Ladki, Mangal and the World I Grew Up In

 

Ladki, Mangal and the World I Grew Up In

John Aguiar

My mother used to tell me that I was breastfed until I was about five years old. Whether I remember those early years clearly or not, one thing I do remember is how much care my mother took to ensure that I always had enough milk.

My parents bought a goat and named her Ladki. She became a part of our family, and I grew up playing with her. I remember watching her grow and, later, the excitement in our home when she delivered a kid. For us children, it was almost like welcoming a new member into the family.

There was another special occasion associated with it. We got our first taste of the delicious steamed milk pudding known as Kharvas in Marathi, called Poss in Goan tradition. It was not something we simply bought from a shop. It came from our own animal and was prepared at home. That made it all the more special.

My mother later purchased a cow so that I would have a regular supply of milk. She named her Mangal, because she had been purchased on a Tuesday. Mangal was not merely a cow kept for milk. She became my friend.

Whenever I called her, she would respond and come towards me. She loved being pampered, and I enjoyed spending time with her. To a child, an animal that recognises your voice and responds to your call is something magical. There was a bond between us that did not need words.

Over the years, the goats and cows multiplied. What had begun with one goat and one cow gradually became a small herd. My mother took responsibility not only for feeding them and providing milk but also for their general well-being.

Of course, keeping animals was not always peaceful.

There were occasions when the animals wandered into somebody's field and we would receive complaints. Sometimes the cattle strayed onto the roads and the municipality would catch them and take them away. My mother would then have to go through the process of getting them released, including paying the prescribed fine.

Whenever an animal fell ill, doctors from the Animal Husbandry Department would come and examine and treat them. I grew up watching my mother attend to these animals with the same concern and affection that she had for her family.

My mother also supplied milk to a fixed group of customers. Thus, our home became a small world centred around animals, milk and everyday rural life.

Looking back, I realise how fortunate I was.

I grew up with the smell of cow dung, cow urine and goat pellets around me. At that age, I never thought of these things as unpleasant. They were simply part of my surroundings and part of my childhood. Along with cows and goats, there were dogs and hens too. Animals were not something I merely saw from a distance or in a zoo. They were companions in my everyday life.

Today, when I look back, I feel lucky to have experienced that childhood.

Ladki, Mangal, the goats, cows, dogs and hens were not merely animals. They were part of my growing-up years. They taught me, without a textbook or a classroom, about affection, responsibility, patience and the bond between humans and animals.

Most importantly, they remind me of my mother.

She was the one who cared for them, fed them, treated them when they were ill, dealt with complaints when they strayed, brought them back when they were taken away, and ensured that her children received fresh milk.

Those memories have stayed with me for a lifetime.

Sometimes, the richest memories of childhood are not about expensive toys, holidays or grand occasions. They are about a goat called Ladki, a cow called Mangal, the excitement of a newborn kid, a bowl of homemade Kharvas, and a mother whose love extended to every living creature under her care.

That was the world I grew up in—and I consider myself fortunate to have lived it.