Revelations

The portable TV that I had brought with me proved to be a good tool for my experiments with these folks. At first, I let only the chaps who worked on my farm to watch the Sunday movie along with their families. Also, I made it a point to watch the daily half hour program in the evening meant for the farmers. That it would help me breaking the ice during my stay in the farm was not known to me.

Then the World Cup, 1990 began with the first match between Argentina and Cameroon. Cameroon scored a single goal and created a sensation. I watched that match alone on the 8th.The repeat telecast in the morning brought in 2 young chaps, who introduced themselves to me as Senguttavan and Balan. They wanted to watch the match, I let them in and went about my daily chore. Princess was in the last few weeks of her pregnancy as were 6 others and I was taking special care of these beauties.

Life in the farm had settled into a routine. In the mornings I played some music and found that each group of my bovine loves had their own taste and my milk production went up. The systems that I had set in place had the desired effect on the bottom line. Both my brother and his partner appreciated the increase in cash flow. They wanted me to have a drink but I refused. I had begun to grow my hair and a beard and usually hung around in a pair of tennis shorts and nothing else. The chore of pumping the water out began to fill out my muscles and I was beginning to feel fit and healthy.

Today, after I finished the routine I caught up with my visitors and we began exchanging notes about the city that I had come from and the village. I learnt that there was a caste system in place and these chaps belonged to the upper caste and had girl friends from the lower caste and they rubbed the bacon in the fields, or orchards or wherever a convenient place showed itself up. They were very casual about it. And it was implied that at some point in time the relationship would be terminated when either party got married to some one of their parents’ choice. I had heard about sexploitation but this was the first time that I came face to face with the truth.

We started talking about farming practices and I gave them a few tips from the shows that I had seen. The chaps were impressed and nodded in agreement when I offered that they could come in the evenings to watch the telecast, not only of the program but of the world cup telecast too. Two games were on today, one between Italy and Austria and the other between Russia and Romania. And I hoped they showed the Italy match.

Senguuttavan and Balan left and I went back to spend some quality time with my Princess. In the evening I asked my people if they would like to watch the match, with one of them agreeing. I needed him to come, to prove a point. He belonged to the lower caste and the other two invitees would have to sit by his side. Perhaps, the devil in me made me do that.

My mind was on the Italy vs Austria match.

In the evening, my brother informed me of a purchase they intended to make. Another buffalo to the herd. I reminded him about the deliveries to come and asked him to wait for some time. He appeared to agree, largely thanks to the improved cash flow and the improved milk flow. He had money in his pockets. He went walkabout in the farm with Venkatesh and when they appeared they informed me that they would defer the purchase, although the advance had been paid. Strictly speaking, I was just a paid labor and they could have discounted my advice or whatever. But, cash, was the great equalizer. I pointed out to White God’s practice of scraping away the soil along with the bullshit and demonstrated how it could be done without. I caught an exchange of looks and I wish now that, that I had deciphered the meaning of that.

A long term plan was set in motion that evening with me being the central character and blissfully unaware.

Evening arrives and the smell of burning hay permeates the air; a simple method to drive away the mosquitoes. My supper arrives and I finish it in a hurry and smoke sitting on the door less entrance to my abode, awaiting my visitors for the evening. By the village standards, the 11pm time was literally midnight. And Schillaci was the hot player to watch.

My visitors arrived all together, one from the east and two from the west. The one from the east came by walk and the other two on a bi-cycle, the common transport of the village. I was playing Hari Prasad Chaurasia on my stereo to soothe every, she of my herd. And the chaps who had walked in were carried away by the music.

We sat silently, with the teevee on mute waiting for the match to start. There was one chair on which I sat and I had spread empty sacks that had carried fertilizer as a mat for the other three to sit on. It was then that Senguttavan, perked up and asked if he could smoke in my presence. One is not supposed to smoke in the presence of elders. I just laughed and offered him a smoke, which he accepted gracefully. Once he lit up the other two, pulled out their smokes and lit up too. Hmmm. I had achieved what I had wanted and encouraged a conversation about banana plantations and the traditional practices and a few innovations that I had seen. It was fun to watch these chaps discuss the pros and cons of my ideas.

I had set the ball rolling and in the days to come this would be the pattern.

Italy won that night and as the matches played themselves out during the month, my audience grew, slowly and some of the elders in the village began to drop in. We discussed agricultural practices and I translated the English commentary when the match was telecast.

The ice between the upper and lower caste men broke right in the presence of my TV over a period of time and became the talk of the chai shops in the neighboring hamlets and villages. My work and my passion for the buffalos became known and with each passing day as the milk output grew, my name grew too. People began dropping in to get tips about crops, buffalos and this did not go down well with my brother and his partner.

As a result, my food began coming late and somedays' I just got a meal a day. I did not react and soldiered on adding to the irritation. During the month of June, my folks wanted me to get married and I refused, since I had taken a break from the corporate world and had fallen in love with this simple life that I was leading.

Cameroon made it to the quarter finals and lost narrowly to England, by two goals to three. Argentina was being tipped to win and it was sheer fun watching Maradona weave his magic. In the finals, when Brehme scored in the 85th minute for Germany, it was all over. Maradona cried his heart out but the Germans were superior on that day. The scoreline of 1-0, did not reflect the intensity of the match, in the end.

The crowd thinned out after the World Cup, but a few elders dropped in occasionally and Senguttavan and his pal became regular visitors.

The first full month brought in a modest profit of 3000 rupees after paying off some loans that my brother and his partner had incurred, over the past few months. My Pa was happy, but not my brother and his partner, since all transactions were out in the open and they couldn’t dip their hand in the till as was their usual practice. But I still could not figure out their long face. Here I was making money for them and they had long faces. I shrugged the anomaly away and went about caring for my pretty girls, the ones who were due to deliver in about 8 weeks time.

The bonding between me and my beauties grew as the days flew by and Princess was happy at all the attention that I was giving her. I had got them hooked on music and milk output had steadied and we were making a good 20, 000 rupees every month, all of which was split between the two partners.

I still remember that day, it was hot and the sweat was pouring off my back and brow when one of the elders, the head master, of the village school came in and after the usual pleasantries we went for a stroll where the subabul trees were planted and one got some shade and respite from the midday sun. The subabul trees were beneficient in two ways, the leaves were good fodder and the branches made for good firewood, after they had been chopped and dried in the sun.

What he told me made me sit up.

The previous day, as I sat glued to the TV, watching the Italy vs Czechs match and saw Italy beat them by 2-0, history was being made in the city that I came from and I was unaware of it at that point in time.

The head master had two stories to tell and all of them factual. The previous landowner was one K. Padmanabha, the head of EPRLF, an organization based out of Sri Lanka, aspiring for a separate nation for the Tamils out there, who had migrated from Tamilnadu , a couple of hundred years back, to work as laborers. They had ideological differences with the alleged chief representative of the Tamils, a certain organization called the LTTE, in the methodology to be used. Padmanabha wanted to ally with India but the LTTE were against it. And after the disbanding of these splinter groups from the soil of Tamilnadu, where they had training camps to train their cadres in different locales in the land where Tamil originated, they had quietly moved to the city, where they were allowed to meet and conduct their business, albeit with no struggle to be originated from the city. The government of the day was sympathetic to the LTTE.

But let me not go into the murky world of politico-terrorism. The fucking idiots run the governments even today, everywhere.

The upshot was that, as I sat and watched a football match the previous night the land previously owned by Padmanabha, Lord Yama riding a buffalo, snuffed out his life along with a dozen others, making it a baker’s dozen, for the night. And the killers fled to Srilanka from the coast in a few hours, with a red alert clamped after their escape. What a laugh!! Never venture into politics was the lesson I learnt that day, under the mid-day sun, although the offer would come to me a few months later.

And the Headmaster was apprehensive that Yama could reach here too. I looked into his eyes, steeling myself for what was coming next, I asked him the obvious and what he narrated next froze my blood cold, momentarily. As proof he asked me to check the well with the parapet; I whistled and White God came running. I asked a point blank question and he hung his head in reply. We trudged to the well and White God, climbed down into the well and came up with a sack of spent bullets, the remains of a training exercise. Or more. He also said that there were more sacks. After I pressed hard on him, he also mentioned that there was a rusty remnant of an AK-47 in the loft of the hut that I was staying in; and offered to fetch it for me. The bastard. I came on strong and asked him if the cobra incident was contrived and he nodded his head, in agreement. The Head master took over and he used a few choice words that still make me blush, in remembrance. All that I was told by the head master was to be wary. But, wary of what? I asked him.

And he gave me the second bit of history of that day.

Apparently, my brother and his partner, were ‘seal-busters’, a term used for the men who paid top dollar to de-virgin a girl and set her off onto a prostitute’s life. And that’s why the farm was running at a loss, prior to my arrival. All the money went towards their pursuits and to think that each of them were fathers to baby girls who were just a year or so old. Life is funny, I suppose. The Headmaster also told me that there was some talk that they had initiated moves to oust me from the farm. I just laughed it away, patted my thanks on to his shoulder.

After he left, I went to Princess and started speaking to her. I told her about those partners and I told her about their plans to oust me from the farm. She just kept nodding, and after I had finished she let out one big sigh and stretched her neck and put it on my lap and yawned herself to sleep.

I sat there as if in a trance. My Girl had sensed my fears and by her action she just told me that it was the humans that were greedy for all, not being satisfied with what one had.

To want more is human but to want to possess everything was stupid is what the Princess was telling me. I sat there till the sun went down waiting for the Princess to wake up and after she had done I went to wash the bad feeling at the pit of my corded stomach.

Senguttavan came by as dusk gave way to darkness and sensing my low mood asked if I had anything on my mind and when I opened up, he just smiled and confirmed everything that the Head Master had told me. He also put his hand on my troubled shoulder and said he would begin to hang around my farm as much as possible and if there was anything I need I could just holler and he would hear me, as his paddy fields were not far away.

I nodded my head, refused his offer of a drink of arak, the local brew and bade him a goodbye.

I went back to the Princess and this time she snorted. Wondering why she was at a discomfort, I looked around and then I heard it, the music wafting through the hot air of a troubling night. Some mother somewhere was crooning a lullaby to her child.

We just stood there, the crooning calmed our frayed nerves.

What a day. And it didn’t end there.

As we were listening to the crooning, the lullaby was broken by the sound of barks and a small mongrel of unknown breed limped in and I had to chase the other dogs away by bellowing like a buffalo in anger.

I picked the mongrel up and took him inside my hut and examined him. He was scrawny and had been bitten hard on his bony rump. I proceeded to clean him up and then washed his rump with antiseptic with him collapsing on my lap, whimpering all the while.

Princess called out to me and I picked up the mongrel and went to her.

She had one look at him and gave out a peculiar sound, which I couldn’t place. I had never heard her making a sound like that, deep throated yet gentle. I went forward and showed him to her, up close. She looked him over and I saw the look in her eyes changing to a softness that even I was not blessed with. She came forward, licked his face and I set him down at her feet. She plonked herself down and using her forelegs as a cradle, she looked up at me and I obliged and picked him up and put him there.. She licked him all over all the while giving out strange sounds.

I felt safe leaving him there with Princess and went to start making the meal bowls for the midnight milking.

The people walked in and we went about our work. No one had made out that there was one more mouth to be fed, princess had hidden him and sshed him to quiet in the hay bundle. After the milking was over, I fished him out much to Princess’s dismay and showed him around. I asked White God to boil some milk and after it had cooled down, gave the mongrel, now christened, Prince, his first feed since his arrival.

Princess came out with that strange sound, again and everyone around me laughed, save me. Noticing that I was hanging around with a puzzled look, they explained that that was a sound made by a buffalo to call her calf. I got it then. Princess considered Prince as one of her own and a wicked thought crossed my mind.

I asked one of the milkmen, Durai, to wake me up when he left. I carried prince to Princess and she sat down , ready to receive him. After setting him down into her lap, I whispered to Princess that she should feed him, all the while stroking her leathery teats. She turned, looked at me and gave a soft grunt of approval. She rolled on to her side and I picked Prince and took a teat and offered it to him. He got the message. There is, despite the milking, a lot of milk left over and Prince was happily suckling away.

I made my weary way to my bed.

They found them there in the morning; the Princess and her surrogate son, and curled up on the soft underbelly of Princess was her Prince with a contented look of belonging, and she keeping a wary eye open and snorting if anyone came closer. Finally, they had to wake me up to wake her up to begin the daily routine.

Phoebus rose in the East with what I think was a wicked grin to set me off on my daily grind.

End of chap 4 , Revelations, Socializing et al.

Insemination and Jealousy

Having led her back, I sat on the entrance to my door less hut, with White God squatting , chewing the tobacco, shifty eyed. As Phoebus, went on his downward slide into the west, the grass sellers landed up, the bull looking at me, his first good look at me and not a good one at that. By this time, Azhagi’s act had spread like the proverbial wild fire into the two hamlets surrounding the boundaries of my farm, one the dalit, the untouchables so to say, on my east and the other the converted Christians on the west, a step higher in the pecking order of the class system that was prevalent in the village. The upper castes were on west by north direction about a mile away.

The grass sellers had heard about my princess’s exploit and were looking at me in wonder and asked White God about what had happened. He just pointed to the limp body of the snake which he had dragged across and kept it nearby the entrance to my hut. The last light was fading away and the three of them went about to perform the last rites of a cobra. You don’t kill a cobra and not perform the last rites. From the crossbred Jersey cow they milked a few drops; a cow can be easily milked, you just got to keep watch out for the hind leg that may come up and break your arm. This cow’s milk was for the exclusive use of my niece, who had just completed one year of her life on this wonderful planet.

Some turmeric was brought, put into the milk, which was then sprinkled on to the body of the snake and it was taken out to the road, kerosene sprinkled on to it and the match was ignited. The stench was overpowering. It kept them mosquitoes away though for a few hours.

It was then that I had the first visitor to my farm. A bigwig, so to say. I had ordered the grass cutters to bring me a few bundles of grass as a special gesture to Azhagi. The bundles and the bigwig arrived at the same time. I bid him Vanakkam with folded hands, a standard form of greeting to welcome a visitor to one’s abode and after the pleasantries were over, I asked him to join me in the special treat to my girl. The bundles were finely chopped and I took the pieces, fresh, onto my palms joined together as an offering to a deity and all that Azhagi did was to sniff and turn her head away. The visitor laughed and said that she wanted privacy, perhaps. Perhaps, I thought too. I leant forward and whispered that I would be back later, but please, love, don’t make me lose face. She flicked the grass off in one swipe of her rather rough tongue, gave me a good look in the eye and turned her head away, gently. She understood.

I led the visitor away.

I was anxious to be back with my princess and was polite to the visitor, a retired Headmaster of a nearby school and he was amazed that a chap like me could come from the city life and live like “this”… During our brief chat I came to know that he had a mango orchard, a banana plantation and paddy fields, all totaling up to a few hundred acres. Plus he had a son called Senguttavan, who was screwing the village belles. I pretended to be shocked but was reassured that it was the upper castes’ god given right to sow the wild oats. He left, perceptively noticing that my mind was elsewhere. The farm hands were hanging around out of respect for him, not for me. Or so I thought.
After, he left, they came rushing to me and heard my first hand account and were truly amazed at what had occurred. Each one of them narrated instances of my princesses high handed treatment of them lesser mortals. The look of awe was in their eyes, but they never spoke it. I was of a different breed. Is what they said. I gestured to them to leave me alone. Picked up the basket containing the chopped grass and made my way to the stall where my princess stood in waiting. I squatted cross-legged in front of her and she sat too, gracefully. I gave her my offering again in all humility. This time she nibbled and made the moment last. Occasionally, she would stretch and lick my face and when I flinched at the roughness of her tongue, she was gentler. This was a girl, who learnt real fast in the ways to please her man.

It was pure bliss. Communing with her just by feeding her and maintaining the eye contact. I don’t know how long I sat there. We never spoke. Not a word, not a snort. Not a grunt. Just the ordinary sounds of a dairy farm within and the hamlets shutting themselves down for the night.

My supper came late that night. The milkman responsible for that had been stopped at the village center and the events of the evening narrated to him with all kinds of spin. When he came, it was my Princess who grunted and the spell was over. I kissed her forehead and got my supper pack. As I went to the hand pump I was asked a zillion questions and me and my Princess replied in grunts. The milkman was amazed. I had my supper, lit up a smoke and replied for the first time to Durai that I was lucky to be alive. And that I had to catch a few winks before the next day began.

He said he was staying back. The stench of the smoldering cobra was lingering. We put up the cart, laid my bed. The Princess let out a fearful snort. We had torches and with sickles in hand we approached from different directions. Turned out that Shorty had discharged and she was ready to be seeded within the next 72 hours.

Good news, indeed


I put on the CSNY on my tape machine and set it at a low volume. This time the foursome let out appreciative grunts and I applied the anti-mosquito cream liberally and sat cross-legged waiting for the music to get over. The mosquitoes kept a respectful distance and before long I was dozing and was woken up for the midnight shift. One full day had come to a close.

After the whole exercise, we sat around debating to which stud farm, Shorty was to be taken to at the crack of dawn. Normally, one or two stud farms catered to the needs of around 20 villages, but where we were located, we could access around five, all within 5 miles range and one had to take the buffalo quite early in the morning so that we could be back by noon or so. All of this to be done by walking to the stud farm. Finally, we chose one that was easily accessible. I wanted to take Princess along with me too, but was over-ruled. And I kept my peace, strolled across to where she was dozing and whispered the news to her that I wouldn’t be around to bathe her when the sun rose later in the day. She pretended not to hear me, and that had me worried. And I went to bed, a troubled man.

I was woken up, silently and White God’s elder brother, who was co-opted for the trip, was waiting expectantly for me. I asked him to wait for a while and finished my poo-poo, keeping a wary watch, in the pre-dawn darkness for snakes and had a quick wash and before long we were on our way. We reached just after dawn and I watched the mating process in fascination. The bull could smell Shorty and was already raring to go. After we paid the fees, Shorty was led to the paddock where the bull was waiting in anticipation.

The mating foreplay was very short and then the man who was in charge of the farm went in and caught hold of Shorty, who was a bit shy and was wary of the whole thing. Finally, as the bull mounted, the man moved swiftly and put the business end of the bull into Shorty and after a few quick thrusts, it was all over. They were made to face each other and would you believe it, they actually kissed.!! It was a wonderful sight, albeit from the ring side.

Shorty was led out and the rope was handed over to White God’s elder brother and we were on our way back. Shorty didn’t seem tired at all; in fact her walk was more brisk and there was a spring in her step. We had to cross King’s River and I decided to let her have a swim, while we rested on the banks under a tree. Boy, she liked the idea and was soon grunting and snorting in belated ecstasy is what I thought. White God’s elder brother entered the river and gave her a good scrub.

We reached the farm and have you ever felt frozen under the mid-day sun? You should have been there. I got the full treatment from my Princess. Her eyes were mad, she was pulling at the rope to take a charge at me and she was snorting as if she was raving mad. I tried to cajole her by scratching her ears, I got tossed back with just a toss of her head. I tried to pat her back, rubbing my palm down her smooth, satin soft back; I got a kick from her hind legs, which I barely managed to avoid.

The milking was over and I learnt that she had not released her normal full quantity. And that she had refused to be fed. In my life, until then, I had met head strong clefts and had subdued them with the innate charm that was resident in my soul.

I ignored the Princess.

In my hut I prepared her meal, with a wee bit extra, on the measurement scale. And then I walked out with the dry meal and placed it near where, the others were fed. The back of the hairs on my neck were not tingling but were straight up. I walked towards Shorty, by now having learnt the sounds to make from the back of my throat, and pretended that the Princess did never exist.

The dam broke.

All I heard was a scramble, a shout of warning and then the jab of hooves on my back, softly and I pretended to fall down with an exaggerated movement of flailing limbs, with one eye half open; the trick taught to me by Her itself. Before long, I felt the hot breath and the soft caring and inquiring snort and opened my eye fully to check out my status. I was staring into my Princess’s worried eyes, which changed the moment I met her look, eye to eye.

There was pure contempt at my faking.

The tail was swishing wildly and I knew it was going to be a long day. The Princess was gracious enough to have left me room to get myself up and I did just that and walked away. I heard the soft hooves behind me and I veered towards the feeding place and started to hand pump the water out. I did make no attempt to mix the feed. It was then that she took the few steps and licked my shoulder, where she had planted her hooves, now bleeding lightly, and yet I did not flinch. I pumped out the water into six, eight liter containers and began to mix the feed. She understood my anger and took the cue, by slurping off the feed without any fuss. She finished and ambled to her place and let me feed the others.

White God was amused at the byplay and began the practice of narrating the day’s incidents to the other workers when they came and in his hamlet by night. So much so that, the villagers began to accept me as a chap, who had come back and not as one who came from the City. I got those imperceptible nods by a few as they passed the farm

And life soon fell into a pattern, until the World Cup started on June 8th, night.

End of Chapter 3 Insemination and Jealousy