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Short Story:
At the slaughter house
A F Dawood
I am a bull belonging to a wealthy merchant Jalin by name. He
supplies coconuts, king coconuts, potatoes and onions in bulk quantity
to various traders in the village. The villagers call him Jalin mudalali.
He stays in an old style house with his wife and only son; the house
stands in a one acre land pregnant with coconut palms and part of the
land reserved for potato and onion cultivation.
The only two other animals Jalin possessed were a white horse and a
brown coloured Alsatian dog. Their stable and kennel were close to my
manger. Of the three animals I work hard from morning till night and I
feel that I am discriminated by Jalin mudalali. My work starts at seven
in the morning.
Jalin’s cart is loaded with coconuts, king coconuts, potatoes and
onions. I pull the cart with the load to several boutiques five
kilometres away. I do this five kilometre trip up and down about six to
seven times a day. By six in the evening I am dead tired.
Babanis, the carter, takes me to the village river for a bath once a
week, but he is very fond of beating me throughout the week for not
moving fast or when my effort to climb a hill slackens.
The horse is a bigger animals than me but ‘Whity’ lives comfortably
in the stable. Why is this ill-treatment for me? Whenever I return home,
I am tied to a fence which separates Jalin mudalali’s garden and his
neighbour’s.
Sometimes, I am in the hot sun for two or three hours, when Babanis
runs on Jalin Mudalali’s petty errands. This neighbour’s name is
Appuhamy who is a contractor to supply vegetables to hotels in the city
and village. He too has an old cow which is invariably tied to the same
fence. A youth called Kartelis works for him.
One day Kartelis crept through the fence and brought me a bucket of
water because I was bellowing in thirst. Jalin mudalali saw this.
”What’re you doing here?”
“I’m giving water to the bull because Babanis is not around.”
“Oh! You’re doing Babanis’ work?”
Jalin mudalali frowned.
“No, mudalali, because the bull is thirsty.”
“Next time when it is hungry you can buy poonac for the bull.”
Whenever Jalin mudalali attends a function, he travels with his wife
in horse carriage.
Only on such occasion Whity is tied to the carriage, otherwise it is
always in the stable; the dog Browny has no work at all; it is let loose
only in the night and then it roams all over sniffing here and there.
That is the only work of Browny. One night when I was in my manger I
told the horse.
“Whity, you’re a lucky animal.”
“Why?”
“Because the whole day you’re eating and relaxing but I’m toiling”.
“Because you’re a bull,” replied Whity,” A bull is meant to work.”
“Why? Horses can’t work?”
“Look Gona, people treat a horse as a high class society animal and
only the rich can own a horse. In the past my ancestors have been used
in battle fields by kings.”
“Do you know what my ancestors have done in the past? They have
ploughed the fields for farmers to grow food crops. Still we’re doing
that.”
I have been working for Jalin mudalali for ten years.
Through my hard labour, he has become rich. But there is no special
care and attention shown to me except the poonac and straw I get at the
end of the day and the little bit of grass I forage in the garden before
I start to work. In the meantime, I noticed that Appuhamy’s cow was
missing. One day I saw kartelis near the fence and asked him.
“What happened to the cow?”
“Appuhamy mudalali sold it.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t give milk, and it’s a loss to the mudalali.”
Kartelis told me.
“Then it’s a loss to the buyer also.”
“No, no, he will sell the cow to the butcher.” Then I knew what has
happened to the cow. A few days later, Jalin mudalali came with Babanis
to my manger.
“Mudalali, now this fellow is lazy; it doesn’t move fast.” Babanis
told pointing at me.
“Babanis, the bull is old.
“Last week I got late two times to reach market.”
“Why?” Jalin mudalali demanded.
“This fellow couldn’t climb the hill. It stopped halfway and began to
froth. After stopping for half an hour, it began to move very slowly,
and I was late by one hour.”
“Then there’s no use keeping this fellow.”
“Then mudalali, you’re going to buy a young bull?”
“First we must sell this fellow. Babanis, find me a good buyer.” I
felt very sorry when I heard this. This is the appreciation I get for
all what I have done to Jalin mudalali. For a week I was not tied to the
cart but was kept tied to a fence.
During this period many people came to see me with Jalin mudalali.
They talked about me but I did not hear what they were talking. Then one
day one man purchased me; Jalin mudalali was happy to get rid of me.
The buyer took me to a place where I saw many bulls and cows; these
animals were bellowing with tears streaming down their faces. Later I
came to know the place was a slaughter house. He spoke to a man who
seemed to be in charge of the slaughter house. His name was Bhai Bawa
and he took me to the interior of the slaughter house where so many
animals were lined up for slaughter.
They were all moaning and groaning gruffly in a way as protest. Right
in front of me I saw a bull sprawled on the ground, its feet bound
together, bleeding from the neck and struggling to its death.
Seeing this, I shuddered in desperation and bellowed incessantly,
tears brimming in my eyes. An old cow which was awaiting its gruesome
death advised me.
“No use of crying and shouting. The one that is dying there and I
belonged to a farmer. That poor cow has given gallons of milk for many
years and I have worked for the farmer in his field and pulled his cart
with goods. Finally, this is what we get. This is our fate.”
Just then Bhai Bawa came to fetch my last minute acquaintance. When
its feet were tied and brought down, the animal let out the most heart
piercing bellow. Soon it was bathed in blood and struggling; it moved no
longer. Then I saw the same man approaching me. My fate is sealed; my
end is imminent. Man’s beastly nature is amply seen. |
