Years ago a funny, unintelligent man named Joseph Francis Tribbiani, also known as, Joey Tribbiani (F.R.I.E.N.D.S), raised questions on our intelligence. He equated our voice with being useless, unworthy and unimportant.
That was years ago, back then the plight of my community and fellow species was miserable. No one in the world cared for us. Even though we were looked at with bright eyes, shimmering with desire and tongues hardly being contained in, our sole purpose in life was, in fact, nothing but to serve as eye candy. Our job was merely to satisfy the needs and wants of hungry, greedy and insatiable individuals, who thought less of us as curvy, beautiful beings with a heart and more as commodities to be devoured and ingurgitated.
In my community, we don’t give much importance to reading and writing. We are, however, very hardworking. We earn our daily bread by indulging in physical labor. We work for hours together in our respective fields, trying our best to do our best, putting our best foot forward and acting as per the needs of our masters, who then in turn give us remuneration in the form of food and a place to live. We believe in community living.
This is, in fact, how we procreate. This is how my grandmother met my grandfather, this is where my mother met my father and this where my cousins went on dates. Our family and community history is passed from one generation to another through the practice of word of mouth, commonly known as the Moo-Point.
This brings me back to where I started, The Moo Point.
Joey Tribbiani said that it doesn’t matter what we say, because no matter what, it is all just a Moo point. Well, back then my sisters and brothers couldn’t stand up for themselves. They couldn’t defend themselves from a famous Italian -American actor, who was a series regular of his time. But I still remember the very words that my grandmother said to me, right before she was being taken away to be soon delivered into somebody’s refrigerator,
“my dear Calf-Moo (Jr.), a time will come when a great individual will be born, in a land far away. This individual will fight for our honor and respect. He will avenge us from all those who look down on us, who consider us weak, and who stare at our bodies with eyes full of hunger. There will be blood and slaughter.
But, this time it will be of the enemy. And this will just be the start of a revolution. A revolution that will soon take the world by storm. There will be movements and rallies in our honor, there will be discussions and forums set up for us, there will be features on us in newspapers and news channels. We will be the talk of the town. We will be avenged, my child, we will be avenged my Calf-Moo (Jr.).”
Years later, in a mystical land far away, covered with beaches, deserts and mountains, known for its varied culture, languages and cuisines, the newspaper read,
Indian Muslim, Accused of Stealing a Cow, Is Beaten to Death by a Hindu Mob.
Crafted with brevity for select stories to make certain you see what others don't; sent every Friday
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