The twilight was darker than other days as dark clouds steadily captured the clear sky. It wasn’t raining though; may be the rain could have precipitated the gloom within me. Alex had a deep gash on his left paw when he had stepped on something prickly on morning stroll the previous day. The tourniquets were changed every couple of hours; the problem being our inability to convince him to rest and not use his leg. The wound showed signs of healing whenever he rested only to bleed again as he got impatient, walking in the house, to go out. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate already, dealing with a recalcitrant baby with a mind of its own made me feel despondent. My mind went blank. I walked to the common balcony in the corridor of our floor and started staring out at nothing particular. The somberness hung heavily in the air; so did the stench of dung coming from the open stable besides our apartment. The smell just electrocuted me back from the world of trance.
The open stable in the middle of bustling localities itself was a landscape marvel. Roughly 30-35 buffaloes tied to their pegs, were sitting peacefully on half of the land which had a slight slope. The downpour on previous day had trickled the slushy mud down forcing them into unwanted mud therapy. But from the looks of it, they couldn’t have cared any less about the discomfort. The occasional waving of tail to swat away flies was the only aberration in an otherwise sage like composure. The cows were kept beneath the trees on the flat land above the slope and had the luxury of sheds for night and bad weather. So cows were not just on a higher pedestal in spiritual and religious symbolism, here buffaloes were shown their place literally. This, in spite of the fact that the stable owner made more money by selling creamier buffalo milk than cow’s. The buffaloes didn’t get stressed about that either.
I recollected that once in a while, a gutsy cow dares to escape the daily drudgery by making a run for it. This also happens to be the time where I get to know how many people run the stable. All of them are out with the lassos and sticks shouting weird monosyllables in an attempt to corner and nab the cow. I await it eagerly; it beats the entertainment of reels hollow any day. Never has ever a buffalo attempted something of that sort. It firmly believes the worst of the options is the best of the options. Gulzar must have observed a languid buffalo somewhere when he penned Thoda hai, thode ki zaroorat hai, zindagi phir bhi yaha khoobsurat hai…. . I thought that one of the most docile, amenable and resilient creatures is buffalo indeed. It never rebels, nor agitates or throws tantrums. And yet ‘humari ladki/ladka gaay hai’ is proudly proclaimed. Poor buffalo loses here too because of its size and complexion. But it graciously plays second fiddle to its much revered and loved colleague.
Every morning, the people at the stable milk them and store it in cans for home delivery. To avoid adulteration, I would walk to the stable to get pure milk. After a couple of days, the owner not so politely asked me to stay afar at the stable entrance and to not come close to the buffaloes. Their logic was buffaloes would not allow them to milk if they saw people coming for it. What? They were playing coy or acting rough! It was neither. I learned later that buffaloes were milked thorough even if little was left for their calves who were released last. People were prevented from coming close as the owner lost out on the opportunity to add water in the vessel before milking them.
In short, buffaloes are given nothing other than water. They are released in the morning with a couple of cattle herders to roam around, feed themselves with grass and shrubs, come back and stand obediently near their pegs to be tied back and withstand whatever nature throws at them at night. They live in the shadows of their illustrious colleagues throughout, are largely ignored by society which acknowledges the superiority of their milk which in turn allowed their owners to build a four storeyed building adjacent to the stable. But no shed for them still. They keep doing this day after day, without any fuss or stress, being sucked dry (metaphorically and literally) and with no expectation of change.
And I was feeling stressed. I had the ability, freedom and choices to alter the situation in a favourable way. I so wished to handle the future stress with the temperament of a buffalo. It had started raining.
I glanced one more time at them, smiled and thanked them. The gloom had cleared.