Humbhah, hummbhah, hummmbhah…

When the sun has tilted much towards the western sky, when the washed cloths hung from the barbed wire fence along the big public pond have become crispy dry, and when chilly winds have starting blowing and gaining pace, it now happens to be her turn to come back home.

Until now she has been converting her belly into a huge drum with long grasses of the HAOR, or water hyacinth from one of the numerous pond sand ditches of this small, sleepy, remote township, Sunamganj. With all the stomachs full to the threshold, she suddenly remembers her young. And when she rushes along the bank of the big public pond, who dares intercept the momentum?

Here, the young had been sleeping behind the heaves of straw in holy silence, with only intermittent wagging of the tiny tail to drive the disturbing flies away, showing any sign of life whatsoever. Now life stages a come back here as well. With sweet, young tone, it responds, embah and jumps on its feet.

The cow moves past the tubewell, along the bamboo fencing of the vegetable orchard, the clerks’ quarter, over the open, earthen drain of bathing sewer, and enters the GOYAL. Hopping and jumping, the calf reaches its mother and starts sucking milk. White foams develop, spill through the white teeth and remain blossomed around his jaws. The mother in endless affection, tender sand licks the young, head to tail. She licks and licks and licks, as if to compensate for the long absence. The soft hair becomes neatly combed. No human comb or jell can achieve such shining, flawless hair dressing.

It is however quite a different story in the morning. The cow is milked to her limits. With first few initial sips, when the milk starts coming out, the calf is taken forcibly away. The cow and the young watch, as they are deprived of – the cow of the natural right to feeding her young, the young the universal right to its feed- the bucket filling with fresh, snow-white milk. At last when the calf is let loose, there is no milk whatsoever. The cow is let loose too. The young trails her, sucking from the back. It heavily butts with its head to jerk the milk out. There is none but pain. The cow becomes angry and kicks mercilessly on her dear child. Who knows whom the kicks are actually for!

The kid is refrained and put inside the bamboo quarantine.

Now, the cow is led to the grassy fields around the bungalow, the little, lash green Prairie. The young follows her, still sucking milk from the back. The mother is tethered in the field. Her world is now limited to the circle the rope can make her. The young is free and the whole world is now wide and open.

Wagging the tail upward, the young hops, jumps and runs away… away, away, far away – past the bungalow gate, across the main road, through the Jubilee School playground. The cow forgets about grazing and stares anxiously at her fast disappearing, wicked off spring. On its way, the young nears a grazing goat and tries to smell. It goes to a dog, wondering what it might be. Exposing the fearsome teeth, the dog gives an angry look at the calf. Seeing this, the cow becomes restless. She tries to uproot the pole or tear the rope apart but to no avail, the rope and pole are too strong and so is the dry, stony soil!

On the other hand, the race continues in quest for knowing the unknown, seeing the unseen. The moon-headed reaches the Surma River. With endless surprise, it looks at the water. Black something is moving there. Funny! Those two-legged, who deprive it of the morning meal, are on those and they are not moving. Strange! Are they going somewhere to cheat calves like him!

With a pleasant shake of his soft silky head, the calf dances around and comes back to his mother. The mother feels relieved and resumes grazing under the cool twilight.

This goes on until the sun sets over the horizon turning the sky brilliantly crimson.

The noisy crows start heading home breaking the tranquil evening into pieces. It looks like these call others to remind an inevitable return. The bats start gliding towards the east in utter laziness, ‘hi, what’s the hurry?’So do the residents of the town from the bazaar. Some wrap them up in warm, soft shawls and roll, like Syed Mujtaba Ali in Kabul outskirts, towards the bazaar in explicit enjoyment of the time, place and leisure.

The Muazzin calls from the Court Masjid Minar in his usual melancholy tone. The rhythmic Uloo-loo of Hindu ladies from Ukilpara, the sweet ringing of the bronze bells and the heavy, flat tune of the conch notify the break of yet another day. Pungent but sweet smell of DHOOP broadcasts in every direction. The cow is freed from ground and led towards the shed. Her sporty kid does not follow suit. Every often it deviates from the return path forcing the cow to stop on her feet. As the calf goes away, she turns her head towards the trail. Beating, severely twisting her tail cannot set her to motion. She keeps standing like a rock.

The human is forced to lift the calf on lap or she would not move an inch. Seeing her kid so hugged up, she now steps forward. Does it produce any pride in her? Her kid is now like any human kid, enjoying the affectionate lap of a human.

Other cows are already in the shed lit mysteriously reddish with the residual rays, some sitting and some standing. They are all chewing retrieving food stored in stomach. Fed and satisfied, the kid finds its comfortable warm corner cushioned with dry straw. He has no fear, he is buffered by mom, aunt and big, big cousins. There is also an old grandma. It lies on the straw bed. Enough has been sported out there. Exhausted!

Another day passes into dark, together, resting night.

The next morning the mother cow cannot lift herself on her legs. She repeatedly tries but endless weakness forces her every time to the ground. At last when she tries with all her energy, she totally collapses and loses all her strength.

Stretching the long neck in a curve, she keeps lying almost still. Due to the uncontrolled fall, one of the legs got strangled beneath her big body. She feebly tries, like paralyzed persons, to free but cannot. At this, human beings become kind and free her leg to a comfortable position.

The calf comes to its mother in eager steps, smells her for a while and tries to suck milk. But it cannot reach out to the nipples; it cannot move the leg from hiding the stuff. After a few abortive trials, it goes back to its corner in sobbing emotion. His nostrils expand and squeeze, much like damsels and kids do when hurt. How come Mom starts behaving like the cruel two-legged?

Does not Mom feel that he is hungry? It is past noon now! Has her tendering warm tongue gone cold?

But his mother is above all the mundane emotions and feelings. Conditions take a turn towards the worse. Foams develop and start oozing through her pale mouth. Hope is fast fading away.

An Animal Doctor is called in, after tracing him through the whole forenoon. At the very first sight, he shakes his head in indifferent despair but as the last effort pushes a big hypodermic needle in preparation for injection. Black stream of blood oozes out, indicating little hope for any recovery. He refrains from pushing the drug. It is no use whatsoever. All is lost.

With a few last jerks, she passes away and lay cold and dead on the moist floor.

Hearing the news, a cobbler comes with laborers in the afternoon. They tie the cow’s legs with rope in pairs. Pushing a bamboo through the couple of loops, they lift the cow on their shoulders and start moving out towards the river side. The calf stares indifferently. Is mom today going out on the two-leggeds’ shoulders for grazing ? May be! It turns back and goes to its bed of straw.

As usual, the day rolls in its eternal cycle towards the night. Chill afternoon winds start blowing from the north and the setting sun lit the shed up in a sobre, soft, somber glow. The affectionate glows of the setting sun gives a heavenly color to the cow shed, as before.

The weak, hungry calf goes on calling, embay, embay, embay …

Incident: Sungamganj (BD), 1975

Engr. Mohammad Mozammel Ali
BSc CE, BUET, 1984