Holy Cows

Cows lay in the road at night. I guess because the concrete holds the warmth of the day longer than the grass. They take night drivers by surprise. They refuse to move. They are the Holy Cows. The Holy Cows walk along the road during the day, facing on coming traffic and nonchanclantly refusing to budge. Horns beeeep, Holy Cows stand motionless. If it rains they find shelter under a shop tarpoline. Staring straight ahead – still, as if a wooden antique waiting to be purchased. If a passing curious tourists stops for a stroke, a reaction is rare. Occassionally, a grunt escapes. Or a turn of a horned head, which can appear more threatening than the intentioned curiousity behind it.

When they become hungry, the Holy Cows stick out their thick rough rolling tongues. They slowly lick spilled sauce which has bubbled over pots and now sticks to the gasoline stoves which wait to be washed outside of the chai shops. The Holy Cows graze on the street garbage – on the wooden boxes discarded, on pieces of plastic impossible to digest but possible to munch and to swallow. Often, the Holy Cows can be caught pursuing an empty packet of crisps along the road – nudging them forward with each attempted lick, and never becoming bored or frustrated and yet only being fully 'satisified' when the salty greasy foil bag is inside their Holy stomachs.

If the Holy Cows are feeling in the mood for a feast then they wander up towards the Bhagsu road, where the massive rubbish containers explode with waste. They move their heads instead the rusty openings, and feed from the trough of filth. Monkeys dance around them, sitting and swinging from the rusting frame, dropping their picked fruit stones back into the pile of rotting debris.

Occassionaly the Holy Cow can be seen assuming its Holy role. A hindu shop keeper will tempt it towards their shop. Waving fresh chapati as if it were a red cloak. If successfull, the seduced Holy Cow will stand patiently as the devotee will pray in nameste and hand feed it chapatis. If the Holy Cow accidently drops its fresh chapati, the devotee, will devotedly repeat the exercise, until the Holy Cow is fed, and therefore she is blessed. Although the blessings appear to a foreigner to be receprocal, as Holy Cows can often been seen wandering the roads with a bright red bindhi in the middle of their Holy Cow head.

When the town becomes too busy during the day they move towards the quieter areas. A favourite haunt of the Holy Cow is the pilgrim road which runs around the outside of the Tsuglagkhang Complex. The Holy Cows meander around the outside of the Dalai Lama's house oblivious to his carnivious tastes. They stroll passed the mani stones, and graze upon the mossy stone walls upon which the craved prayers lean. Pilgrims try not to be miss a Om, by preempting the direction the Holy Cows will take. Despite their Hindi roots, I have yet to see a Cow walk the pilgrimage anti-clockwise.

In fact they don't seem to be naughty Cows, for they are not disobeying anybody nor anything. The Holy Cows are Holy after all, and Holy things cannot be naughty. Can they?