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 sugared 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 liquid that reminded of toil worn

Cows and buffaloes toil ridden

Hardships they often endured

Whips upon their backs sometimes to do

Masters bidding

Riding bullock carts, phalki’s or Tonga’s

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

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 fields

And sufficient milk for milking

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 the 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!