Narrative and photographs by Devraj Singh Kalsi
My neighbour, leaning against the boundary wall, informed me that the cow stood waiting for me at the entrance gate for more than an hour. While many people feel delighted to keep others waiting, a sense of guilt pervades me in case I am held responsible for delays. Although my friends never waited for more than five minutes for me, here was a new friend from the animal world telling me there are exceptions. I wore an apologetic look when I opened the gate, with the cow stepping back to grant me the space to enter comfortably with the year-end sale shopping bags.
Our regular bovine visitor stood firm on the hind legs of patience and mooed once or twice to draw my attention to the pending chores. A sort of gentle reminder that the feeding exercise should be marked as a priority since I was back home from the marketplace now. My communication skills with human beings are poor, and here I was faced with the bigger challenge of non-verbal communication. I did not know how to make the cow understand I was really sorry – and keen to make amends by serving her some something special. After the long hour of patient wait, the cow deserved a wholesome treat. Haven’t we all heard the popular saying that the fruit of patience is always sweet? Surely, it extends to other creatures belonging to this universe because the same laws of nature govern the lives of birds and animals as well.
When I returned to the gate, the cow looked at what was in my hands. As I served her a plateful of jaggery chunks, she relished the sweet offering instead of the usual serving of potatoes and vegetable peels. Her slow mastication while establishing direct eye contact with me seemed like an act of gratitude. I stood gazing at her to see if she needed a second helping. She chose to sit down and spread positive vibes. Guessing that she needed something else, I went inside to bring wheat flour or cabbage leaves. The offered items did not make the cow restless to stand up and eat, suggesting that she was already full. She focused on better digestion and exercised self-control unlike human beings who eat excessively and then complain of bloating and over-eating.
Her presence was certainly auspicious but the stray dogs stayed away from the heavyweight cow, lurking in the corner and waiting for their daily quota of biscuits for glucose boost-up to chase cyclists and bikers. As the biscuits descended in their direction like manna from heaven, they ran together for their share while the cow looked at them once and then shut her eyes to concentrate on relaxation techniques, occasionally swishing her tail to make flies maintain a healthy distance from her body. When a cawing jet-black crow flew down and perched on her back, scanning the crumbs lying scattered on the ground to pick up its booty, I stood amazed at the precision with which the bird clutched a big chunk in its beak and flew away to the nearest branch. The dogs kept barking to vent their frustration, to mourn the substantial loss of their share. Oblivious to the chaotic goings-on around, the cow maintained her posture and reminded me of how to stay unperturbed despite chaos and confusion happening around us.
The sight of a composed, unruffled cow was inspirational and it encouraged the dogs to come near and pick up the biscuit crumbs, occasionally keeping a sharp eye on the sudden movements of the cow. Just one quick glance at what these dogs were up to assured the cow that there was no imminent danger in sight. The neighbour, who stood watching this entire spectacle, chipped in with an acerbic comment, sarcastically calling me the chosen one to perform the act of service, blessed with the special ability to match the frequency level of other creatures instead of fellow human beings.
Suspecting it was his clever strategy to duck responsibilities, I urged him to generously feed these creatures whenever he found time from his busy schedule. He said no astrologer had advised him to balance his planetary positions by feeding birds and animals. Attaching a selfish motive to the selfless act meant he saw me as a rank opportunist. Perhaps he felt I was doing it for a short span of time and the bonding exercise would conclude in a month. That this was meant to last much longer was way beyond his imagination and my revealing such grand plans would stoke up further jealousy. It was safer to let him read and interpret everything the way he liked while I should focus on what I was doing – without bothering about how my neighbours reacted to my activities. The day was not far when they would scold and shoo away the birds for turning up at my gate for their dietary needs every day.
As I turned back to enter the house, the birds swooped down in search of foodgrains. While the other species were having their share, sparrows and pigeons pecked around for the leftover stuffs. I replenished the stock on the cemented pavement garden – to enable them to locate the grains with ease. The gentle flock did not raise a flutter, allowing me the time and space to serve them with dignity.
After I came back, their chirping turned high-pitched as they gave a joyous, riotous welcome to the squirrels who came down from the rooftop. What I noticed for a change was some squirrels scoured the area for biscuit bites, suggesting a need for variety in their feed. It was not the staple grain diet but perhaps, they yearned for something sweet and tasty. While some birds were still engaged in pecking the grains, a few rebellious ones joined the troop of squirrels.
As I gained new insight into their dietary preferences, I chose to add biscuits to the menu. Their inclination to have grains looked compromised while the biscuit pieces were polished off really fast. That they were now, with each passing day, getting closer to me, feeling less threatened by human presence, flying over my head at times, and settling down near my feet, came as a pleasant surprise. That I was a harmless creature was certified by their fearlessness.
When the milkman came to deliver, he saw me surrounded by sparrows and wondered at their thriving presence in the mobile-driven world threatening their existence. Their playfulness was evident in their hopping around on the bed of grass. Their landing on the window grille to see the blooming, sun-kissed petunias created a photo-worthy scene and he clicked the fluttering birds on his smartphone before they took flight after this sudden intrusion. Maybe he clicked them mid-flight, in motion, snapping a picture worth sharing with friends and posting across social media platforms to celebrate the closeness.
The tall Asoka trees were where these birds built their nests and most of them disappeared into the green branches after this brief episode of invasion of privacy. That these birds did not have to search hard for food was a good thing since most of their daily needs were met inside the compound. Gaining easy access to eatables was ruining their habit of flying for hours. But to search for food for long hours and then return disappointed was also not a good outcome after a day of hard work. Something that demoralises and compromises the spirit of survival against all odds. The Most cute-looking in the backdrop of the photo frame were squirrels who held the biscuits firmly and took small bites. Being unable to carry them, they split the biscuits into tiny pieces and then rushed off with the booty to the garage rooftop where they could eat without any disturbance and also hoard some bits in the hollow pipes and wall cavities for consumption later.
This day offered a memorable learning lesson – a reminder that I should not leave the house without making provisions for them. I made a new year resolution: not to be casual about feeding these creatures. They should not be forced to wait for the resident to return home. Taking them for granted would amount to bad human behaviour, in line with how the world treats those who do not wield any kind of power. One never knows when their hunger pangs turn severe and when these animals turn up at the gate for their feed and relief. The refreshments should be laid out like a buffet spread – to pick whatever they like to eat, whenever they like to eat.
A diverse outdoor congregation cannot be complete without a special guest worth mentioning here: a white furry cat frequents the buffet for milk. The bowl was filled with milk. The cat slowly and cautiously emerged from behind the wall, and began to slurp from the container, taking small breaks to see what the other creatures were enjoying in the garden. Then the cat shook her head quite vigorously to signal the return of fresh energy and stretched her limbs. Spreading herself on the rubber doormat, she looks at my face. Her paws rested on her belly and this perfect chill-mode followed a wide yawn and the need for a post-lunch quick nap.
I disappeared from the scene, leaving the cat alone to enjoy some moments of privacy. Usually, the cat is afraid of dogs, but their presence outside the main gate did not impact her much. They barked a few times to assert their power and she meowed at a competitive pitch in response to register her disapproval during sleep time. Instead of choosing to retreat, the cat remained cosy in her space, and the dogs noticed the royal privilege she enjoyed inside the compound. Their mutual enmity took a backseat for the time being as the dogs chose not to waste their energy on the cat once they found an overloaded motor van to chase on the deserted road.
While they have not become best friends yet, their sense of fear and threat has reduced, giving way to tolerance. When I open the door in the morning, I find the dogs waiting outside and the cat resting on the mat on the stairs. They see each other every morning but they do not disturb each other. The same goes with birds. When the cow arrives, the dogs do not run away, just step aside to allow her space. With their growing acceptance I am more turning more sensitive to their needs.
The bowl meant for the cat has to be washed clean every day before the milk is poured. The grains for birds have to be checked for stones and the jaggery for the cow should be ant-free. No casual disposition but extreme care to ensure the best hygiene practices for them even though these creatures seem to be unaware of consuming clean things alone. Even when there is not much leisure time to serve, my conscience does not allow me to be flippant and finish off everything in a hurry. Cut down on screen time to care for them is what the inner voice urges me to do.
Ever since I chose to have other creatures as my friends, many of my lost friends and colleagues from the past have reconnected with me. Now the time I spend in the company of birds and cats and cows and dogs is claimed by human friends. I do not feel comfortable to invest heavily on my old friends who proved disloyal and seasonal. Finding a delicate balance between animal and human time is the key to keeping people as well as other creatures happy.
When I think of leaving this place, I am tied down by the needs of other creatures. A holiday trip would deprive them of food supplies so I must make arrangements for them, perhaps ask the caretaker to do it for some days. And if I leave this place forever, I must ask the person who comes next to be generous towards these creatures.
With this diversity of my animal family growing, with new members like mongoose and snakes, I am reminded of the need to be kind to all – instead of focusing on their capacity to harm. Let the slithering snake also join in and drink milk kept aside for the cat. I am confident the mixed community will not make it bare its fangs. The poison inside the snake is quite likely to remain saved unless the mongoose comes around for a challenging bloodbath session. Finding snake skin in the garage suggested it was shed recently and the serpent moved out soon after.
Now the provisions are arranged in advance to last for a month but when there are guests like monkeys trooping in once a week, the stockpile of bananas falls short. The grille gate is their acrobatic zone and they stay suspended to showcase their skills and impress. When I offer them something to eat, they come down fast and grab the eatables without a proper handshake.
Expecting surprises from monkeys is common. As the priest this year was about to perform annual prayer rituals in front of the car, a big monkey came down from the parapet and grabbed the coconut from the plate and cracked it open in front of the bonnet. The priest offered bananas and the monkey walked away quietly like a brave hero strutting the stage with swag. The priest chanted some mantras and stood watching in awe, calling it divine intervention. He said the monkey god had performed the puja successfully and there was not much left for him to do so he rode off on his scooter with mixed feelings. Whenever monkeys visit my humble abode, I am reminded of this incident that has stayed with me. Perched on the branches, they are least bothered by those shouting at them. The ground floor inhabitants do not matter at all. Learning to ignore is vital for survival. With so much to observe about animal behaviour and mannerisms, I realise I am not quite capable of understanding their feelings. The truth that the world has other important, valuable creatures we need to co-exist with becomes a palpable reality.
Devraj Singh Kalsi works as a senior copywriter in Kolkata. His short stories and essays have been published in Deccan Herald, Tehelka, Kitaab, Earthen Lamp Journal, Assam Tribune, and The Statesman. Pal Motors is his first novel.
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