Cows In Mysore

In that district of cow stalls, their haven is a palm-grown promenade. They return at twilight from their routes, alone or in twos and threes They thread their way past intersections, all motorists giving way By day they comb the city, browsing on provender left in baskets Each cow has a route; checking for kitchen scraps at certain spots South of Mysore's city center, there is this special palm-lined street Every few addresses is a stall for cows, right among people's houses The contentment of cows is not a commercial slogan here This interspecies street brings back my fondness for cows I learned it from my father's long deep sniffs of appreciation In Sirsi's Marikamba Temple, also at twilight, I see altar-stalls Where a pair of cows have been rubbed down with ghee I feel fondness, expressed by someone else's buttery hands In Banavasi's ancient temple, the bull statue breathes delight It sits before the sacred lingam, on the same level with visitors Humble at Shiva's feet, it is the storehouse of a special spark From its expression, I know it was browsing on fragrant flowers This thousand-year-old Nandi bull was touched by many hands Each day worshippers touch its face, then touch their head or heart After centuries of touching lightly, just a patina on the still- rough stone Just a blush beginning on skin of fruit, not like in Hangzhou Near Lingyin Monastery, where Happy Buddha's belly and face Are rubbed each day, with covetous touch, for good luck After a thousand years, the marble shows a glassy sheen Mysore February 2015