Rural Visit: An Interview with Keshav Ram, Owner of 16 Cows and Some Land

So, it's been a long time since I posted anything worthwhile here. I know it's not as if anybody is waiting to read the blog, but still..
This piece of work is not something I wrote strictly for the blog, but something I wrote for an assignment for my Rural Marketing course.
Thanks to Professor Harish Bijoor for compelling me to write this! I personally love the interpretation. :D

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I spotted an elderly man squatting in the middle of a field run over by grazing cows. Another, much younger man, sat a little further off watching the cows as they lazily chewed on the browned wheat strands. As he saw me approach, he stared at me warily, wondering what a city girl like me could be doing in this part of the world. When I reached where he had been peacefully sitting, I greeted him and enquired after his health. He looked a little skeptical. When I asked him next what he was doing sitting there by himself, he looked a little reluctant to talk. He began asking me who I was and what I was doing there. Jaggi had to intervene to let him know we were only “researching” there. I don’t really know if Keshav Ram knows what “research” means, but the word of a fellow sikh seemed to satisfy him. He visibly relaxed a little and told me to ask what I wanted to know. I repeated my question to him. He told me he had come there to graze his cows. I had trouble understanding his dialect and had to ask him often to repeat himself. He began to enjoy the process of explaining what he was trying to say to me with loud hand gestures. Somehow, this routine made him more open and forthcoming and he began to look upon me with more warmth. I asked him what his daily routine was. He told me that he brought the cows to graze daily at around 7.00 – 8.00 in the morning and returned home by about 11.00. When I tried to probe him about what he did the rest of the day, all I could get out of him was bas, kuch nahi. It appeared to me that the man was very content in his life just sitting and watching his cows graze. He did not seem to have any needs or wants in his life besides the roti, kapda, makaan. 75-year old Keshav Ram had moved to this village from another village 2 hours away about 20 years earlier after his wife had passed away. He had been a farmer there. He has three sons who live with him, while 2 of his sons help him take care of the cows and the dairy, the third one goes to the shehr to work. While I was speaking with Keshavji, two of the cows suddenly decided to take off. Keshavji jumped to his feet with great agility after them. He had only bounded a few steps when the younger man, who I later learnt was one of his sons, took over and brought the cows back. Keshavji returned to his spot next to me and continued his story. Two of his eldest sons were married. There were five children in the house and each of them went to a government school that was located across their house.

The family owned a total of 16 cows that they used to milk and make money out of. When I asked Keshavji how much milk the cows gave per day, he said very simply in Punjabi, “the cows give milk depending on how you treat them. Sometimes, we get 10L. of milk and sometimes, none at all.” The men would bring the cows home by 11.00 am, after which point, the wives would milk them. Later, in the evening, the brothers would deliver the milk to households in the city. In case the quantity of milk on a particular day was not enough, they admitted to adding a little water to increase the quantity.  

During my interview with Keshavji, I came to understand that the man was probably not really contributing to the household activities in any significant way. The family probably made him take the cows to the field just so he would have a routine and some sort of “job” to do each day. From a city dweller’s perspective, I find it amazing that the old man was so content with his life and was happy being idle all day. When I asked him if there was anything that bothered him in the village, he shook his head and told me he had everything that he needed right there. He pointed out to the land that he was sitting in and said, “All this land is mine”.  When I asked him how much of the land he owned, he just spread his arms out and said, “All of this.” I figured this is what retirement probably looks like to the elderly in villages after they have spent their youth toiling away on agricultural lands. Keshav Ramji was perhaps flourishing in his solitude and inactivity.