Shyama.- the black cow.

 It has been over fifty years but it is difficult not to remember Shyama, our lovely black colour cow. She came to our lives when I was about 8 or 9 year old. Our household was flooded with milk after her arrival not that we were short of milk but having ready-made availability, purity and freshness the consumption increased. Those were the days when drinking milk in the morning and evening was essential. Shyama was a healthy cow and must have been about 3 year old and would deliver her first born just a few weeks after she came to us. Sita was delivered soon at home and it was very exciting to see the new born, she was a young friend who won't resist our touching her and would respond gently and touching her fresh skin was like touching a furry animal..so soft and shiny. Shyama would initially attack us unsuccessfully when we went near Sita but gradually she understood we meant no harm and she liked when we played and paid attention to Sita. A few months went by and shyama was pregnant again the new born was named Gita a white female calf and our joy doubled with another baby friend, now we had a choice to play with and the fight amongst siblings reduced as we distributed our time between the two young four legged friends. Over period we were also growing and becoming stronger as we drank fresh, tasty and pure milk. The milk that came for the first fortnight after deliveries was even tastier and yellowish in colour. Apparently it was also nutritious and we used to get a kalakand like mithai ,made at home, with the milk that was plenty even after everyone drank.

Another year went by and we had Ramu, another addition to our family of three cows. Ramu, a male calf, was brown and white and different from Sita and Gita in colour and size (obviously), he was also very naughty as compared to his sisters and would bump us down, when not careful. Slowly, we learnt how to defend ourselves and also to play. Although naughty he also used to enjoy playing with us. He was the best companion between the three of them. Shyama, Sita and Gita would go for grazing during the day and return only at godhuli (dusk) but Ramu would be available for us to play whenever we were home. We would also run back home from school to be with him.

One day mother had to go somewhere and the responsibility of taking Shyama for grazing fell on me. Father had gone off for work and brothers went to school as mine was in the afternoon. I had learnt to take care of Shyama over the years so parents were confident that given the nature Shyama would behave in orderly fashion. When everyone left, I took the rope in my hand other end of which was tied on her neck. She followed me out of the house, then to the market, bus stand and finally after about a mile we reached the piece of land where green grass was aplenty for her to eat and there was no other cow around so the entire patch was hers. But before she had had even her first mouthful she suddenly gave me a jerk and of out goes the rope from my hand and Shyama ran so fast that even though I could run in the school with other kids, I was nowhere close to her and in a minute or two she disappeared from my vision. Shocked, I ran as fast as I could but by then Shyama was in the thick of trees and I couldn't figure out which direction to ran. Tired, anxious and worried that I will be questioned, reprimanded and perhaps beaten by mother and father both for my irresponsible behaviour due to which Shyama had run away. I sat down crying and after a while when I stopped sobbing and tears dried up, I managed to have enough courage and strength to face parents, so I got up and dejectedly started walking home. Reached home almost 4 or may be 5 hours after I had left and empty handed.

As I opened the backdoor of the house, guess what...Shyama stood there smiling and Ramu was happily getting his feed.