Saturday, November 26
Udaipur
Story by Maggie, photos by Dave
Everyone’s seen the photos and heard the stories: cows walk the streets of the towns in India. They are good-looking cows, and while a few are skinny, most look adequately fed. They wander mostly solo, occasionally in twos. During the day, they have no apparent direction to their meanderings. Maybe they smell good compost in the next garbage pile, maybe there’s a place they know where they can find some grass. In the hierarchy of traffic, cows reign; they yield to nothing. They cross the road where they want to, stop in the middle of the highway if it pleases them. They ignore the honks from motorists.
Women in Pushkar carry big bundles of greens and set up shop by the ghats. Someone will buy a small bunch, then give it to the next cow they encounter. By the holy bridge, there is a spot where people toss these greens over a wall to a group of cows waiting by a small shrine.
At a crossroads in Jaisalmer, a number of women are selling vegetables. Cauliflowers, eggplants, peppers, spinach and gleaming daikons are artfully arranged on cloths on the ground. It’s a bounty for onlooking cows. The women have thin sticks in their hands, ready to ward off an opportunist. One woman clucks with her tongue to send a cow on its way.
For the most part, the cows are passive, and seem oblivious to our presence, but on one occasion in Jaisalmer, I make a move a cow doesn’t like, and she starts to come after me. Later the same day, a different cow goes after Anne, coming close enough that her horn makes a mark on the back of Anne’s shirt. A huge bull snorts and bellows its way up a narrow alley one night in Udaipur. We stand aside to let it pass.
In the evenings, as the congestion of traffic and pedestrians clears, the cows seem to pick up their pace and gain a sense of direction. Two cows, or a handful, can be seen walking purposefully down the street. Outside a home, a number of them gather. It is then you realize that Indian urban cows, like their cousins everywhere, come home for the night. They have owners who care for them. Their pasture is the city, their barn a paved corner.
Udaipur
Story by Maggie, photos by Dave
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| Please click on any pic to enlarge the images. |
Everyone’s seen the photos and heard the stories: cows walk the streets of the towns in India. They are good-looking cows, and while a few are skinny, most look adequately fed. They wander mostly solo, occasionally in twos. During the day, they have no apparent direction to their meanderings. Maybe they smell good compost in the next garbage pile, maybe there’s a place they know where they can find some grass. In the hierarchy of traffic, cows reign; they yield to nothing. They cross the road where they want to, stop in the middle of the highway if it pleases them. They ignore the honks from motorists.
Women in Pushkar carry big bundles of greens and set up shop by the ghats. Someone will buy a small bunch, then give it to the next cow they encounter. By the holy bridge, there is a spot where people toss these greens over a wall to a group of cows waiting by a small shrine.
At a crossroads in Jaisalmer, a number of women are selling vegetables. Cauliflowers, eggplants, peppers, spinach and gleaming daikons are artfully arranged on cloths on the ground. It’s a bounty for onlooking cows. The women have thin sticks in their hands, ready to ward off an opportunist. One woman clucks with her tongue to send a cow on its way.
For the most part, the cows are passive, and seem oblivious to our presence, but on one occasion in Jaisalmer, I make a move a cow doesn’t like, and she starts to come after me. Later the same day, a different cow goes after Anne, coming close enough that her horn makes a mark on the back of Anne’s shirt. A huge bull snorts and bellows its way up a narrow alley one night in Udaipur. We stand aside to let it pass.
In the evenings, as the congestion of traffic and pedestrians clears, the cows seem to pick up their pace and gain a sense of direction. Two cows, or a handful, can be seen walking purposefully down the street. Outside a home, a number of them gather. It is then you realize that Indian urban cows, like their cousins everywhere, come home for the night. They have owners who care for them. Their pasture is the city, their barn a paved corner.
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| Passing by on the wrong end of a cow! |
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| A couple of young ones, not old enough to wander the streets. Note the nice cow pats! |
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| Just chewing on her own tail! |
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| Sure sign of cow to avoid - the head down. |
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| Taking a break from cow-dodging |
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| A successful avoidance. |
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| Unsuccessful cow dodging - Anne almost gored by the one on the right that jumped up and went after her, Maggie & the Indian couple escaped unscathed. |
Love your culturally appropriate attire! ❤️Modest dress with leggings and KEENS.
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