Fun with Beef

If you are a cow, and you live in Canada, then I'm sorry to inform you that your life is going to suck. Your fate has already been chosen for you, and it will take you along one of two preordained paths:
If you are a dairy cow, then the duration of your existence will be spent living in an enclosure. Each morning a haggard old man will wake you up before dawn, place his hands precariously close to your private parts, and proceed to thieve all the milk that you spent the night producing for your calves. Said milk will be spirited away in a bucket, and for your donation you will receive not one word of thanks.
Perhaps you are a beef cow? In that case, you're going to live out the rest of your days cooped up in a pen - not in a pasture, since excercise will give your muscles striations that humans do not find particularly toothsome - until one day your owner will come along, slit your throat, hang you upside-down to bleed out, cut you into many pieces and ship you to a local butcher. Like your cousin the dairy cow, you will not be shown any gratitude, though perhaps someone sitting in an expensive restaurant in Toronto will congratulate the resident chef for his delicate preparation of your chateaubriand.

On the other hand, if you are a cow, and you live in India, then I would suggest that you stop reading this post immediately and take a moment to count your lucky stars - because you, my steaky friend, are on Easy Street.

Cows are sacred in India. It is written in Hindu doctrines that the Lord Shiva, one of the Holy Trinity of gods, had cows in his care and even rode around on a bull who was also a god. As such, cows are revered by all Hindu people, and it is forbidden to eat them, harm them, or restrict their movement in any way. India is therefore a country full of cows who do whatever they Damn well feel like.

Picture this: you are a Canadian (person, not cow). You get up in the morning, open your curtains, and find three cows asleep on your lawn, with two more eating the petunias in your flower garden. You get ready for work, hop in your car and head out. Not far from home, there is a sizable traffic jam, not caused by an accident or black ice but by a group of cows who have congregated in the middle of the intersection and aren't moving.
Further up the road you pass a row of parked cars, one of which is being used by a cow as a makeshift scratching post. You notice that, in relieving her painful itch, the cow has knocked off the rearview mirror and is scratching the paint job with her horns.
You stop at Starbucks for a latte. In the parking lot there are two cows fornicating, one eating cardboard coffee cups from the garbage, and a dozen-or-so more loitering about the entrance, making it difficult for customers to enter and exit the establishment. You grab your coffee and go.
You arrive at work on time, but there is a cow in your parking space, and though you try to urge it away with your horn it remains still, chewing its cud and completely ignoring you. Relegated to finding another spot, you drive to the opposite end of the lot, park, get out of the car and SPLAT! You step into a Himalayan pile of fresh cow shit.

Get the idea? This is what India is actually like! Cows are a ubiquitous presence here, and no matter how annoying or destructive they are, Indians can't do a thing about them. Causing bodily harm to a cow would be heretical (hence why potating them is out of the question), and many locals even feed the animals. It is a ceremonial event, wherein the person administers the food directly into the cow's mouth, rubs the cow's head, then gestures to the Heavens in search of a blessing.

These cows are living in the matrix - and believe me, they are taking full advantage. Last week in Pushkar I watched a shopowner look on helplessly as a cow ransacked his showroom full of precious wood carvings. Earlier that morning there had been a wedding procession through town, and any cows absorbed by the parade were being adorned with necklaces and sprinkled with flower petals.

But hands down, the "Most Benevolent" award goes to a particular cow that I have named Darius Kasparitis. I saw Darius at the Jaipur Ghat in Pushkar, where people assemble at dusk to watch the sun descend over the temples surrounding the sacred lake. There was a group of Swedish girls sitting close to us, and they were being pestered relentlessly by a 7-year-old beggar girl who had ensconced herself in their presence and was demanding rupees. The Swedes were becoming agitated and made signs to leave, when all of the sudden a cow, appearing out of nowhere, passed by and absolutely steamrolled the little girl. Stuck in the back by the cow's skull, the bite-sized rapscallion flew through the air in a massive arc, landing a few feet away amidst a pile of other tourists. For a second my heart sank, but the kid got up, dusted herself off and began to laugh uproariously. The cow just continued on its merry was as if nothing had happened. Watch out for Darius! I warn you!

Yep, Holy Cows. In India, the expression comes to life. I do think it's rather cool, allowing an animal to more or less have the run of the world, but in the end, I'll stick with Canadian cows. Alberta beef, baby. Props. One love. Respect. And don't forget to pass the BBQ sauce.