In Indian culture, the cow holds great importance. The cow is considered divine. Even today, people worship her, offer her naivedya (sacred food), and allow her to partake of it. This reverence has been passed down to women as well. But nowadays, true worship of the cow is rarely seen. If one sees God, one bows in respect; that is all. Today, if Gomata (Mother Cow) comes into the courtyard, people think only of the trouble she brings. Who, these days, truly cares for their own cow? Whatever is available, she eats. Sometimes, one sees her drinking dirty water. She is made to beg for food. She is left to wander.

Even in our home, the time for begging has come for our cow. As the service, so the fruit. The better the service rendered to the cow, the greater the happiness and prosperity received in return—so Shyam says.

Shyam had a cow. Her name was Mori. There was no other cow like her in the whole village, people used to say. Truly, she looked as if she had descended from heaven! Her body was full and strong, tall and broad in the flanks. She appeared dignified and calm. When well-fed, she would yield five seers of milk. Shyam’s mother took great care of her. As soon as she woke up in the morning, she would go to the cowshed. With her own hands, she would feed Mori.

She would give. The three of them would apply vermilion to her forehead. She would let the cow lick her palm. She worshipped her as if she were a goddess. The water in which the rice was washed—what they call “tandul”—she would give her to drink. This rice water is nourishing. There was always an offering reserved for the temple. That morsel, the “gograss,” she would bring and, with her own hands, give to Shyam in the cowshed. Shyam was very fond of the cow. To love and to be loved—love only grows when given. She would give just as much as was needed. Just as mother would feed the cow with her own hands, so too would she treat her as one of the family. If mother called, the cow would come running. She would let only Shyam’s mother milk her. She would not let anyone else take her milk. Just as she would give, so would she take—such was her nature. If anyone else came to milk her, she would sniff them first. If anyone else touched her udder, she would kick—except for Shyam’s mother. That cow was self-respecting, truthful, proud. If she did not love someone, she would butt them away. If anyone tried to touch her, she would say, “My affection will be lost if you do this.”

The cow in the cowshed—Mori—seemed a blessed cow to everyone at home. When she lowed, it was as if the house was adorned! She was the deity of the house. She was the very embodiment of the love, purity, affection,