You just can’t get rid of them all.
Farmer Patrick was happy today. He had made the right decision to convert his farm from the traditional livestock enterprise to an eco-farm. The return had been good and work load had been much less than running livestock. At least he didn’t have to worry about breeding, weaning, making hay and most importantly, the meat price was not his worry anymore. Now, his focus has shifted to keeping the farm green, clean and tidy. Livestock is more for show than for sales.
The initial investment was high as he had to build a few farm stay rooms for the visiting tourists from the cities. But now he could be more relax and less dependent on the weather and soil. He still maintained a small mob of cattle and small flock of sheep. This has been his interest to focus more on breeding stocks than for meat market.
Everyone in the tour group looked in awe when Farmer Patrick brought in his price bull on a leash. It was a majestic 800 kg beast but as docile as a pet poodle.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Magnus, our price bull of the farm. He is a Red Angus breed and is 5 years old now.”
A man in the group raised his hand and asked, “how did you train him to be so quiet and obedient?”
That’s the question in the head of many of the people in the same group.
“Well, we have to do it while he was still a calf. The technique is called ‘break-in’. It means, you have to break the animal spirit to struggle, to fight back until it gives in and submits.”
“How do we do that? We choose a few good quality calves and separate them from the rest as soon as they are weaned. Then we put halters on them and tie them up on short leash every day. At first them would struggle and kick. We just let them until them became tired. This goes on for a few months until the struggling and kicking cease. By then, they are used to the leash and give up struggling. This is the time we go and touch and talk to them, for them to get use to the touching and human voice. After a few months, we will punch a hole inside their nose and put a nose ring through it. With this, we have better control as it pains them if the nose ring is pulled and they will not be restless.” Patrick gave the thin rope that attached to the nose ring of the bull a small tug to illustrate to the crowd.
“What do you do those that can’t break-in?” the man asked again.
“We cull them. Sell them to the butcher. Bad temperament is bad trait in livestock. Nobody would want to breed cattle that fight back.” Farmer Patrick explained patiently.
“How nice if I could do that to my wife.” The man who asked question said jokingly.
“My friend, that’s physical abuse and you can be charged for domestic violence” Farmer Patrick said. Everyone in the group laughed.
“That’s not the worst type of abuse. At least physical abuses leave clear evidence of assaults. There are those smart abusers who crash you mentally without a trace of presentable evidence.” Another lady joined in.
Shanthi followed the group and walked to watch sheep shearing in the next farm shed. She saw how a big fat sheep was caught, flipped over on its back and dragged by the strong shearer. The shearer then held it between his legs and started shearing its wool from the chest. Shanthi noticed that the animal just laid there and taking the assault quietly without a sound or struggle even when the shearer went too hard and scrapped a big piece of skin from its hind leg.
“Another case of break-in and give in” she thought to herself.
After the shows, the group was led to a small shed for refreshment. It was a hot summer day and everyone appreciated the cool shed and the cold lemonade being served.
A lady asked “you have cows and sheep in the farm. But why there isn’t any goat?”
Farmer Patrick smiled and replied, “Goats are bloody hard to control. They are not like sheep that can be managed easily. Goats jump over fence, they trash your vegetable garden and they use their horns on your sheep dogs. So my friends, I don’t keep them to save me some troubles.”
“Hmm… probably that’s the reason some religions depict devil as a goat face, because they don’t obey.” Another lady nodded slowly and said.
Shanthi listened and was in deep thought.
“What is better? To be a sheep or a goat?” she thought.
After the tour, the group boarded a bus that took them on a 2 hours journey back to the city.
Shanthi was sitting alone at the back. Her eyes were closed but her mind was not at rest. What she saw at the farm triggered flashback of old memories, those that she tried very hard not to remember.
Shanthi was the envy of all of her friends when she was married to Prasath at the age of 22. He was the perfect guy in the eyes of everyone, including her parents. Prasath had everything a girl wanted in a husband. He was from Brahmin cast, qualified doctor, well mannered and good looking. She thought she was the luckiest girl in the world on her wedding day.
Being a young wife, she was eager to learn how to be a good wife. She took advice from the older ladies in the family how to serve her husband and how to take care of the family. She quit her job and became a full time house carer. Her house was meticulously cleaned and tidied up.
At first, Prasath’s displeasure came as small complains. He didn’t like the color of the table cloths, or where she placed the flower pots. After a while, his complains became more frequent and more personal. He would relate his displeasure to Shanthi’s incompetence.
“How could you make such bad looking cup cakes? I m sure it is due to your lack of higher education.” He would say it in a matter of fact tone, shook his head and walked away, leaving his hurt wife with a hung head and teary eyes.
Shanthi tried her vey best to improve but she could never catch up with Prasath’s expectation. The verbal abuses started to get very personal and her family was not spared. This really hurt Shanthi but she couldn’t fight back. She had nobody to go to as well. In front of others, Prasath always put up a caring husband act and received approval from everybody including their parents.
When her mother saw that she wasn’t happy, she would tell Shanthi. “Be happy with what you have, Shanthi. You have a good husband who takes care of you. Other girls are so envious of you.”
Shanthi would just stay quiet. In her heart, she knew it must be her own fault to displease Prasath. She needed to listen more to what he said and just do things as he told her to do.
On another occasion, she had learnt not to have her own opinions if she had to please her husband.
Prasath came home and stormed into the house. He yelled at her at the door.
“Did you just ask that Bangla boy to cut my lawn?”
Sensing another verbal assault on its way, Shanthi nodded slowly.
“Are you out of your tiny, empty brain? To allow that filthy Bangla to step in my garden? I wonder if stupidity is a genetic heredity. You must have got it from your parents.”
“But he is cheaper and does a better job. Our neighbours also call for his service” Shanthi tried to defend her action.
“You stupid woman. Do you want me to throw out of here? Now get in the kitchen. I don’t want to see your less intelligent face. Why it is always you who ruin the harmony of this house? ”
In her third year of married life, Shanthi looked and behaved like a different person. She didn’t socialise with her friends anymore and her self confidence was so low that she couldn’t even decide what clothes to buy for herself. Any day that passed without being yelled at was a good day. Deep inside, she kept telling herself to listen and follow what Prasath said and he would be happier with her.
One day, Prasath came home earlier than normal day, just after her mother ended her visit and left. He was fuming as soon as he closed the front door.
“Did your mother just take something from my house?” He yelled at Shanthi loudly. She could smell whiskey in his breath.
“Those are the old clothes that you asked me to throw away. Mom is giving them to an old relative who is in the old folk home now.” Shanthi answered carefully, hoping to avoid another verbal abuse.
“Don’t lie to me. You brainless woman. She is obviously taking them to sell. I really don’t understand how your whole family can be such a bad example. Could it be bad karma in past life?”
“Prasath, please leave my family out of this.” Shanthi pleaded.
Prasath went on. “Your whole family is a bunch of useless parasites. Do you think I don’t know it? They are eyeing my wealth. If there is such thing as genetic rubbish, your family will make a classic example”
“STOP it NOW!” Shanthi was surprised to find the courage to stand up this time.
Prasath was angered by her courage. He raced up the stairs to where she was standing and grabbed her long hair from behind.
“How dare you talk back to me?” he was yelling in red face. He forced her to go down on her knees and rested his left foot on her lowered head and started rubbing his shoe on her.
“If you dare to talk back again, I will make you lick my shoes. Moron. If I were you, I would go for a plastic surgery.” Prasath let go of her and started towards the stairs.
Shanthi couldn’t take this anymore. She grabbed a hammer from a drawer and smacked Prasath in his head with all her might.
It gave a dull “thump” sound and Prasath collapsed. Before he fell onto the floor, Shanthi gave his body a push and he rolled down the stairs.
Shanthi sat on the top step of the stairs and stared at Prasath’s lifeless body for a long time and finally went to pick up the phone.
The police believed her story on how Prasath came home drunk, missed his step on the stairs and fell to his death. His post-mortem results showed high alcohol level in his blood and the heavy fall could cause the injuries in his head and neck. More importantly, everybody testified that they were loving couples and nobody had seen them in argument. There was no motive for any foul play.
The bus pulled over at the station and everyone got out. Shanthi walked slowly behind the crowd to the car park. She told herself it’s time to let the past go and begin a new life. Just as he lifted her head, to her horror, she saw Prasath. He was yelling furiously at another woman who hung her head down and didn’t reply. Shanthi was sure it was him. She followed them from behind to the car park and tailed their car back to their house. She waited in her car which she parked further down the road.
She calmly took out the iron hammer from the glove box of the car and wiped it with a velvet cloth.
Iron is more trustworthy than any man and she will make sure she does it right this time, no matter how many times she has to do it.
