Ahimsa

Anjali stopped. Inside the cow shed, Nandini was pacing back and forth, knocking her head against the short walls, agitated.
“Help her, Baba,” Anjali pleaded as she watched Nandini slam her head so hard against one of the wooden pillars, the roof shook. They had to make sure Nandini was okay. They had to make sure she didn’t lose another calf.
Baba patted Anjali on the head. “She’ll be fine.”
But Nandini didn’t look fine. Her sides were trembling. Her breath was no longer warm. Her eyes looked like pits of agony as she kicked at her belly, her tail fully extended. Anjali saw her father and Chachaji exchange a look as they whispered between themselves.
Anjali could just make out one of Baba’s sentences. “She’s not progressing.”
“The tail shouldn’t be like that,” Chachaji replied, “Something’s wrong.”
Something was wrong? Just like last time Nandini was pregnant. Anjali felt sick to her stomach. Nandini lay down, then stood up, then almost immediately lay down again, and then abruptly rose to her feet. Her legs wobbled so much she lost her balance, collapsing on the ground once more. Her eyes widened, panicked, and tears streamed down her white cheeks, staining them.
“She needs help,” Chachaji said, his voice trembling.
Anjali thought of all the times Nandini had comforted her, all the times the gentle cow had wept, feeing Anjali’s pain. And before Anjali knew what was happening, she too began to cry.
“Irfaan,” she mumbled through her tears.
“What?” asked her father as he stroked the suffering cow’s hide, looking helpless.
“We need them. They know about cows,” she sobbed, backing away as Nandini wailed.
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” replied her father.
But Anjali just ran.
“Anjali!” shouted Chachaji. “It’s not safe for a little girl to—”
Her sandals pounded the rocky ground below as she raced out the iron gate. She sped around the bend, past families out celebrating Holi, and into an alley. A cockroach scrambled around her toes, but Anjali didn’t even care. She ran and ran, pressure building in her chest, wheezing for breath.
She wove around the few Muslim men sitting by their food stalls, briefly catching their words:
“Why do they have to celebrate so loudly?”
“Come now. Don’t we do the same at Eid?”
Anjali’s stomach tightened at the mention of Eid, at the memory of celebrating holidays with Irfaan, exchanging gifts and eating meals together. Back then, she didn’t mind the Muslim celebration.
She sprinted down a path and came to a stop at Irfaan’s father’s dairy.
“Farhan Uncle!” she screamed.
A group of boisterous men and woman danced nearby, banging their drums. The sound was deafening—Anjali had to be louder.
“Farhan Uncle!” she wailed, so loud her throat stung.
The door to Irfaan’s home opened and Farhan Uncle came running out. “What is it, Anjali? What happened, beta? Why are you crying?”
From the doorframe, Irfaan watched sulkily.
“It’s Nandini,” Anjali got out, gasping for air. “She’s dying.”
Just like that, Irfaan’s face changed.
“Come on, Abbu,” he begged his father, all signs of his venomous hate missing.
“Now!”
_________________________________

“Anjali!” Baba’s voice echoed in the night, despite the rolling drumbeats and hoots from the celebrations that were still going on outside.
“Nandini!” breathed Anjali. She raced to the cow shed, Irfaan right behind her. Farhan Uncle stood by the shed’s entrance with Anjali’s father and Chachaji, his kurta stained even darker with maroon blood.
“Is she….?” Anjali stopped, unable to finish the thought, her legs shaking unsteadily.
“Go in the shed,” replied Anjali’s father. “Both of you.”
Anjali swallowed hard. She exchanged a nervous glance with Irfaan, and the two of them hesitantly entered the little shack. There, glowing in the lantern light, was Nandini, sprawled sideways in the straw, breathing heavily as she weakly licked a tiny tan calf with deerlike eyes and a little wet black nose.
“You’re okay,” whispered Anjali as her gaze left Nandini and fell on the precious calf, whose ears twitched every time Nandini’s chin grazed them.
“They’re both okay,” said Farhan Uncle, peeping inside, “I was able to turn the calf so she could come out.”