Oru Kadhai

 

            " அத இன்னும் கொஞ்சம் நகர்த்தி வை, இங்கதா இருக்கீயா இல்ல வேற எங்கயாவது இருக்கீயா? " Thatha's voice transpires between us as we cut the bale of fodder for Rasaathi. Both Saanthi and I look at each other. She smiles saying, "அவரு இருந்திருந்தா சத்தம் போட்டு இருப்பாங்க, சரியா வெக்க சொல்லி". 

We go on to imitate thatha's canny remarks and mumbles of perfection in everyday activities around the farm and nod in agreement. 

 It is quite something isn't it, how memories transpire ? Something gets registered, perhaps in a place, an action, or the gesture; stirring up when they come together in just the right proportion, even after many years, revived once again through our collective memories.

 

 Letting out a quiet sigh I walk towards rasaathi, who's been watching us all this while. Remembering her mother Karuthamma, a Kangeyam cow, unruly as a tall tree caught in a storm. Only a few could approach her. My father was one of them. She only let those who were confident in their gentleness. Even he flailed at times; after all it is she who carried the strength of a dozen women, raging and quiet. Needless to say, I have, in my pursuit to bond, a scar from her two long horns. Rasaathi was a calf then and somehow, after we sent Karuthamma to a different farm, we grew to create our own bond.

Rasaathi lets me pet her generously. Often quiet, she's aware and contemplative. I have on my part let go of all my fears to bond with her. I take her out for grazing, provide her grain soaked water, and clean her space during my time at the farm. Then I sit beside her helping her rid of a few mosquitos and flies.