A Poser

It was a fabulous evening on an exquisite shoreline of Southern Goa. Along with bunch of my best girl friends I was accompanied with my classmates and rest of my juniors.  Posing for the memorable shoots and snaps were for all time in our ‘must to do things’ outline.  Around 7.30pm the HEAD of the Department announced that we got to leave the place for the day.  Despite of all day fun and fair, my classmates were not ready to leave the place. Somehow we got into our bus. Everyone in the bus was too active discussing about the day and the next day to-do list, when something in the vehicle in front of me caught my interest.

It was a tempo. And for some reason, it came closer to our vehicle, I took a closer look. The back was open, of course, and dark. But something shone in the headlights. I tried leaning closer, and made out the forms of four pigs.

They stood swaying slightly in the motion of the vehicle. Their necks laced with rope that anchored them safely. It was the look in their eyes that caught me.

I wondered where I had seen such a look before. Then I recalled.

On my way to a market in Mumbai, I often pass a butcher’s shop. The skinned carcasses of pigs hang there waiting for customers to demand a choice piece. And, often, I have seen, to my dismay, a live pig tied at the food of the stall, just below the mass of skinned flesh.

The look in the pig’s eyes is unforgettable. It is not of fear. With the instinct every animal has, the pig knows exactly why it is there. It knows it will die. And the look in its eyes is one of resignation, a glazing over as if it could not care anymore.

If the pig could pray, it would probably hope for a painless end.

But I don’t think pigs are thus enabled. So there was no anticipation, no horror, only a quiet acceptance. It could not be the same pig, of course, day after day. But they all had the same eyes.

The same look now faced me as I watched these pigs juggling along in the tempo ahead of my bus.

It injured my heart. How terrible to know that death waited. Many might argue that pigs are only animals and cannot be attributed with feelings. But I choose to disagree. However it makes me wildly uncomfortable. Comfort would exist in thinking animals know nothing and live every moment for it.

But my familiarity tells me otherwise. And a person who has lived with or watched flora and fauna closely knows they have sensibilities, only they are dissimilar from that of humans. I know these pigs knew.

How mixed up we humans are. There is a part of me that enjoys ethnic cooking. Not too long ago, I ordered a kilo of biryani from ‘Saibini’@ Dadar west, which I relished at my dinner table. I am quite at alleviating partaking of a meat or fish dish if it is well cooked.

Yet, the notion of butcher, of killing an animal that can look at me with accusing eyes hurts me to my very bones.

I know it is not viable to expect the entire world to turn vegetarian. I wonder, in fact, if even I, born a vegetarian, can really give up eating the occasional cold cut or meat dish completely, Or if I want to.

But, as humans, maybe we could all agree to be more benevolent even towards the animals we kill for food. Treat them with compassion and not to kill more than we need, after all, all life is sacred, and needs to be treated with respect.