India and the Holy Cow

From Here

In 2012, Narendra Modi laid a sacrilegious sin at the door of the UPA government. “This year the Indian government has declared that India is number one in beef export in the whole world.” He went on to say in his inimitable style that combines pathos, ridicule, and indignation in the most effective proportion: “White revolution or green revolution is not important for them. They want a pink revolution.”

Modi went on to become the Prime Minister of India piggybacking on the holy cow. More beef was exported from India after he became the PM! Most of the beef exporters are Hindus from North India though names of the exporting firms like Al-Kabeer and Arabian Exports mislead.

Now as Modi is completing a Jupiter’s cycle in power, India has become the second-largest beef exporter in the world, generating over $4 billion in annual revenue. Yogi’s Uttar Pradesh accounts for the majority of these shipments.

The meaning of pink revolution has undergone a radical change now, we may say.

Over 300 decomposed cow carcasses were found dumped in an open municipal dumping yard in Rajasthan recently. That figure is nothing when compared with the estimated 5 million stray cattle wandering India’s streets.

The cow is a holy animal in India. Politicians invoke her with trembling reverence. Vigilantes kill in her name. TV debates erupt over beef consumption as though the fate of civilisation depends on what someone cooks for dinner. Temples garland cows. Slogans sanctify them. Laws protect them.

And yet, every Indian street tells another story. The story of a republic of abandoned cattle. Take a walk through any North Indian city and you will see cows chewing plastic beside overflowing garbage tanks, limping though traffic, sleeping on highways, eating cardboard and medical waste, ribs protruding through dusty skin. What does sacredness mean in this country?

Just a symbol. That’s what the sacredness of the Indian cow boils down to in the end. The cow is a political metaphor. She appears in campaigns more often than in functioning shelters. Her image is defended more fiercely than her body. The sacred has become theatrical.

This is not merely hypocrisy. It reveals something unsettling about human societies. We often adore symbols while ignoring realities. Nations salute flags while neglecting citizens. Religions praise compassion while humiliating the vulnerable. We romanticise motherhood yet abandon mothers in old age. The cow is just another victim of symbolic excess.

The irony becomes darker when violence enters the picture. Human beings have been lynched merely on suspicion of transporting cattle or consuming beef. Lives have been destroyed in the name of protecting an animal that the same society often leaves to die slowly on the roadside. A man carrying meat may provoke more outrage than a starving cow eating plastic.

The contradiction is so enormous that it resembles absurdist literature.

Sacredness is easier to perform than responsibility. Feeding a cow every day is difficult. Building shelters costs money. Veterinary care requires systems and compassion. But slogans are cheap. Outrage is easy. Symbolism demands little.

And maybe that is the real tragedy: that holiness has become detached from compassion.

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