It was like stepping into a fairy land. From a city covered in grey and brown, we arrived to the sanctuary of a cool green canopy, sheltering myriad insects, birds and animals. It was the small township of Bhavanisagar with the crystal river Bhavani bordering it, was in every way a city dweller’s  paradise. Added to the beauty of the place, the Government ouarters allotted to my father was huge with a huge garden surrounding it. Mango trees, gooseberry trees, coconut palm, banana trees and some exotic trees like the carob, brought from abroad and planted by the previous officers, almost hid the house from the passers by. It was here that we, the three children of the household, reared varied pets, pets that showed up as refugees and taught us a few lessons in love. 

I must start with our cow, Lakshmi and her calf, Kutty. Well, she did not come exactly a refugee. The Government authorities decided to close down the dairy farm because it was running on loss. The cattle were sold cheap and my father asked my mother’s opinion on buying one. Mother did not like the idea. Our cook, who was something of a substitute mother to my mother, observed that cow’s milk was good for children. Mother immediately relented. If it was to do with the children’s health there was noquestioning.

So came Lakshmi with Kutty. welcomed into the household as Goddess Lakshmi. She had long sharp horns, sharp as if they were sharpened by a knife and Burgur cattle are noted for their huge frames. We had never seen anything that ate so much. Shaking head to ward off the flies now and then, she ate with gusto. She ate green plants with relish, did not care much for hay. When hay was offered, she spread it on the ground and lay on it and never even tasted it. Whenever she wanted to eat out, she broke the rope that tied her  and stole into the banana grove.  We aided and abetted her, watched with fascination at her might, when she bit a big leaf and with one shake of her head, brought the whole tree down. The watchman came to get hold of the rope but she played a dodging game, now turning left and then right, with a slight shake of her head. She could not run, of course, for she had grown fat with a huge belly. But her movements and the watchman’s around her, seemed like the duo were dancing, though the watchman used to go on shouting angry words. We used to shake with mirth, watching this. Lakshmi was diagnosed with a disease of the udder that made it impossible to produce milk. Yet my parents did not think of selling her at that time.