(A story in lighter vein)
Tali Longkumer (IAS rtd)
[dropcap]R[/dropcap]ecent headlines in the local papers are fraught with conflict related issues that portray a picture of nervousness and frustration. Reading some good news of achievements has become a luxury item. Interestingly, the only current good news of cheer is the arrival of Amur Falcon to Doyang Region. Undercurrent rumors of hopes and despairs are plenty, but on the outside, nothing seems to be happening in the State and people at large are made to drag on with their daily chores but hoping against hope that sooner or later funds from Delhi will soon arrive. We have more of anxieties and doubts but less of hope and assurances, more of problems but less of solutions. Words of appeals and exhortations to the people to Work hard, March forward, Look forward, Pursue peace and so on has become ‘a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal’. It is indeed a simmering society in ‘The Land of Festivals’.Amidst such an unsavory environment that is detrimental to one’s health and perception, I sought an outlet to write a story of cheer to boast up the sinking morale of its readers, since readers would normally prefer to read something that is appealing or inspiring but less of insinuating in its presentation. Featuring of anecdotes of day to day humors in various forms and shapes will also help in cheering up its readers and also make paper more readable. While wrecking my brain in trying to identify a befitting story that may serve as a morale booster, I received a jerk by the sound of a knock at my door and loo! There stood our Milkman with a big smile, greeting me, “Good morning Shar”. This is his story.
He is a milkman by profession and a proud owner of four milch cows. Every day he gets fifteen liters of milk out of them. After mixing it with water, which is drawn fresh from the streams of the hills of Japfu, it is enhanced to 25 liters. He then divides it into three categories, the first is EK number milk, the 2nd DO number milk and the third TIN number. To EK number milk he adds very little water, to DO number milk he adds more water and to TIN number milk he adds little milk to water. To enhance flavor he also adds a pint of sugar to the milk. Every morning he would carry the milk personally and walk for more than three kilometers and distribute it to nearly twenty families. In delivery he is very punctual for which he feels very delighted. Only one morning he did not turn up on time, but later there was a knock and when I opened the door, to my delight, our Milkman was nonchalantly standing at the door but without the milk. On inquiring why he was late, he replied, “AJ PUJA KA DIN SHAB, RASTA MAI THORA ARAM KYA”. He was drunk. One fine morning our boy complained that the milk looked thin so I inquired the following day why the milk looked watery, he then with a disarming smile replied that recently “BHAGWAN” was so gracious that one of his cows gave birth to a calf and yesterday’s milk was obtained from that young ‘mother’ whose milk is usually watery. I then asked to which category the milk belonged to and avoiding my face he quickly replied…EK number. I had no further issue to bargain with. One day he asked me for a loan of Rs. 1000/- saying that he will be leaving for his village to see his ailing mother. He however assured me that milk will be supplied by his son during his absences. And behold, during his leave period, the quality of milk supplied by his son was much superior. Perhaps our Milkman had forgotten to teach his son the art of EK, DO and TIN formula.
I often think about the lifestyle of our Milkman. He has his dreams, needs and responsibilities. He pursue his own joys as much as we pursue ours. He has his success and failures as much as we have ours. He has his cut out responsibilities to take care of his wife and children for which he has crafted his own style in the art of milk supply under the given constrain. He is totally immersed under the canopy of his world beyond which nothing else matters. Under such a situation for survival, perhaps the theory of dividing his milk into three categories for him became more of an act of sheer survival. His plights had taught me about the multi-facets challenges that one face every day. I have develop a sense of profound sympathy for him, however my Milkman’s story somehow provokes me to think about the standard yardstick that we apply in our day to day performance while feeding our families.
