What happens when the city comes to the village? You get very savvy denizens such as young Ravi of Bellandur on the suburbs. You can't miss him at the livestock section of the ongoing Krishi Mela on the GKVK Campus in Bangalore.
There he was with a pair of magnificently white oxen, lovingly decorated, with eye makeup that would put Lady Gaga to shame, their horns decorated not with garish tinsel but polyester flowers in muted colours. And if this didn't stop you in your tracks, a board saying Rs. 3 lakh did. As you wondered whose head held higher — the animals' or Ravi's — the latter won hands down.
“Is that for one ox or both?” asked an admiring onlooker.
“For both.”
“So if you get that price, would you sell them?”
“No. Not even for Rs. 50 lakh.”
“Then why did you put up the price tag,” asked the city gent who said under his breath that a low-end car was cheaper.
“Because you all should know the value of us farmers.”
The crowd grew bigger and a murmur of applause went around.
The nine-year-old animals were from the local gene pool. “Halli kar,” said Mr. Ravi with a swagger. He claimed he put them to work six months a year though their beautiful skin didn't bear any calluses typical of beasts of burden.
He also claimed that he fed them five litres of milk twice a day, apart from the usual cattlefeed.
The remaining half of the year, “they are showpieces at jatres”. “You should have seen them after Ganesha habba. Their next programme is at Kukke.”
Mr. Ravi has three acres at Bellandur. But he confesses he's comfortable because he owns an unspecified number of apartments. “This is a tradition which my father and grandfather followed.”
His three-year old son has learned to control the bullocks while his seven-year-old daughter is a veteran at it.
His friend, his eyes twinkling with amused mischief, turned to the still gawping audience and said: “She takes them for a walk just like you people take your dogs out.”
