A collection of travel and writings
In past life I was a bull, tilling the very same farm where I stand perched today. The farmer got me castrated when I was young by putting extreme pressure on the veins that connect the balls to the body and thus putting an end to flow of sex hormones. That made me carry on with the work without any distractions. What use is a bull in heat for the farmer, they had justified. Every year they had Pola, a festival to worship slave bulls like me. We were decorated in colourful ways, our humps massaged and horns painted. Hundreds of us were made to stand in rows and forced to run at a signal, all for a leaf which they believed brings prosperity. Delicious food was served for a day. All that is history now. Even in death, they tie me to this stick, not knowing that spirits soar higher. #Betul, Madhya Pradesh #farming #tribals #tradition, #farmanimals A photo posted by manu moudgil (@manumudgil) on Sep 5, 2015 at 12:46am PDT