In a land of green fields bordered by dark forests, there lived a farmer. He owned a buffalo named Dreamie, who had three young daughters. The farmer named the first one Cinderella, the second Miss Muffet, and the third was called Red Riding Hood. They led a pleasant life, going out to graze all day in green hills, and returning home at sunset, and settling down to chat around their mother before falling asleep.
The farmer was an unusual man. Something of a loner, he had never taken a family, nor did he spend much time in the village pubs. The other villagers made no effort to befriend him, whispers having gone around that the farmer had some strange qualities. In particular, it was said that he could understand the voices of the animals.
They were not wrong. The farmer (though not very often, being the silent type), spoke to his little herd and understood them when they replied to them. He would sometimes come into the stables silently, and sit a little away from them, listening to the girls chatting to each other. Once in a while, he told them stories of his life, the village and the world beyond. They listened, chewed the cud, and fell asleep dreaming of the things they heard.
As days passed, the three little ones grew up into young buffaloes. They were each different from the other. Cinderella the eldest was sensitive and artistic, and prettier than the others. She had dark eyes that often stared long into the distance, daydreaming. Many things interested Cinderella, the world, its people and their ways. The farmer always got a lot of questions from her. Her taste for finer things led her to usually venture out further than the others in search of places where the grass tasted better, the water was sweeter, and the tree that had the coolest shade. To herself, she sometimes silently admitted that she preferred people to buffaloes, and the farmer to her own two sisters.
Miss Muffet was more conventional. She had neither the imagination of Cinderella nor the spirit of Red Riding Hood. In fact, the other two called her dull. But she was practical, kind and down-to-earth. Tales of far-away lands did not interest her as much as did cares of her little household. She gave the farmer no trouble, and was her mother's favorite.
Whereas Red Riding Hood was something of a daredevil. She liked breaking the rules to see if she could get away with it, and though she had not as much artistic temper or imagination as Cinderella, she was curious about the outside world. Her greatest dream was to wander in the mysterious cool forests bordering the town. But all the buffaloes were strictly forbidden by the farmer from entering the forests, and they obeyed him, willing or not.
One gloomy winter evening, the farmer sat in the warm cattle shed, smoking his pipe, and listening to the chatter of the three, and the rain in the trees. The young buffaloes, having exhausted their meal and their usual topics, turned to the question of the forbidden forests. Why were they forbidden? asked Cinderella turning to the farmer. Then the three heard of the ancient great tiger that roamed the forests and its ferocious temper and deadly jaws. The forest is a wonderful place, said the farmer, but it is also the home of the malignant tiger. No cattle who had ever set foot in the forests had been seen alive again. From time to time, he said, with a shake of his head, scavenging eagles had carried out bones and bits from the forest, which spoke of the fate of those misguided adventurers. They must never, never, he said, think of entering the forests, not as long as they valued their lives. How horrible, shuddered Cinderella, as the other two stared open mouthed. As they settled down to sleep, the farmer smiled to himself. He knew their time together was soon coming to an end.
As that winter passed, and spring arrived, a new excitement began to stir the village. Strange people were seen all day long, up and down the main street, and there was a carnival air about town. The young buffaloes noted it as they passed the town on their way to the hills to graze, and asked themselves what it could be. When they got home that night, they waited for the farmer to come in for their night feed, and eagerly questioned him. But all he would say was, You'll see very soon.
One day, they finally got their answer. They had not been sent to the hills that day, and after his breakfast, the farmer in his church clothes led all three into the town's main street. There they saw an astonishing sight. Everywhere they looked, from one end of the street all the way to the other, there were horns and hooves and dust and uproar. Cattle of all shapes and sizes filled the place. It was the spring cattle fair.
The three stuck close to the farmer, for fear of getting lost. The farmer led them to a large shed near the dry goods store. Here he sat down to wait for buyers, while he explained what was happening to the awestruck three. It is time, he said, for you three to find homes of your own. You will each be purchased by another farmer, like I once purchased your mother Dreamie, hopefully for a good sum, and he will take you with him to his home in another village, where you will find green grass, fresh water and a good life. You must be good, and do as he says, for he will be your family. Only the best cattle were sold, he said, so it was an honor to get a good buyer.
As they waited about, and munched the dry hay lying around, people came up and made various offers for them, all of which the farmer refused. Miss Muffet worried that he would find no buyers, but it was still noon, and the fair would continue until an hour before sunset. Finally, a wealthy farmer from the neighbouring village purchased Cinderella for a very good sum, and a smaller farmer bought Miss Muffet for a lesser, but still satisfactory amount. While they were congratulating each other, and the farmer was not paying attention, Red Riding Hood had quietly run away.
Red Riding Hood had not said anything since the farmer brought them to the fair, but she had been in a quiet panic. She did not want to go away with a new owner. All she had wanted was to explore the forest, and now it seemed her chance would slip away forever. Her new owner, whoever he might be turn out to be, would never allow her to enter the forest, after paying so much money to purchase her. She would live all her life in another village, and dream of the forest, and die never knowing what was in it. She got more and more agitated, and spotting her chance, she made a break for the forests. It was now or never. If she didn't do it now, she never again would. Off she ran, moving away from the crowds, to the little path that ran by the stream emerging from the forest.
It was a while before she was missed. It had taken the farmer a lot of tough haggling to settle the final prices for the other two, and to celebrate the purchase with the new owners over a glass of village brewed ale. But when her absence was realized, the other two had no time to talk about it. They were led off in different directions by their new owners, and the farmer, having looked everywhere for Red Riding Hood, gave up and went back to his home alone. Cattle often went missing in the fair, sometimes stolen, sometimes lost. She may turn up eventually, he told himself, or she may not. There was nothing he could do.
Miss Muffet's new home turned out to be not too different from her first. The new owner sent her out to graze all day, and treated her fairly. There were other cattle as well. She adjusted to the new routine of calving and milking without too much fuss, as she had seen her mother do the very same things. There was always something to be done, and Miss Muffet never had a chance to reflect or look around her. One day was like the next.
Sometimes she said to herself, I shall go see my sisters one of these days. And the old farmer, before he dies. There must be a lot to talk about. Maybe even see the forest one day. But there was no time now. Maybe when her owner was richer, and she had more time, and the tiger in the forest was dead, then she will go, she thought. Days passed quickly into years, she soon forgot her first owner, the village, the forest and hardly ever remembered her two sisters anymore.
Whereas, things did not go very well for Cinderella. Her owner was wealthier than Miss Muffet's, but also a busy man who had many businesses to run, and was rarely seen around his large cattleshed, except to inspect newborn calves and decide on the fate of the sickly ones. He employed a brace of cowhands, who fed and washed and cleaned and milked. But Cinderella missed her old farmer's company. No one talked to her anymore, and when she tried to ask questions, the people simply ignored her or threw her some hay. They did not understand her talk, and Cinderella couldn't understand why. The other buffaloes thought her strange for trying to talk to people and ignored her. They were only interested in hay and grass and calves.
Cinderella sulked in a corner, hoping someone would notice. She waited for a long time. No one noticed. The next day, she refused to eat, and kicked over her meal bucket. She grew hungry, but no reaction came from the cowhands or the cattle. She starved all day long. Her stomach burned and head spun, and she tried not to think of it. She ate nothing for three whole days but no one said anything. On the fourth day, in agony from hunger, she ate her entire meal in one gulp and gave up her fasting. She continued to be ignored.
One day, out of misery, she ate some funny grass so she could throw up her food. That should give them something to think about, she thought. Her farmer had always been extra considerate whenever one of the three sisters were ill, sitting up all night, talking to them gently. But all she got was some foul-tasting medicine in her food the next day. Still no one came to talk, no one cared. Cinderella grew more and more wretched and lonely. She lost her appetite. She lost weight, and cried herself to sleep every night.
And then one night, after many weeks, the owner appeared in the shed. He was looking at a couple of newborns. Cinderella decided to be bold and ask him why she was treated so badly. But he ignored her as always, and shouted at the cowhands to tie her up. As she was being pulled back roughly to her stall, the rope burned her neck, and desperation overcame her. She pulled away from the cowhand, and once free, headed for her old home. She ran all the way, weeping, not stopping to drink or eat, and by early dawn, she reached her old cowshed.
The farmer, hearing her hoofs, came out to see. He stared, shocked. Her eyes were dull, her skin hung loose, and she had lost a shoe on the way. Cinderella sobbed out her miseries to him. Why were they so bad to her? What had she done wrong?
The farmer smiled with sadness. He stood silent for a long long time before he spoke. Poor Cinderella, he said. You are different. You can think and feel and imagine, but you are not human. You are and will always be a buffalo. You cannot talk to people, people will not understand you. You must live as God intended all buffaloes shall live. You must go back to your new owner. I cannot help you. You can stay with me today, but tomorrow you must go.
Cinderella listened to his words with terrible anger and confusion. To the farmer, she wailed: Why did you speak to me, and tell me all those stories of the wonderful world, if I am just a buffalo? Why did you let me dream and think and imagine ? The farmer was silent. He knew he had no answer.
Meanwhile, Red Riding Hood, running away, had entered the forest with as much excitement as fear. She found the forest to be immense and grand and wild. There were strange things there, trees and birds and insects she had never seen before, waterfalls and caves. Lush grass grew under trees, the water was sweet, and there was no sign anywhere of the tiger. I knew it, she rejoiced, there is no tiger. It was all just a fairy tale to keep everyone away from this wonderful forest. She wandered through it, trying different paths, exploring new areas. Once or twice, she wandered close to the forest edge, and was tempted to return to the farmer's shed, but the thought of leaving this amazing forest was too hard. She wished her sisters could see her now, eating whatever she liked, sleeping wherever she liked, with no one to tell her otherwise. But if she went back to talk to them, she could never return to the forest. Here there was no one to talk to, but she soon missed no one.
Thus she wandered and explored for a long time. Many years went by, and one day, she lay down for a nap after a good meal. She slept for many hours. Waking up from deep sleep, she sensed a silence in the forest around her. And then, straight ahead, looking at her evilly, she saw an immense tiger, ready to spring. She stirred, and the tiger pounced. As it came down on her neck, she thought, I thought the tiger was a fairy tale, but it is real. It doesn't matter now. Though the ending is abrupt and violent, I cannot complain, it has been a good life. The forest, once a dream and now her reality, was fading away from consciousness. Life is a dream, she thought one last time, before it all slipped away.
One evening, the farmer went into the forest edge to collect firewood, and came across Red Riding Hood's cowbell, lying in the grass. So that's where she went, he smiled. He looked around for her remains, but found none. He came home, hung the cowbell from the roof, and stretched out on his bed. He thought of the three sisters. He said aloud, to himself: "One lived waiting to die, one died waiting to live. Only one lived until she died, and no one can ask for more than that."
The cowbell tinkled in the slight breeze. In the shed, he could hear his three brand new calves. I wonder what I shall name them, he thought. And he slept.
( This was for Women's Day - Apu)
