February 6, 2003

Shameel Sani narrates an adventurous Eid ul Azha tale about chasing a sacrificial animal all around Islamabad

It was the spring of 1999. As our extended family sacrifices a cow on Eid ul Azha day, my uncles Azhar and Nasir bought a cow from a nearby village at a very reasonable price. It was earlier decided that the cow would be kept in Azhar khaloo’s residence since he lives near our home. Two days before Eid, my mother opposed the idea of bringing the animal home on Eid, as it would be more work for her, but her plea fell on deaf ears.

As I reached home in Islamabad’s G-6/4 sector, in the evening, tired and exhausted and also suffering from the flu and a mild fever, my wife told me that while I was saying my prayers, my khala had made a frantic call. Moments later she rang again to break the news that while being unloaded from the pick-up at her gate, the cow broke the ropes and fled. The situation warranted a swift, response and wearing my slippers, I ran in a flash.

On reaching the gate, my khala apprised me of the reckless cow and pointed in the direction it had fled. I sped in that direction when I realized that my chappals had broken; this made running a miserable affair. En route I met my youngest brother, Usmi who was returning from his evening classes. Surprised to see me in a harried state, he asked what the hurry was? As I told him, he also had a glimpse of the cow and joined me in the race.

Together we picked up speed and managed to reach her, the cow. It was long after sunset when we drew a closer look at her. She ran towards me and I barely managed to escape a head-on collision which could easily have dispatched me to the hospital. By the time I retained my balance, she took a turn towards Baazar road and fled towards the market. Both of us followed her amidst the surprised squeals of women shoppers near the market.

Nothing could stop the cow as it continued towards Embassy road. Reaching the chowk she turned left towards the Blue Area and went on galloping. Usmi and I were outclassed by her speed; I was also exhausted from fever and the broken chappals. As we reached the chowk I saw her leaving the road and going eastwards towards the Parliament Lodges. Admiring her aesthetic sense I turned towards Usmi, “Give me your chappals,” I shouted. “What?” He was flabbergasted. “Now!” I retorted.

We hurriedly exchanged shoes and I again set out in the heat, telling Usmi to follow. I then reached Parliament Lodges and saw a cop laughing at me. I kept my cool. “It must be that damned cow,” he said. “Yes,” I replied, realizing that he could be of some help.

“It went that way,” he pointed across the road towards a clump of trees. I stared in the direction and suddenly saw the cow’s silhouette running towards the Presidency. I chased her and kept her in my sight as she reached the main entrance of the Cabinet Block. The guards intelligently closed the perimeter gates forcing her to make a hopeless return. I was on the opposite side of the road when a gentleman on a motorcycle stopped nearby. “Chasing that cow?” he shouted. “Yes,” I replied.

“Hop on,” he indicated for me to jump on to the pillion seat.

Thanking God for the support, we followed the cow who was now headed towards the Presidency chowk and turned along the Constitution Avenue. Running fast in front of the Supreme Court, she then crossed the road and turned towards the State Bank of Pakistan building in front of the Pakistan Broadcasting House.

When Usmi and I had decided to take different directions, he had intelligently taken a 90 degree turn and moved towards the State Bank building where he was met by another search party sent out by our mother in the direction opposite ours. That party was headed by Ilyas, our family servant.

Surprisingly, when we reached the bank building we found that this party had finally gotten hold of the fierce creature. I realized that I should still, after all, thank the unknown rider for his support but before I could do so he turned towards me.

“Sir, thank you very much for your help in chasing our cow,” he said.

“What?” I was astounded “But this is my cow!”

“No, she is mine...” he claimed.

I felt my head spinning. Suddenly out of nowhere a car and another motorcycle stopped nearby and a number of people got out congratulating each other on recapturing the cow. “But this cow is mine,” I protested, and was joined by my party comprising of all the kids who lived on my street.

On hearing this, an old man who seemed to be the head of the family, turned towards me. Correcting his glasses, he very politely told me that they had also lost their cow from their home and that they too had kept their eyes constantly on her from the very beginning of the chase. He was sure that it was his cow.

“Did you lose sight of your cow somewhere during the chase?” he asked.

“Uhh... yes” I murmured.

“Then this cow is probably ours,” he said vehemently. Our counterparts seemed to be really delighted at the decision.

“Do you still think it’s your cow?” he graciously asked.

At that point I realized that I couldn’t truly identify the cow as I had never taken a close look at her, nor had anybody else in our party. Sensing our distress, the wise man suggested that I should accompany him to see his home and afterwards bring someone who could identify the animal so that if deemed necessary negotiations could be undertaken between the two parties.

I liked the suggestion but Ilyas did not approve. He protested that since we first got hold of her, we secured the right to keep the cow. Trying to pacify the grave situation, I accompanied them instructing Usmi to take the backup search party home.

“But my chappals,” he protested.

“Later, idiot.” I scolded him.

I went with them, saw their residence and returned home heavy hearted. When Nasir mamoo and Azhar khaloo heard the awful news they were stupefied. Later I took Azhar khaloo to the other party’s house, where he declared that the cow is not ours.

As an interim measure, Nasir mamoo registered the loss at a police station. It was also decided that another search mission be launched early in the morning. I was completely exhausted and was also running high fever, probably a result of a hopeless defeat. In a dejected mood, I slipped into my bed, hallucinating that I was still running after the cow, when my wife shook me out of my half-sleep. The police from the station had called telling us that our cow was seen running wildly on the GT Road towards the Motorway Link road.

It was one o’clock in the morning when Usmi, Nasir mamoo, Azhar khaloo and I jumped in to the car and headed towards the motorway. We combed the road looking for her but in vain. Bewildered, we decided to return, empty handed. To assuage the pain of the lost exercise, Nasir mamoo announced that we will carry out a last search and siege operation till six in the morning. The venue of the search was decided to be the area around Parliament lodges where the cow was last seen, and the operation was code-named “Search The Cow — Islamabad Storm (1999).”

Shivering in fever the next morning, I took an extra doze of pain killers and joined the search force. We took to the field and combed every inch of the land around Constitution Avenue, The State Bank, The Pakistan Engineering Council Building and the Parliament Lodges but to no avail. I have to admit that soon I lost all hope and began to calculate the loss which would be borne by each of the share holders. Nasir mamoo, a chain smoker, plunged a hopeful hand into his pocket.

“Damn, I forgot my cigarettes,” he murmured.

He then steered towards a cigarette cabin located in the Secretariat Bus Stand. We also got out of the car to catch a breath after a long search operation. As Nasir mamoo approached the boy at the cabin to buy some cigarettes, he casually inquired, “Why so early sahab? The sun has not even come up.”

“Yaar, we have been searching for a damn cow for the last 12 hours,” he replied.

“What time did you lose her?”

“Around sunset yesterday.”

“What a coincidence,” said the boy. “A wild cow came running here into the Secretariat yesterday after Maghrib. The guard closed the gate behind her so that she couldn’t go out. She is probably still there.”

“Where?” Nasir mamoo shouted.

“There,” he pointed towards the Secretariat building.

We quickly got in the car and reached the perimeter gate of the building where a guard stood tall. We got out of the car and took a closer look at the lawn inside the perimeter.

“It’s her, it’s her...” screamed Nasir mamoo and Azhar khaloo in total ecstacy.

I looked in the direction to see a furious cow, with mighty horns, her head swivelling in either direction, showing her rage in the middle of the lawn. The look in her eyes made it clear that she meant serious business. And one could not dream of messing with a creature in such a state. The guard explained how at night, the cow had come running towards him and how he had barely escaped her horns. In the momentum, she entered the gate and since it was the only gate in the fence, the guard had intelligently closed it behind her so that she was unable to escape. Azhar khaloo was all praises for his honourable discharge of duty.

Elated, our team now went into the lawn, closing the gate for security reasons. The cow watched us coming towards her and quickly arranged herself in a pre-assault position in order to meet any eventuality. One major problem was that the nukeel, the rope tied through her nose to keep her under control, was missing. This was probably how the cow was able to flee while being unloaded from the van the previous evening. Azhar khaloo finally suggested that since she was now wild, the only person who could control her was her old owner. It was deemed necessary that Nasir mamoo and Azhar khaloo should go to the village and fetch the young man to pull us out of the darned quagmire.

“Don’t try to catch her alone,” instructed Nasir mamoo before leaving. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

They both drove away and Usmi and I were left behind to guard the wild cow.

God knows what got into me when I decided to check her reflexes. As I started walking across her potential line of assault, she looked at me and without a second’s pause, rushed towards me with her deadly horns pointing forward. I took it lightly, thinking that she meant no harm and continued walking when all of a sudden I realized the gravity of the situation. Her rapid assault seemed to outstrip my own speed as I ran out of her path. I ran faster, much faster and finally ran for my life as I narrowly escaped her horns. Boy did she have some reflexes.

“That was close,” I said to Usmi.

Since it was a working day before Eid, the Secretariat seemed quite deserted as many employees were on holiday. Those present started gathering to see the famous cow who had dared to enter the Secretariat without a pass.

“Should we try to catch her?” asked someone trying to lend a helping hand.

“No, we’ll wait for her owner,” I said.

As hours passed showing no signs of either Nasir mamoo or Azhar khaloo, I decided to launch my own effort of seizing her. The mob present at that time consisted of about 20-25 people, some of them claimed they knew the art of fixing the nukeel. One of them was more helpful and brought a rope from somewhere. The crowd made a circle around her and rushed in from every direction. My brother and I held the rope, which we wrapped around her legs forcing the poor creature to fall down. At that triumphant moment, everyone cheered as the battle was won, and finally the nukeel was in place. Finally the struggle was over and the cow stood on her feet calm and under control. On their return, Nasir mamoo, Azhar khaloo and the owner of the cow were surprised to see the cow in safe custody.

We handed over the cow’s rope to Ilyas who happily guided her home. When asked why he was so late, Nasir mamoo chuckled and said how another melancholy struck when the car broke down on the way to the village. “So now when you take the cow home, I will find myself a crane to tow the poor vehicle back home. It’s been a long day.”

The next morning on Eid day I couldn’t help my reaction as my eyes fixed on a small headline in the corner of the newspaper. “Stray cow in the Secretariat.” The news described the adventure of how “a few people” chased the cow and finally got hold of her. Everyone laughed aloud.

After morning prayers, the butchers were let in to swiftly slaughter her. My brothers arranged a special barbecue that night. And while we were enjoying the gorgeous tikkas and seekh kebabs, all of us shared the common feeling that “beef had never tasted so delicious before....”

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