Grass is Greenest Here: A Desi Cow Repents

Satire

Grass is Greenest Here: A Desi Cow Repents

D

ear Gau Rakshak,

Allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m a feminist, free-thinking Indian cow with a personality of my own (Hilarious AF | Eat, Chew, Repeat| Winner, CudFest ’16 ‘15| #Vegan4Life).

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I wrote a letter last year, as a young cow with a loose jaw and an insatiable appetite for grass (#420). As a result of my brash idealism, in a letter to former defence minister Manohar Parrikar, I spoke about my intent to leave this country for greener pastures (Codename: Operation Gauxit). It was a low phase of my young life. I was hoping to move to Canada, where I would not be expected to churn out 30 litres of milk a day to prove my worth, and where people didn’t stick their hands out of moving rickshaws to whack my backside before an interview.

But I think I spoke too soon about leaving the country. Justin’s fitting pants had turned my foolish head. But now I’ve come to a mature conclusion. So what if women constantly whisper prayers into my ears to make Chintu’s father want less sex? The fact is that I will never be loved anywhere else, the way I’m loved here. The grass is greenest in India. #JanaGanaMana

In fact, my popularity is so dizzyingly high these days that I’ve realised it’s tough to walk away from the adulation. Why only last Sunday, I went for an evening stroll to Bandstand and the crowds left Salman Khan’s house and flocked to me. They recognised me from my hit TV show, The Real Cow Wives of Mumbai. Some of them even wanted my autograph on my column that appears in The Times of India’s edit page called “Cow Pow”, where I talk about my innermost bovine sexual fantasies.

And I owe it all to you, dear gau rakshak. You have made me the poster girl of India, so much so that even poor Alia is feeling the pressure. And it’s not just Alia. In your enthusiasm to project me as the messiah of the animal kingdom and protect me with all your might, you’ve created a rift in our world.

Some cows are getting drunk with power and demanding that the bulls should carry out menial chores for them, while they go out and put milk on someone’s table. I’m aware that humans are used to being treated differently on the basis of gender, but we cattle didn’t care much about gender bias between bites of cud. Unfortunately, the bulls in our lives are starting to get a little upset.

Along with #NotAllGais, may I also suggest that you stop perhaps relying on us for love and affection, and find someone else (a human perhaps?) that you want to protect.

I may be a free-thinking feminist, but I respect men. How would you like to be eaten in sandwiches and called “not as good as beef, dude”?

Let me tell you this, all animals are beginning to notice how you favour me. And they aren’t taking it too kindly. The dogs aren’t friendly anymore; they want to know when their torture will be punishable with life imprisonment. The monkeys in Vellore are wondering when Indians will declare their urine divine. The nilgai want to drop the word nil from their names and do away with the vermin tag for their species.

As a mature cow with a strong motherly instinct, I want to use my influence to fight against the cruelty of all animals and of course, still grace the cover of Femina next month. That is why, I propose we unite under a #NotAllGais banner. It’ll be a safe space for animals to come and vent out their issues against the dominance of cows, monitored by some of the most moderate, peaceful gais in the country. It will make us look noble, socially responsible, and I may even make it to the cover of Savvy, the woman of substance.

Along with #NotAllGais, may I also suggest that you stop perhaps relying on us for love and affection, and find someone else (a human perhaps?) that you want to protect. You may want to consider moving your thoughts away from the gau shala for a while and focus on building a nice road for yourself and a village instead.

Let’s look at this practically. There’s nothing more unattractive than a middle-aged mama’s boy and it shows us both in bad light. Also, it may come in the way of my endorsement for Complan and other planned foods, where I am to be seen as a modern mother raising an independent child.

We can rule the world together, dear gau rakshak, you and I, especially now with Yogi Adityanath as the leading cow lover. It’s only a matter of time before I kick out the tiger and become India’s national animal. My LA agent (the same fellow who represents Priyanka Chopra) tells me that I am slated to get the lead role in Woody Allen’s new tragicomedy, The Laughing Cow. And you, dear gau rakshak, will find a special mention in my Oscar acceptance speech.

Until then, keep your mata issues under control.

Love,

Gau mata

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