My holy mother is soya

Please don’t let the title confuse you. I don’t mean that my mother is sleeping. Even though she may well be, she is free to do whatever she pleases, whenever she feels like it. But that is a digression from the main point.

Let me start from the beginning.

Given the activism among the cow vigilantes in the recent past, I couldn’t help but think more about them and their beliefs. So they deeply believe the cow to be holy, just like their mother. In fact, they call it Gau Mata. Which is cool. The reason for this is of course, clear as daylight to anyone in India. Cows provide milk (and the base for ice-creams, cheese, flavoured yogurt etc). And indeed, significance of milk to the average Indian household is very high. If there is anyone who can say that their parents never once forced them to drink a glass of milk in their childhood (and hopefully, only then), I will change my name. Not that anyone gives a rat’s ass what I do with my name, but I do. So that’s the extent I am willing to go if anyone offers proof of that milk was not significant to their growing up years.

Many might not care anymore about how avoiding milk was a strict no-no, they might have got so busy with making sure that their kids are drinking milk too, but I remember. And the reason I remember is that I am lactose intolerant. A fact I realised much later in life. And my life has been pretty tummy-charmed since. Even though I like the overall love and respect to the female entity in this whole scene, I do think of the cow vigilantes with some envy, I admit. How is it, that there are so many people in this country, who are not lactose intolerant? Why me, god, why me? Because it is not just milk that I cannot conveniently drink when I just don’t want to eat, I can’t even go gluttonous on ice cream. My weighing scale is thankful for that small mercy, but my taste buds are not.

But given the fact that intolerances can be developed at any point in time in life, I am now wondering, what if one of these vigilantes suddenly developed lactose intolerance? They would have to minimise consumption of cow milk, clearly. But would a cow, then, remain their holy mother? I mean, she is not giving them any nourishment anymore. In fact, she has a very limited role to play in their life now.

Which brings me to my next point: What, then, is a source of nourishment? I, for one, have migrated to soya milk.  And I faithfully drink it every morning, sometimes in the evening as well. I think it is making me fat, but that is digression, again. Applying the logic of divinity’s association with nourishment, it follows therefore, that my holy mother is in fact, soya bean. The fact that she is making me fat, also fits in, after all, that is what all good Punjabi mothers do as well.

Having established my moment of revelation, I therefore now proceed to launch a tirade against the current government. Not only has it been unable to offer adequate living conditions and safe environment to cows, my mother is suffering under their watch too. Apparently acreage under soya bean has decreased by 3% this year (don’t quote me on this figure though). This, when the rain gods have been bountiful and the area under pulses increased by 35% year-on-year in the last week alone. The government is happy that overall area under pulses is growing, even though my holy mother suffers. What is this?

Also, I have a bone to pick with the FMCG companies and their new fangled notions on what sells. So my holy mother comes in a carton with John Abraham mid-air, ostensibly in a jump. Really? Is that the best evangelist these companies can find for my holy mother? John Abraham? I mean, what does this guy even stand for? I don’t think they have yet caught on to the fact that this is a new sect of a bigger religion and they just think it is some health food being peddled. I take offence to it.

Maybe since my holy mother brought me to this moment of divine revelation, however, I think she means me to do the job of expanding her empire. So I shall not be deterred by either ignorant institutions or people of this country, but bring them to light, instead. But first let me go to my refrigerator and try to seek out my holy mother’s blessings, she likes it in the cool.