the Banjaran
To
have the golden sun beams
That
filled a treasure trove
Inside
the beaming bag
Of
Pilgrims Progressing
And
blowing the conch horn
Inviting
passersby
Into
the temple of mirth and goodness
Once
again!