Editor’s Note: The following excerpt is taken from Parashar Kulkarni’s Cow and company. Set in colonial India, it’s a hilarious fictional work that tells the story of a British Chewing Gum Company who opens a shop in Bombay with the aim of enticing Indian potato addicts to switch to chewing gum. To prove their point that chewing gum is a superior alternative to paan, they use a cow as their mascot.
The picture of the cow will be on all posters, and of course there are consequences. Religious sentiments have been hurt, and that one decision to use a cow as a brand ambassador leads to catastrophe. The book, a debut by Kulkarni, will give you plenty of belly laughs and introduce you to a beautiful interplay of fantasy and myth. Cow and Company uses satire to take stock of India and its complex relationship with religions, then and now.
Here’s an excerpt from the book:
‘What is the price of our chewing gum, Mr. Pestonjee? Half Anna?’ Thompson twirled his stick.
“Yes, sir, half an anna, like paan,” Pestonjee said.
“Never liked it so much.”
“I don’t like it either, sir, but Banerjee likes it. One every hour. The hallway-‘
‘Those filthy red spots. I knew it was Banerjee… The first time I ate paan, I felt like my lungs were going to explode.’
“You must have swallowed it whole, sir, instead of spitting…”
“We don’t feel like spitting, you see.” Rat-tat-tat-rat-tat-tat… Thompson drummed his stick
against the table.
‘We compete with tea and paan. But chewing gum has many more advantages.’
‘Why is that?’ Thompson asked as he continued to drum – a rhythm had formed.
“Is it a symphony?”
‘If I want to. Here it is difficult for a man to follow his beliefs. What did you say?’
‘One day I was walking home. I stopped at the greengrocer’s. A man, bulging on all sides, was standing next to me reading Bombay Samachar.’
‘What is your point?’
‘Yes sir. So he stood there, reading his newspaper loudly, as if he were the—”
“I don’t have time for this, Pestonjee.”
“I’ll get to the point, sir. He spits carelessly on my new leather chappals. that uncivilized
barbarian! Excuse my language, sir, but he had no manners.’
“It’s either uncivilized or barbaric. It doesn’t help to claim both.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘So?’
“If he spit out gum, it wouldn’t be such a mess.”
“Gums don’t contain tobacco, Pestonjee.”
“Poor men will still chew it.”
“Pray, tell me why?”
‘If they are hungry and want a long lasting taste. . .’
“One can always keep paan in one’s mouth.”
‘But then the red betel juice will drip from the corners of the mouth and stain the clothes. If his clothes
are defiled, his wife will be angry. If his wife is angry, she will beat him. Instead, he can chew gum all day long.
Everybody is happy. Also paan makes you hungry. It’s a digestive after all.’
“It’s a what?”
‘Digestion…digestion…for the stoma…’
‘Children are more prone to chewing gum than adult men. We have a small propaganda fund for this. Work on that. Put a few planks in some schools, ten or twelve in the beginning. Make sure the stores are in stock
the gum before the shelves go up.’
“Sir, we should have made chewing gum instead of mint. Why would anyone waste money on chewing gum when they can steal coin from their parents…’
“It’s not the taste, Pestonjee, it’s the shape.”
“Sir, why not chewing gum with pancake flavor?”
“Do you remember the old label?”
‘Why? Has anyone complained about my memory?’
“Recalled, picked up.”
‘Sorry sir. Yes I did.’
‘Is the new label specific about the content?’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Contains no animal products. Suitable for vegetarians.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Good. I want this message on the poster, not just on the label.’
“Sir, these additions take up too much space. It’s very clear on the label.’
“And the caption?”
“Go Mata Ko Bhata (the chewing gum that the cow mother is fond of).”
“Still sounds strange.”
“Sir, trust me in this. I’ve spent quite a bit of time on the subject. What better way to make the natives love us?
chewing gum than to use a cow? After all, it’s the first chewing gum in the…’
“Tomorrow you’ll put a pig on the label.”
‘No, the Muslims – who said pig?’
Pestonjee noted Thompson. ‘What do you think? No pig,” Thompson wobbled uncomfortably. “What’s that smell?”
“Sir, I have something that will convince you that the cow is the best ambassador for our product.”
‘What?’
“Here in the lobby.”
Thompson stepped out of his room. The white cow with red horns stood in the hall and looked great at him
big moist eyes, chewing.
‘What nonsense is this? Is this a joke, Mr. Pestonjee?’
‘No sir. I have her for you. To show you how she chews the cud just like chewing gum. And prove that she deserves to be on our posters. I’ll open her mouth and show you. Natwarlal! Open her mouth,’ Pestonjee ordered.
“Sir, she might bite.”
“Cows don’t bite.”
“Does she know this?”
“Open her mouth.”
Natwarlal wrapped a cloth around his hands and tried to open the cow’s mouth. The cow stood still. her saliva
trickled down his wrist to his armpits, causing him to wiggle.
“Shoot now,” Pestonjee yelled at the photographer, who had been summoned exclusively for this purpose.
“It’s too dark,” the photographer replied. He preferred still lifes. He was unprepared and unenthusiastic about drama.
‘Naturally! Grab a torch.’
Natwarlal ran to the office area and returned with a flashlight. Pestonjee flashed the torch into the cow’s
mouth that Natwarlal held open with both hands.
“Perfect,” said the photographer.
“I want her mouth wide open,” Pestonjee said. Then, turning to Thompson, ‘Sir, the cow chews all day. All Hindus love cows. If we use her on our posters, they’ll love our gum.” He flashed the torch again.
The cow was nervous at the light and bumped into the cameraman and his equipment.
‘Stop her! My camera!’ the photographer shouted.
“Get her out of here first,” Thompson yelled.
‘Clean up this mess now! I can not breathe. I want this place to be spotless by the end of the day!’
Then he left.
Pestonjee, the officer and Natwarlal pulled the rope around the cow’s neck. She suddenly pulled her neck and…
sent them sprawled on the floor before trudging to the filing room. The outgoing mail of the day was pending. Natwarlal rushed to the shipping desk to collect envelopes and parcels, then to the storage to get his sandals, then to Banerjee to get money for postage and only managed to catch his breath a mile away at the post office, two minutes before closing time.
When Natwarlal returned, it was 4:30, the office was empty, and Pestonjee was leaning against the filing room door. After the accident with the photographer, he ran after the cow and quickly locked the door.
“Is everything all right, sir?” asked Natwarl.
“Come here, idiot!”
‘Oh no, the cow!
‘Open the door.’
Natwarlal opened the door to the stench of cow dung. In the middle of the room the cow sat subdued with her
legs folded. In her mouth was an old brown file.
“What does she eat?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
‘Pull it.’
Natwarlal tore out the half-chewed folder. “The correspondence for May.”
‘From last year. No one will ask for that now. Clean this up and kick her out. I don’t care if she’s a cow.’ Pestonjee walked over to the cow and lifted his leg.
“Get up, you filthy animal!” Schlip – flop – he slid on the puddle of dung and urine and landed on his behind. Natwarlal
covered his mouth. The cow stood up. She looked at Pestonjee on the floor and their eyes closed for two seconds.
She turned, as if embarrassed, then walked past him, through the doorway and down the stairs. Natwarlal followed her with his eyes until she disappeared into the street.
‘Naturally! What are you looking at? Give me a hand.’
‘Look, sir, what an intelligent animal. She knew the way out.’
“There was only one door open, you idiot. Give me a towel.’
‘But Sir. She could have pushed the other doors open.’
‘What do we do now?’ asked Pestonjee.
“Can we go home, sir?”
“About the file!”
‘I have an idea. I could get one or two mice and leave them in the room. We can blame the mice for the file.”
“What if the mice destroy more files?” asked Pestonjee.
“We can put them in a cage and say we caught them. No one will come into the archive room anyway.’
“Banerjee.”
“Sir, tomorrow I’ll tell Banerjee I saw a mouse. Or you say you saw a mouse. It will sound better.’
‘New. You tell him.’
The following excerpt from Parashar Kulkarni’s book Cow And Company is published with permission from Penguin Publishers. The book costs Rs 399 (be bound to)