Flowers of the Drumstick

A stately banyan tree cast its sleepy gaze on the old bungalow. Beside it, a red-silk cotton tree stood in a magnificent cloud of scarlet flowers. The drumstick tree, which grew just opposite the porch of the bungalow, completed the trinity. The tree was in full bloom and looked especially appealing. Its delicate bunches of pale yellow-white blossoms needed only a slight gust of wind, and lo – the ground would be speckled with flowers. The sun had already risen, and peeped through the sprawling aerial roots of the banyan tree. On the porch of the bungalow, in a snug wicker chair sat Madhurima Karnik. She had a book in her hand and a largish ginger cat in her lap. A colourful crochet shawl was wrapped around her shoulders. She was lost in a book-reverie when her mother appeared at the door and claimed her attention.
“Go and gather some drumstick flowers darling”, said her mother with a smile.
“Meow”, said the cat, looking indignant at being disturbed from her nap.
“Oooh are you making Drumstick Sambar Mummy?”, asked Madhurima, scratching the cat’s neck.
“Yes and for the third time this week!”, her mother laughed. “C’mon hurry now.”
Madhurima got up, gently deposited the cat on the wicker chair and took the basket from her mother. She fastened her sandals and ran down the steps all the way to the drumstick tree. She loved Drumstick flower Sambar and whenever the flowers were available, her mother was sure to make some. The flowers were a good source of Vitamin A and Mrs. Karnik felt that with all the incessant reading and painting the kid did, her eyes could do with an extra dose of the good vitamin.
Madhurima was studying to be an artist. With her deep brown curls and innocent blue-grey eyes, she looked like one of those angels she often tried to paint. She had just joined a degree program at the JJ school of arts in Mumbai and was home on holiday. It was the first time she had left home and missed it badly. She missed her Mum and Dad. She missed her cat Ginger-Ale (named after the ubiquitous drink from the Famous Five books she used to love as a child). She missed the countryside, the tangle of wild trees, the colourful bursts of wild flowers and most of all she missed the stars. And so, she came home whenever she had a chance.
The drumstick tree stood just opposite the porch, across the driveway. Along with the blooms, a few early drumstick pods had begun to form too. The flowers were blown along by the wind and often lay scattered in the driveway. It being the season for drumstick, there were a lot of flowers strewn on the ground, but none of them looked fresh. They were trampled and stained with soil. She wondered who had trodden on the flowers so early in the morning. It was only 8’o clock on a Sunday morning. No visitor would have dropped by that early. Had Daddy gone for a walk? But if he had, he would’ve surely brought the fresh flowers with him. They were his favourite too. Anyway one person could not possibly step on so many flowers. Madhurima brushed her speculations aside and began looking for clean flowers. After a long search, she found barely a handful.
She skipped her way back to the house, flung her shawl on the wicker chair, blew Ginger-Ale a kiss, and scampered into the kitchen.
“I didn’t get too many good ones today”, she said as she handed over the basket to her mother.
“Oh why not? I thought the tree is full of flowers.”
“It is Mummy, and it looks oh-so-beautiful”, said Madhurima with an expression of awe, “ but they were all trampled upon and muddy.”
“I expect it’s that pair of buffaloes. That cowherd has about as much sense as his buffaloes. And he’s sly too. I don’t know how he gets into the compound.”
“Buffaloes?”, asked Madhurima puzzled.
“Yes buffaloes. They get into the compound for the grass and the cowherd deliberately brings them here. I shooed them away a couple of times. Look what they’ve done this time”, Mrs. Karnik said.
“I didn’t know there was a cowherd here. Where does he come from?”
“How should I know? Just some vagabond trying to feed his buffaloes for free I guess. They trample over the flowers and sometimes they even get into my kitchen garden.”
“Oh I do like buffaloes but I wish they wouldn’t come here and spoil our flowers”, said Madhurima dreamily.
Madhurima wanted to see the buffaloes and the cowherd for herself. She was fond of all flora and fauna. As a child, she had often pestered her parents to get a goat and a cow and some chicken and even a bunch of ducks. We could make them a little pond, she’d say. And we could have duck eggs and chicken eggs for breakfast too. Her childhood dream of having a farm had given way to age and wisdom much like a silk-cotton pod scatters before the wind. Now the cowherd and his buffaloes piqued her dormant interest in farm animals and she resolved to keep an eye out for the invaders.
The rest of the day and the whole of the next day passed by without much event. It was only the day after that brought an encounter with the cowherd and his buffaloes. Madhurima woke up early that Wednesday, a good one hour before dawn. She made herself a light breakfast of cereal and fruit. She then put two bananas in a tiffin box to have for later. Back in her room, she packed up her set of watercolour paint tubes, a few good brushes, and other art paraphernalia. Tucking her portable easel under her arm, she stepped out of her room. Ginger-ale who was napping in her room, was also up by now. He padded along after her to the main door meowing loudly.
“Shhh. You’ll wake everybody up”, scolded Madhurima.
They parted ways at the main door. Ginger spotted a bird in the flower garden and went bounding after it. Madhurima had no time to spare on his antics and she set off in the opposite direction to find a good landscape to paint.
The Karnik family owned a fairly large property. The bungalow itself was a little over 100 years old and had been built by the British in typical colonial fashion. Sturdy whitewashed walls, a high porch on the front, and a high tiled ceiling gave it a majestic appearance. The front of the house, flanked by the banyan and the silk-cotton tree had a small flower garden. There was a larger vegetable patch in the backyard. Both gardens required a lot of care and if left untended for even a week, the wild threatened to take over. Further ahead of the backyard, through a tangle of thick undergrowth led a narrow path, which was the one Madhurima now took. The path led to a large field. The field was a large grassy area surrounded by an overgrown jungle of tree and bush. The wild had made its mark here and Madhurima loved its untamed beauty.
The sky had turned a wonderful shade of salmon and presaged a beautiful sunrise. Madhurima made her way through the brush and walked into the clearing in the centre of the field. All of a sudden, she realized that she was not alone. A mere couple of feet away stood a gleaming black buffalo. The buffalo had stopped grazing and was looking in Madhurima’ s direction with a curious expression on her large face. Her long curving horns were painted orange and a crude necklace of cowry shells was tied around her neck. Unlike the buffaloes one usually sees on the street, this one was exceedingly clean. You couldn’t have found a single speck of dung on her extensive rump. Even the tuft of her tail looked silky smooth as if it was brushed every day, and her horns were shiny. The only unappealing aspect was a string of drool dripping from her mouth, but perhaps that was understandable - the buffalo had been in the midst of a meal after all.
Taken aback, Madhurima froze. She had never been in such close quarters with a buffalo before. The buffalo calmly regarded her and occasionally lowered her head to curl her tongue around a bunch of grass. She deftly pulled it out of the ground and began to chew. At a short distance, on the other side of the field, Madhurima could see the other buffalo grazing peacefully. She guessed that these were the infamous buffaloes belonging to the cowherd, but the cowherd himself was nowhere to be seen.
Madhurima slowly edged away from the lead buffalo and put in a good bit of distance between her and the bovines. Only then did she relax. The buffaloes seemed peaceable and intent on grazing. The first buffalo kept looking at her, but its expression did not seem hostile. On the contrary, it seemed to be a mix of curiosity and tenderness. The docile grazing buffalo against the green backdrop made such a profound impression on her, that she decided she must reproduce the pastoral scene in paint. In a matter of minutes, she had set up her easel, taking care not to disturb or surprise the buffalo with sudden movement. The buffalo, on her part, still watched her intently.
Ten minutes had passed and Madhurima already had a rough sketch of her subject. The buffalo had moved to a newer spot to continue her grazing and yet she continued looking at her from time to time. Just then a boy no more than 16 or 17 sauntered towards the clearing. He wore a much-patched, yet clean pair of trousers and a T-shirt. He had a cane stick in his hand. He seemed surprised to see a girl painting in the clearing, and an expression of fear flitted on his face. Here comes the cowherd, thought Madhurima.
“Bhaiya!” , she called out to him.
“Jee madam. I am just a simple cowherd madam. Sorry to disturb. I’ll take my buffaloes and go”, he said and immediately hurried towards the buffaloes.
“Lalli, Kali, hurr hurr hurr”, he said striking the stick against the ground to catch the buffaloes’ attention.
“No it’s okay. Wait. Tell me your name first”, said Madhurima.
“My name is Jaywant madam. I live close by about a 15 minute walk from here”, he said hesitantly.
“You know this is private property right? Your buffaloes are… ”, Madhurima was about to reprimand him for trampling on her beloved flowers when Jaywant interrupted her with a face full of excitement.
“Look at Lalli, she’s looking at you madam. She’s not moving, even though I’m trying to call her. Hey hurr hurr Lalli.”
He walked over to Lalli the buffalo and tried to lead her away. Lalli refused to move. She looked at Jaywant mildly, and got back to a funny mix of grazing and looking at Madhurima.
“Yes. She’s been looking at me ever since I came here.”
“She’s my best buffalo madam. She’s never done something like this before. I think she wants to give you her milk. I think she likes you”, said Jaywant.
“She likes me? How do you know?” , asked Madhurima.
“Well. She never looks at anyone but me and my mother like that. Do you have a glass or a cup or something? I’ll see if she lets me milk her.”
“Really? Like now?” Madhurima was surprised.
“Yes I think so. She actually has a fixed time and a fixed place too. For milking you know. She doesn’t let us milk her if she isn’t at her cowshed and then only by me or my mother. But I think she really wants to give you a gift. Give me a cup or something madam, I’ll show you.”
Madhurima wasn’t sure what to do. It was a strange situation. Surely the milk was a precious commodity to the cowherd. Why would he just give it away? But to be sure, the buffalo was acting strange and the cowherd seemed to really love his little herd. Madhurima knew her way around animals, even though she had never handled animals as large as the buffalo. She sensed a kinship with Lalli.
“Okay I think I have a tiffin box”, said Madhurima. She rummaged in her bag and produced the box in which she had packed the bananas. It was an elongated box which held the bananas upright. With the lid off it was very like a glass, only square-ish instead of rounded. She took the bananas out and handed it to Jaywant. Then she stepped back under cover of her easel, while Jaywant crouched down by the buffalo while stroking her back. The buffalo let him milk her and placidly continued her grazing. She still stole glances at Madhurima. The frothy milk quickly filled the container and Jaywant stopped, straightened himself and handed the milk-filled makeshift glass back to Madhurima.
“Go on drink it”, said Jaywant.
Hesitantly, Madhurima brought the glass to her lips and tasted it. It was warm and slightly sweet. Tentatively, she took another sip. Realizing that she liked the taste, she soon polished off the entire container. Brushing away the stray droplets of milk on her chin she said,
“ It was amazing Jaywant. Thank you so much.”
“No Madam, say thanks to Lalli. She has never done this before. I am so surprised! Do you want to pet her? She might like that!”
“Really? I hope she won’t charge me or something?”, said Madhurima, nervously eyeing Lalli’s curved horns.
“Oh no she’s a gentle soul is my Lalli. Ekdum naram. Even children are safe with her.”
With that, Jaywant held Lalli’s head gently and waved his hand towards Madhurima. The buffalo gently raised her head and Madhurima stepped forward to pat her vast forehead.
“Scratch her under the neck Madam. They like that”.
The buffalo Lalli seemed to enjoy the attention. She craned her neck forward and shut her eyes happily.
“Just like a cat”, though Madhurima.
“You know what Jaywant”, said Madhurima suddenly. “You can bring your buffaloes – both of them – You can bring them both here every day. This field shall be theirs to graze to their hearts’ content. I’ll speak to my Dad and Mum.”
“Really Madam? I don’t have a field of my own and things are difficult at home. We don’t have enough money to buy fodder for the buffaloes. Everybody shoos us away madam. But I can pay you in milk. I will deliver one litre of milk to your door each day.”
“Oh no. That’s not needed Jaywant. My family will be happy to let them graze. And you can call me Didi.”
Jaywant’ s face lit up, as bright as the Diwali festival. “Really madam uh Didi?”, he asked.
“Just try not to trample over the drumstick flowers, okay?”, said Madhurima with a smile.