mypajama.com is all about storytelling. Stories and essays are published at an alarmingly infrequent rate. Subscribe with RSS or via email.

The goat chewed absent-mindedly as a small group on the other side of the stable made merry. A bull, flanked on either side by a brown horse, was saying, “Her skin was like milk and her neck was like marble.” His friends approved of the direction the story was going in by mooing and bleating their general appreciation. The bull continued, “She nuzzled my neck, ‘Mahabali, take me! Make me a cow,’ she said.”

“This is what Ayodhya is coming to,” said a displeased voice from behind the goat. The goat turned and momentarily stopped chewing. A beautiful cow stood in front of him. There was hay in her mouth but she wasn’t chewing. She looked holy.

“I am Kurup,” the goat introduced himself and waited. Then he realised he was staring and resumed chewing.

“Suvarna,” said the cow and her eyes finally came to rest upon Kurup. “Forgive my temper. But those beasts are talking about me.”

The goat didn’t know what to say. He had been listening to the bull’s bull for quite some time now. But only now, after he had met the cow in question, had the talk started to appear distasteful.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” the cow said.

“I was purchased today… apparently,” Kurup said and shrugged. He had realised over the years that it didn’t help to dwell on the fact that he was someone’s property. In any case, for all practical purposes, he was a free goat.

A great guffaw of laughter erupted from the other end of the stable again. If Suvarna heard it, she made no show of it. Kurup fidgeted on his hooves.

“It is alright actually. I guess I shouldn’t complain. This is Ramarajya after all,” Suvarna said and smiled. Kurup kept quiet. It would be a few months before the most beloved of Ayodhya’s princes returned from his 14-year-exile and claimed the royal throne.

“It is Bharatarajya actually,” he said matter-of-factly. Then he thought for a bit and said, “Actually, it’s just a pair of sandals.”

Suvarna burst into a laugh. Kurup took the compliment quietly. He chewed quietly till Suvarna’s laughter slowly died. Then he looked up at her and she laughed again. “You are so funny!” she said eventually.

Kurup didn’t think it was that funny. But he didn’t mind. Maybe she needed to laugh.

“I hope the prince and his wife are alive and well,” said Suvarna after some time. ”

Kurup nodded. He personally saw little chance of that. Dandaka wasn’t exactly a grazing ground. Every few weeks travelers brought news of hermits attacked and mutilated by rakshasas and asuras. Even able Kshatriyas like Rama can only do so much against such beasts.

They chewed in silence for a while. The muttering and rude laughter from the other end of the stable continued.

Then Kurup turned and yelled at the bull, “Stop your mooing you piece of dung.”

A wave of silence swept the stable. The bull moved, but realised he was tethered. “Are you talking to me goat?” he said, pretending to be calm.

Kurup’s voice left him. He nodded but felt he couldn’t nod properly either.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Suvarna said.

“I know. He will probably stamp me to death the first chance he gets,” Kurup was looking at his hooves.

“Not because of that. I just meant that was rude. There is a difference between him and you. Let it be.”

Kurup didn’t think there was a difference between him and the bull. Maybe that’s why he yelled.

“You are a dead goat! There is no hope for you!” the bull was saying. Kurup agreed. The bull went on for some time and then stopped. Kurup looked around and saw him staring open mouthed at the patch of sky visible immediately above his side of the stable. Kurup couldn’t see it. Nor could Suvarna.

“Did you see that?” mooed the bull loudly, pulling at his tether, leaving inch-deep hoof marks in the soil under his feet. His cohorts scattered. None of them had been looking at the sky at that moment.

“See what?” asked Kurup, relieved to be hearing something aking to common conversation from the otherwise twisted bull.

“Someone… something… flew over us just now. It was really huge. And he… I think it was a man. He had a tail.”

“That is… That is very interesting,” Kurup said and started moving towards the bull. “Did it have wings?”

“No it… You don’t believe me do you goat? I am serious. It flew by so fast. Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Kurup lied. He was standing right next to the bull now, looking at the sky with him. He was convinced prolonged exposure to the noonday sun had done things to the bull.

“And he was holding a weapon of some kind,” the bull panted. “Also… He also had a mountain on his shoulder.”

“I wish I had seen him,” said Kurup, sounding wistful. He was actually quite happy, his imminent death having been averted. From where he stood, Suvarna looked holy.

Posted on Tuesday, August 14th, 2007 at 2:04 pm and filed under stories, ramayan.

Do you believe in destiny? Click here to read a random post.

I publish new stories and essays with alarming infrequency. To stay updated, subscribe to the RSS feed or get email updates.

Visit me at my new blog: http://www.vmohanty.com