Scene From Delhi - 6

At a small, 4-way intersection at the tip of Old Delhi, two cows block a small intersection. During a lull in traffic, they strategically wander into a staggered position that effectively cuts off traffic from all but one direction. Soon traffic piles up on all sides. The cows, one stark white and one jet black, both with long horns, don't budge. They don't seem to have any purpose doing what they're doing, as always. These cows, though, are particularly stubborn in their purposelessness. They just don't move. Traffic continues to pile up on all sides. Horns are blaring, in all the myriad symphonic tones of Delhi transportation. Walkers and bikes skirt around the margins and continue on, but scooters, autos, cars, and one truck are stuck. Usually, cows in this position will lazily move on as the beeping tempo increases, feigning annoyance at the effort. In my experience, Hindus rarely will force a cow out of the way. They accomodate and suggest that it move. To wit, a Sadhu, a Hindu holy man, wearing the battered orange frock of his station and a rag around his head, a long ruffled beard hanging down to his breastbone, walks up to one of the cows and seems to plead with it to move. He gestures, shaking his hands repeatedly but slowly, totally non-threatening. The cows look at each other and continue to stand there, occasionally lifting and dropping their hooves, but not changing their orientation or position. The black cow looks better fed and in better health. He has strong shoulders and a respectable layer of fat around him. The white cow is in less enviable shape. Though nothing could hide the inherent bulk of something bovine, this one's wide arcing ribs are visible just beneath its skin. Though its color is pure and unadulterated, its legs are covered in filth, impugning its purity. The Sadhu's voice rises to a hoarse plea, but still, amazingly, no movement. Two Muslim men presumably (given the dying pinkish light) on their way to evening prayers walk past and smile at the jam. One smartly smacks the white cow on its rear and the cow makes a muffled moo and moves on down a street. The other man yells at the black cow and grabs a small rock and throws it at its backside. The black cow moves on in the opposite direction of the white one. Passing autowallahs thank the men for taking care of the problem. As traffic starts to flow again, horns still blaring in echoing annoyance, the Sadhu shakes his head, lights a beedie, grabs his shabby bag of few possessions, and walks down the street perpendicular to the listless animals. He wishes he had had more time.