Here's what ensued, in chronologically arranged pics :
Confused? Flabbergasted? Can't believe your eyes? Ha ha. Allow me to explain:1. Latta poses with Ram #1, a ram.
2. Basheer and Bagh Singh position themselves good-naturedly on wall separating our lawn from neighbours'. They are going to 'receive and deposit' the package, viz. a ram.
3. Latta hoists Ram #1 onto shoulder in one fluid motion and prepares to hand him over to the Wall People.
4. Package (ram) is secured and comforted by Wall-Peeps. "This too shall pass," they say.
In the next unphotographed sequence, Latta jumps over in to the adjoining lawn, and receives Ram #1 in similar fluid motion as while giving. Ram #1 is let loose to eat, sleep and swing as desired unto the end of his days....
Same sequence of events follows for Ram #2, who unfortunately did not receive any footage.
Please note that none of the animals used in this stunt were injured in any way, nor were they photographed without permission. They were embarrassed, yes; they were shown dramatically what the phrase, "There's always a first time" meant; they were thoroughly nonplussed by all the hoisting-gitching.
But were they hurt, injured, put through agony and such? No. We village peeps like animals, you see. Pre- and/or post-humously.
Here's the back story.
We had brought home a couple of rams prior to Eid. They were supposed to graze and live the last few days of their lives happily munching on neighbour's grassy lawn and flowers. Said lawn even had an awning-ed wrought iron garden swing, of the kind seen in romantic Hindi fillum scenes (or at least appearing in b/g in all the rich peeps' houses). Something like this.
So anyway. If the rams were in any doubt they were going to live the high life (before they were eventually brought to their heroic end as juicy kebabs-see end of post), the swing should have settled the matter.[To pre-empt you asking, "Hey! Why should the rams feed off your neighbours' lawn and not yours?!!! WTF?", let me add that our neighbours had long months past quit Jammu and moved to Delhi, entrusting to us their gate and house keys in exchange for a solemn oath of protecting it against intruders, burglars, trespassers and natural disasters. We promised confidently on all points save the last, and they, looking at the thing reasonably, understood.
Gate keys being in our possession, we were eyewitness to the miraculously lush growth of grass and the proliferation of wild flowers in their lawn like a NatGeo documentary on the monsoons. In the absence of hours of daily gardening, Jammu lawns tend to outdo themselves and aim for jungle-like hauteur. Such was the case with this lawn. It was tooooo much. The flora had to be restricted. Enter: fauna, viz. the rams.]
Now. Herein lay the problem. Neighbour's gate keys had gone on a tour of the city in the left front pocket of our houseboy, who wasn't going to be back for a while. The rams had arrived and were anxious to get started. They smelt the berserk grass. They smelt the wildly insane flowers. The saw the huge padlock on the gate. They noticed the high wall separating our property from the neighbours'. They bleated something derisive about the "Good fences make good neighbours" ideology. In short, it was a tragic scene.
Suddenly, the indefatigable practical good sense that lies in all sons of the soil came to the fore in the person of my father, and his right and left hand men, the good lads of Breswana. These were farmer-folk, animal peeps, and more importantly, physically strong lads.
POST-SCRIPT:Had barbecue party a few days later on Eid. Fun. Also, delicious.
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