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I

The donkey is considered the stupidest animal. When we want to tell someone that he is totally lacking in intelligence, we call him a ‘donkey’. It is difficult to tell whether the donkey is truly without intelligence or whether its simplicity, patience and harmlessness have made it seem so. Cows can use their horns as weapons; those who have newly born calves can become as ferocious as lionesses. A dog is usually a harmless animal, but it too can sometimes get angry. But no one has ever heard of a donkey getting angry. You may hit the poor creature as much as you want. You can throw the most awful, rotten hay before it, but you will never see it looking dissatisfied. Sometimes, in the month of Baisakh, it might bray loudly. But I have never seen it looking particularly happy. A permanent sadness seems to be a constant feature of his appearance. I have never seen his expression change in good times or bad times, in times of profit or of loss. The traits that are usually found in saints are found in the highest degree in a donkey. Yet men call him stupid.

The donkey has a younger brother, and that is the ox. We tend to use the word ‘ox’ in the same way that we use the word ‘donkey’. Some people regard the ox as the biggest among fools, but I don’t agree. The ox can gore you with his horns, and sometimes he can be very stubborn. He expresses his unhappiness in many other ways. He is, therefore, not in the same category as the donkey.

A farmer called Jhuri belonging to the kachi community [vegetable growers’ caste] had two oxen, named Hira and Moti. They were of a good breed—good to look at, hard-working, tall and well built. Having stayed together and worked together for so long, they had become like brothers. They would either sit facing each other or close beside and talk to each other in a silent language. No one can tell how one understood what was going on in the other’s mind. Certainly they had some hidden powers that man, who claims to be the most superior among all living things, does not possess. They would show their affection by sniffing or licking each other. Sometimes they would lock their horns—not to fight but out of love and companionship. After all, without such special closeness any friendship is meaningless. When they were yoked to a cart or a plough and they would shake their heads and start pulling the load, each would try his best to carry the maximum load and spare the other. When they were freed after a long, hard day’s work they would lick and sniff each other and feel refreshed. When their trough was filled with fodder, they would get up together, put their heads in the trough and sit side by side to eat. When one would finish, the other too would take his head out of the trough.

Once Jhuri sent the pair to his in-laws on loan. The poor oxen didn’t know where they were being sent or why; they thought their master had sold them off. Jhuri’s brother-in-law had a tough time driving them home. If he pushed them forward, they would run to the right or the left but never ahead. If he pulled from the front, they would dig their heels in and pull backwards. If he whipped them, they would try to gore him with their horns. If god had given them the power of speech, they would have asked Jhuri, ‘Why are you sending us away? We have tried our best to serve you. If you are not satisfied with our work, we will try to work harder. We are willing to die working for you. We have never complained about anything. We have quietly eaten whatever you have given us. Why have you then sold us to this cruel man?’

By the evening the two oxen reached their new home. They hadn’t eaten all day, yet when they were brought to the trough, they would not even bring their heads close to it. Their hearts were heavy. They were sad at leaving what they had always considered their home. The new place, new village, new people—everything seemed strange.

The pair spoke to each other in their silent language. They looked at each other from the corners of their eyes and lay down. When the village lay fast asleep, they broke their ropes and started walking homewards. They had been secured with strong ropes. No one could have imagined that any oxen could break free, but these two were at that moment filled with a supernatural strength. They broke away with just one tug.

When Jhuri woke up in the morning, he saw the oxen standing at the trough. Half-broken ropes dangled from their necks. Their legs were covered in mud. Their eyes gleamed with love.

Jhuri too was very happy to see them. He ran and hugged them. That sight of man and beast hugging and kissing each other was wonderful.

Boys from far and near assembled to greet the oxen and welcome them back by clapping their hands. In the history of the village, this incident was important. The children decided that the two brave animals must be suitably ‘awarded’. Someone ran to fetch roti from their house, others gur, or choker, or hay.

One boy said, ‘No one can have such oxen.’

The other agreed, ‘They came alone from so far away!’

The third said, ‘They aren’t oxen; they were human beings in another birth.’

No one had the courage to disagree with such a statement.

Jhuri’s wife saw the oxen and was enraged. She said, ‘The disloyal creatures! They didn’t work there for even a single day! They ran away instead.’

Jhuri couldn’t stand such an accusation against his oxen. He said, ‘Why disloyal? If they weren’t fed there, what were the poor things to do?’

The wife answered with a lot of pride, ‘Yes, you are the only one who feeds his animals; others merely keep their animals on water.’

Jhuri teased her, ‘They wouldn’t have run if they had been fed.’

The wife got angry. ‘They ran away because my family doesn’t believe in spoiling animals with too much love. They give animals enough to eat, but they also know how to take work from them. These two are idlers and shirkers; that’s why they must have run away. I won’t give them oil cakes and fresh grass anymore; they’ll get dry hay, that’s all. They can eat it or go hungry.’

And that is exactly what happened. She instructed the farm helper to give them nothing but dry hay.

The oxen put their faces in the trough and found tasteless fodder. No oil cakes, no sweet, juicy grass. What were they to eat? They began to look hopefully towards the door of their shed.

Jhuri came and asked the farm helper, ‘Why haven’t you given them any oil cakes?’

‘The mistress will kill me if I do!’

‘Do it when she is not looking.’

‘No, no, later you will also scold me.’

II

The next day, Jhuri’s brother-in-law came again to take the oxen away. This time he tied them to a bullock-cart so it would be easier to drive them.

A couple of times Moti tried to push the cart off the road into the ditch but Hira pulled it back. Of the two, Hira was more patient.

They reached their new home in the evening and were tied with stout ropes. To teach them a lesson for yesterday’s mischief, they were beaten and then given dry hay to eat. Jhuri’s brother-in-law gave his own oxen plenty of fresh juicy grass and lots of oil cakes.

Hira and Moti had never been treated so badly. Jhuri had always been kind and loving. At the smallest signal from him, the two would run like the wind. Here they were beaten and then humiliated by being given dry hay.

They didn’t even raise their faces to look towards the trough.

The next day, their new master, Gaya, yoked them to the plough. But these two had, it seems, taken a vow not to lift their legs. Gaya beat them so much that he became tired, yet the pair of oxen did not lift their legs. When cruel Gaya kept hitting Hira on the nose, Moti’s anger grew out of control. He ran away with the plough. The plough, rope, pin, harness—everything broke into pieces. If they didn’t have long ropes around their necks, it would have been impossible to catch them.

Hira spoke in his mute language, ‘It is futile to run.’

Moti answered, ‘He nearly killed you.’

‘This time he will beat us even more.’

‘Let him; after all, we have been born as oxen, how long can we escape the beatings?’

Gaya was running towards them with two men in tow. The men carried stout sticks.

Moti said, ‘What do you say—shall we give him a taste of his own medicine? Look at him, coming armed with sticks!’

Hira tried to reason with him, ‘No, brother. Stand still.’

‘If anyone beats me, I shall knock down one or two.’

‘No, that is not the way we do things.’

Moti controlled his anger. Gaya reached them and began pulling them away by the ropes. It was a good thing, he didn’t beat them right then, or else there would have been no stopping Moti. Gaya and his helpers took one look at Moti and understood that it was best to postpone punishments.

Again, the same old dry hay was put before them. The two stood silently. Gaya’s family sat down to eat. A little girl came with two rotis and put one each in their mouth. Their hunger could not be slaked with that one roti, but their hearts certainly were filled to the brim. So, there were good people in this family too! The little girl had lost her mother. Her stepmother beat her often and she felt a certain fellow feeling with these oxen.

The two would be tied to the yoke all day long, beaten and whipped. In the evening they would be tied to a post. Every evening the little girl would come to feed them a roti each. Such was the wonder of this offering made out of love that despite the dry hay they were given every day, they did not become weak. But in their eyes and in every part of their body a strong sense of rebellion grew day by day.

One day, Moti spoke in his mute language, ‘I can bear it no more, Hira!’

‘What do you plan to do?’

‘I want to lift one or two of them on my horns and throw them far away.’

‘But don’t you know, that sweet little girl who feeds us a roti every day is his daughter? Won’t she become an orphan?’

‘Why don’t I throw the mistress? She beats the little girl every day.’

‘You forget, it is wrong to hurt a woman.’

‘If you won’t let me do it my way, tell me what you have in mind? Shall we break the ropes and run away again?’

‘Yes, I agree to that, but how will we break such strong ropes?’

‘There is a way out. First, let us chew the ropes a little. Then it will be easier to break them.’

At night when the little girl fed them a roti each and went away, they tried nibbling at their ropes. But they couldn’t get their teeth around the thick rope. They tried and tried but could not succeed.

Suddenly, the door opened and the little girl came in. The oxen bent their heads and began to lick her hand. Their tails stood erect. The girl patted their forehead and said, ‘I am going to untie you. Run away or else these people will kill you. I heard them talking at home; they are planning to drive a rope through your nose to tame you.’

She untied their ropes, but the two stood unmoving.

Moti asked in his mute language, ‘Why aren’t we leaving?’

Hira said, ‘If we escape, they won’t spare this poor orphan. They will suspect her.’

Suddenly, the girl cried loudly, ‘Uncle’s oxen are running away! Father! Father! Come quickly!’

Gaya ran out of the house to see what was happening. Hira and Moti sped off. Gaya ran after them. They ran faster. Gaya raised a shout. He gathered some people from the village to help him chase the fleeing animals. The two friends decided to make the most of this opportunity; they ran like they had never run before. They didn’t know where they were going. This wasn’t the way they had come. They passed unknown villages till they stopped beside a field to take stock of their situation.

Hira said, ‘It looks like we have lost our way.’

‘Why did you have to run like that? We should have just knocked him off there and then.’

‘If we had knocked him off, what would people have said? He can do wrong things if he wishes; but why should we?’

Hunger was making them restless. The field was full of tender green peas. They began to graze. Every now and then, they would raise their heads and listen for sounds of approaching footsteps.

When they had eaten their fill, a sense of freedom dawned on them and they began to jump around with joy. They bellowed loudly like oxen do, then locked their horns and began to push each other backwards playfully. Moti pushed Hira several steps back till he fell over into a ditch. Then Hira too became angry. He pulled himself out of the ditch and began to push Moti. Moti sensed that the game was no longer a game, so he abandoned it.

III

Suddenly, they saw a snorting bull rushing towards them. The two friends were taken by surprise. The bull was huge, almost the size of an elephant—and clearly it wanted to fight with them. They knew they would lose but what could they do? It was rushing towards them, bent on knocking them down.

Moti said in his mute language, ‘What terrible luck! Do you think we will get away alive from this? Think of a way out quickly!’

Hira said worriedly, ‘Look at him—he’s swollen with pride. He won’t listen to the voice of reason.’

‘Shall we run away?’

‘Cowards run away.’

‘You are welcome to die here; I am going to run.’

‘And if he chases you?’

‘Then think of a way out.’

‘The only way out is that the two of us should attack him together. I shall attack from the front; you push from behind. He will run away after this two-sided attack. If he comes towards me, you jab him in the stomach with your horns. I know it will be a tough fight, but what else can we do?’

The two friends ran together in the face of danger. The bull had no experience of fighting a collective force. He knew how to fight one enemy at a time. As he ran towards Hira, Moti attacked from the rear. When the bull turned towards him, Hira attacked. The bull wanted to defeat them one at a time but they didn’t give him a chance. The bull leapt towards Hira, determined to kill him, when Moti dashed from another side to gore him in the stomach. Enraged, it turned around to find Hira ready to attack once again. Till, finally, the poor bull ran away with the two friends giving chase. The oxen decided to leave him alone only when he fell down. Drunk on a sense of victory, they walked away, leaving the bull lying on the ground.

Moti spoke in his sign language, ‘I wanted to kill that creature.’

Hira spoke pityingly, ‘We ought not to use our horns on a fallen enemy.’

‘Rubbish! I say we should hit the fallen enemy so hard that he may never rise again.’

‘Think of a way of returning home instead.’

‘Let’s eat something; then, we will think.’

A field of green peas lay ahead. Moti entered it. Hira kept telling him not to go there but he wouldn’t listen. He had barely eaten two mouthfuls when men carrying sticks pounced on them. Hira had been standing at the edge of the field, so he could run away, but Moti was standing inside the freshly watered field. His hooves dug into the wet earth and he couldn’t run. He was caught. Hira saw his friend was in trouble so he turned back thinking, ‘If we have to get caught, let’s get caught together.’ The two friends were captured. The next morning both were put in a cattle pound.

IV

For the first time in their entire lives, the two friends spent a whole day without getting even a straw of hay to eat. They could not understand what sort of man their new master was. Even Gaya was better! There were several buffaloes in the pound, as well as goats, horses and donkeys. But none had any fodder placed before them. They lay like corpses on the ground. Some had become so weak that they could barely stand up. All day long, the two friends looked unblinkingly towards the door of the pound, but no one came to give them anything to eat. Driven by hunger, they began to lick the mud-plastered wall, but its saltiness could give them no satisfaction.

When they were not given any fodder till late at night, the fire of rebellion rose in Hira’s heart.

He said to Moti, ‘I can’t tolerate this anymore.’

Moti answered with his head bent low, ‘I feel as though I am going to die.’

‘Don’t give up so easily. We should think of a way of running away from this place. Let’s break the wall down.’

‘I don’t have the strength to do that.’

‘Is this all the strength you have? You who have always been such a show-off?’

‘Yes, all my pride is gone.’

The pound had mud walls. Hira was strong. He dug his sharp, pointed horns in the mud wall till one big chunk of dried mud fell down. Encouraged, he ran towards the wall, making repeated attacks. With every attack, more mud fell off.

At that very moment, a guard holding a lantern came to take the attendance of all the animals in the pound. He saw the damage done by Hira and beat him several times with a stick and tied him up with a stout rope.

Moti spoke, from his prone position, ‘What did you get from that display of strength? Nothing but beatings!’

‘At least I tried.’

‘What’s the point of trying when it gets you tied up more securely?’

‘I’ll keep on trying, no matter how strongly they keep on tying me.’

‘You will end up losing your life.’

‘Never mind. We shall die either way. Just imagine—if we had pulled the wall down, how many lives we could have saved! So many of our brothers are tied here. No one seems to have any strength left in his body. If they go on like this, they will die in the next few days.’

‘Yes, that is true. Come on, then. Let me try my best too.’

Moti too dug his horns in the same spot on the wall. Some more mud fell. His courage grew. He began to dig his horns into the dried mud of the wall as though he was fighting an enemy. After about two hours of hard work, the top portion of the wall fell down. He pushed again with all his strength. This time, half the wall fell down.

When a big chunk of the wall fell, the half-dead animals began to show signs of life. The three horses were the first to run away. Then the goats sped off, followed by the buffaloes. But the donkeys kept standing.

Hira asked, ‘Why don’t the two of you run away like the others?’

One of the donkeys said, ‘What if we are caught again?’

‘So what? You have the chance to escape now, make the most of it.’

‘No, we are scared; we’ll stay here.’

It was past midnight. The donkeys stood in deep thought, wondering whether to run or not and Moti was busy trying to untie his friend’s rope. When Moti finally grew tired, Hira said, ‘You go away, leave me here. Perhaps we shall meet again somewhere.’

Moti said with tears in his eyes, ‘Hira, do you think I am so selfish? We have been friends for so long. Now that you are in trouble, do you think I will leave you alone?’

Hira said, ‘They will beat us black and blue. They will know this is your handiwork.’

Moti spoke with pride, ‘I don’t care if I am beaten for the same crime for which they have tied you up with ropes. At least we were able to save the lives of eight or ten living things. At least we will get their blessings.’

And so saying, Moti shooed the two reluctant donkeys out of the pound, nudging them out with his horns. Then he went and lay down beside his friend.

There is no need to describe the commotion that took place among the manager of the pound, the watchmen and other workers. It should be enough to say that Moti was beaten up brutally and he too was tied with a thick rope.

V

The two friends remained tied up for a week. No one gave them one grain of feed or even a straw of hay. Though, once a day, water was given to them. That was all they had. They grew so weak that they could barely stand up. Their bones began to show through their skin.

One day, someone began to beat a small drum in front of the pound. By the afternoon, fifty or sixty people had gathered. The two friends were taken out and displayed. People would walk up, take one look at them and walk away in disgust. Who would want to buy such half-dead oxen?

Suddenly, a bearded man with bloodshot eyes and a cruel-looking face came up to inspect them. Digging his fingers in their haunches, he began to speak to the pound’s manager. One look at the man’s face and the two friends instantly knew who he was. They began to tremble with fear. Who was he and why he was poking his fingers in their body? They had no doubts about the answer. They looked at each other with terror-filled eyes and bent their heads.

Hira said, ‘If only we hadn’t run away from Gaya’s home! Now no one can save us.’

Moti spoke in the tone of a disbeliever, ‘They say that god has mercy for everyone. Why does He not show us His mercy?’

‘Because for Him, our living or dying makes no difference. Never mind. Think of it like this—at least we shall live with Him for some time. One day god had saved us in the guise of that little girl. He might do the same again.’

‘This man will slit our throats with his knife. You wait and see!’

‘Then why worry? Flesh, skin, bones, horns—everything will be put to some use or the other.’

On being auctioned off, the two friends went away with the bearded man. Every part of their body trembled with fear. They could barely lift their legs, but they were so scared that they stumbled on as fast as they could. The moment they slackened their pace, the man would beat them hard with his stick.

On their way, they came across a herd of cattle grazing in a field. They looked happy and healthy. Some sat about grazing, others ran and jumped and played games with each other. They led such happy lives, yet they were so selfish. They didn’t care that two of their brothers were so unhappy in the hands of a butcher.

Suddenly, the two felt as though the road they were travelling on seemed familiar. Yes, this was the path Gaya had taken them along. These were the same fields, orchards and villages. Their steps grew faster with every passing minute. All traces of weakness and tiredness left their bodies. And lo and behold, there lay their own grazing ground at the outskirts of their village. And this was the well where they used to come.

Moti said, ‘Our home is close by.’

Hira answered, ‘It is god’s grace.’

‘I shall run away to my home.’

‘Do you think he will let us?’

‘I’ll throw him down.’

‘No, no. Let’s run till our barn; we shall go no further from there.’

Like two young calves, they ran at breakneck speed. They reached the stall at their barn and came to a standstill. The bearded man too came running after them.

Jhuri was sitting at his doorstep enjoying the winter sun. He ran towards the oxen the moment he spotted them and hugged each one by one. Tears of happiness began to stream down the eyes of the two friends. One began to lick Jhuri’s hand.

The bearded man came running and grasped the trailing ropes of the oxen.

Jhuri said, ‘They are my oxen.’

‘How can they be yours? I have just bought them in an auction from the cattle pound.’

‘I think you have stolen them. Go away quietly. They are my oxen. They can be sold only when I sell them. Who has the right to auction my oxen?’

‘I shall make a report against you to the police.’

‘They are my oxen. The proof is that they are standing at my door.’

The bearded man began to angrily pull at the ropes of the two oxen. Moti turned on him with his horns. The bearded man stepped back. Moti again tried to gore him. This time the bearded man ran. Moti ran after him. They reached the village outskirts. Moti stopped and saw that the bearded man was standing at a distance making threats, shouting abuses and throwing stones at him. But Moti stood like a victorious soldier blocking his way. The people from the village stood about watching this drama and laughing. Finally, the bearded man accepted defeat and went away. Moti returned home, strutting with pride.

Hira said, ‘I was scared that you might kill him in your anger.’

‘If he had caught me, I wouldn’t have let go without killing him.’

‘He will never come here again.’

‘I will teach him a lesson if he does! He dare not touch us.’

‘What if he gets us shot?’

‘I’ll die but I won’t be of any use to him.’

‘No one cares for us.’

‘That is because we are so simple.’

Within a matter of minutes, their troughs were filled with fresh, juicy green fodder, oil cakes and grain. The two friends began to eat. Jhuri stood close by, patting them and scores of boys gathered all around to watch. The entire village seemed pleased to have them back.

And then the mistress came and kissed each one on his forehead.