As they walked down the tarred road, they wondered if they would ever come back to their picturesque village again. Often, they had seen their friends and family being taken away like this and none had returned.
They had heard of horror stories, of being butchered. hung to dry and cut to pieces for the humans to enjoy.
But weren't they peace-loving, grass eating herbivore, giving good milk to their owners? Why did the humans do it to them?
They prayed for a quick and painless death as they walked in the hot sun.
Enough was enough. The bullizens and cowizens of Barnland were fed up with the proceedings in the current Dairyocratic election for the Prime Sinister of Barn. The candidates were Filthy Pig, an Opportunistic Dog and the Useless Hen.
Last term Lame Horse hayed away time. This year point of contention is mechanized milking. The dairy animals were happy that with no electricity it would not be possible. But suddenly these power lines appeared. Whoever won, it looked like a machine would milk them.
So, with only one thing in mind, 'Reservation', they took to the streets and rioted.
Hah!! â€œJust a bunch of cows,â€ thought the theme photographer. â€œHere in the middle of the desert where the only indicators of modern life are a highway and a few power towers, these cows are another indicator of humanity.â€
â€œYou see cows only where there are humans. For some humans, they are important part of economy and religion. For some they are food. Cows are just the right subject to show human dominance even in this desert.â€
He smiled to himself and clicked. Just then he saw a raging bull, collecting more rage, bulls-eyeing on him to dart at him.
My father was a cowherd and even I dreamed of being a cowherd. But in my growing years, my father asked me to study well, so that I would get a good job and make my name in the society. But the thought arose why my father didnâ€™t want me to be cowherd. Wasnâ€™t he happy with his job, or was he regarded as unfit for society? Even today my father is a cowherd, but when he crosses this road he feels proud, when villagers say this road was constructed by his son who is an engineer..
Moo was the fastest in the herd. The owner proudly rode on its back. The herd looked up to its elegance. The champion!
But time can be cunning. One morning, a new animal entered the herd. Dazzling white. Fast as flash! It even let the owner hold its horns while he rode on it! Moo found it weird. It could stay immovable for hours. Roared royally, moved gracefully. And it had no eyes!
As days passed, Moo felt ignored. Left the herd, his last thoughts rumbling with confusion. â€˜What a weird blind beast! And they call it Yamaha-R15!â€™
Driver: "Ah! These cows block the roads daily and cause traffic jams."
Foreign tourist: "Aren't they provided any shelter then? Or they keep straying on roads?"
Driver: "Who cares, Madam! They have taken a few steps to manage them and provide shelter but let's see how it goes."
Both of them came out of the taxi.
The driver, with a medium length wooden stick in hand, for pushing them aside the road and the tourist lady, with a wreath to worship the cow.
The stick was belittled by the wreath recognizing the Indian values from a foreigner..
Beep, beep, honked the ambulance for the umpteenth time. The cattle rampage on the road wouldn't stop; her heart sank, worrying whether they would reach the hospital on time. Her son moaned in pain with the burns. She regretted sending him with food for the calves. She couldn't blame the cattle for the ranch was in ashes. She cursed the person whose greed caused all this. Back in the city her husband just got off the phone smirking. "Now I can start my new factory, now that I got rid of the ranch.".