The cow who saved me

Here we see my mom running off to feed Munchi, the cow who survived. Munchi would have died from a wound on her nose because of uncaring humans trying to tie her for slaughter. A few crazy cat ladies and kind villagers managed to gain her trust (as she severely didn’t like men and ran like, well a cow, when a man so much as came within 100 yards of her), cure her, go through the ordeal of making her ownership come to mom (to stop people from eating her) and keep her safe, and more importantly, free. Free from the noose that almost killed her, literally and metaphorically. Free from being tied down in some temple. And free from bullshit.

That’s what I like about this cow, and what I learned from her as an animal. She is fierce, in her own way, not in how a dog would bite you if it felt threatened but how she would just run away from anything that could harm her. Much like how I have perceived Buddhism. Buddhism teaches me to never inflict pain on anyone else, in any way physical or emotional. More than that, it taught me to never inflict hate. Not even if someone is trying to hit, kill, maim or hurt me. Buddhism taught me to not inflict pain on anyone EVEN if they inflict pain on me. Simply to remove any bad or negative thought or “intention”, and that is what I see in this cow. I’d say more than a cat or dog, I’d prefer my spirit animal to be a free cow.

My mother, very much like the cow she rescued, is untamed and peaceful. She has influenced me positively and to this day, inspires me to not think out of the box, but to think as though there is no box.  I perceive the world, I understand people and animals, I accept relationships and love and spirituality in all the ways that she inspired me. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t know much about my mother. I didn’t know her favorite colour until I was well over 15 (It’s brown, the shade of tree barks and faux leather) nor what she likes for breakfast until I was 25 (It’s mun dhal with lunu miris or kiribath) because frankly, I haven’t lived with my mother to know her that well. I can’t say that “she is my best friend” like most mother-daughter duo out there, but I do know that she understands me. And for that understanding, I am grateful. She understood me when I broke my heart and I lost my friend. She knew when I was upset and when the world was being unfair to me. She saw me when I was happy and accepted me for who I am, with all my flaws and mistakes. Her understanding of me, even without me saying anything, is what has kept me sane all this time. In an uncaring, cruel world, she has been the beacon that has given me hope even when everything around me threatens to collapse and suffocate me.

After all, how could she not be all that? Her heartbeat was the first sound I heard when I was just a tiny little cluster of chemicals and matter inside her. There is something deep that drives a mother to her child. A deep connection that goes far beyond anything explained by man, science or religion. A connection called love.

A dedication to a wild cow. And the crazy woman who saved her. ❤



P.s. Last year this time, my mother and her friends rescued Munchi. And we’re sad to say that we haven’t seen her in a while. We went through all the trouble to rescue her and give her a place of safety (also a boyfriend apparently!) but she ran away. I guess that’s what it’s like raising a child. You can only do so much to make sure everything is okay, and the rest is up to whatever reasoning makes more sense to you, whether it is karma, God or just life. We hope you are safe Munchi. A lot of good thoughts at you. ❤

If you would like to read the full story about “Munchi, Salawatte’s multi-religious Christmas miracle”, please read  Part One and Part Two as well as Vow for Munchi written by yours truly Al Juhara aka my mother! 🙂



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