Gomia Mini Dairy

Praveen Dev
Jul 20, 2017 · 5 min read

Gomia Mini Dairy, you may say, was the equivalent of The Mother Dairy. Established, I think in the year 1973 it was the brainchild of Linnet. She left behind many such brainchildren. Let us also say that the inspiration for its inception was the unavailability of Lactogen milk powder in that back of beyond sleepy hamlet called Gomia and the poor quality of locally watered down milk while our children were still very small. Yet the credit for the idea and its implementation should go to the three very energetic ladies Linnet, Bhagi and Anjali. The menfolk Viney Mushran, Gangadharan and Vidoo Barve set out to buy and bring back three cows, the majestic white Haryanvi called Saraswati, a beautiful brown jersey cow who was christened Laxmi and the dappled black and white gentle Sahiwal named Meenakshi. These were the three stalwarts of the dairy. They were housed in a little shed near the pond which also happened to be quite close to my house in Gomia. The scrap pipes were brought by Dileep in order to erect that dear old cowshed. Chhotan was hired to look after the cows. “Looking after” meant milking them, bathing, brushing, feeding them, seeing to the new ones as they arrived, keeping them and their shed and surroundings clean. As their numbers grew Ramrattan was employed to help at milking times and assist Chhotan who remained all in all in charge. To oversee the “management” we formed a small executive committee which was shuffled every month so that the burden was equally shared among the 12 or 15 members. The manager of the month set a duty rota for each lady member who had to be present during milking times both morning and evening. We were there taking turns to ensure that Chhotan was doing his job well. The cows’ feed must be measured out and given as per their requirement, the milkmen must wash their hands with soap and water and then again with a solution of potassium per manganate, the cows’ udders must be washed thoroughly before milking commenced, the pails must be clean, and…oh! the hygiene was rigorously followed. A register was maintained by these officers on duty where the milk output was scrupulously recorded and this register was handed over morning and evening to the dairy manager of the month. The milk would then be measured and distributed into each member’s can as per their specified requirement. These aluminium cans carried their owners’ initials marked with red paint or nail polish (it had to be red, though — an unwritten rule). Apart from this the Secretary of the month had to make sure that the cows were given a periodic health check, vaccinations etc. Hygiene and health were of primary importance and the milk! mmm…the taste lingers in my mouth still. Our children were lucky to have been fed the best milk in the world. We had thick cream everyday, wholesome butter and ghee, in such abundance that we were forced to bake cakes and cookies once a week at least. Not to mention the delicious kheer, rabri, kulfi and other milk based sweets. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted ice cream as good as the one made in the bucket and churned by hand. That was the dessert served at every general body meeting we had periodically. The work was evenly shared and the whole thing was so much fun it never seemed like work.

A kutti chopper was later erected and a sprinkler system at the doorway for the cows to have a shower. This reduced Chhotan’s labour somewhat. I recall that we also put up a couple of silos to store the hay. Once we had the threat of foot and mouth disease. After that a shallow bath was put up at the entrance. All the cows had to perforce wash their feet before entering the milking area.

A few instances connected with the dairy stand out in my mind.

I was Manager for that month. It was a cold, wintry night and everything was ever so peaceful as we as we slept the sleep of the innocent. A sudden loud banging at the door jerked us awake. As I opened the door I saw Anjali and Linnet waving excitedly. One of the cows, Kalindi, was in labour. We rushed to the cowshed, my two childen in tow. My daughter Vasu must have been about 5 years old and son, Vishal about two. He was frightened when he saw the cow in obvious discomfort, turning around and bellowing in pain. But soon we saw two little hoofs emerging and it wasn’t long before a little baby dropped out. It slipped a bit as it tried to find its feet but quickly found its mother and drank hungrily while she licked her baby clean. I don’t think there could be better education for children than to see nature at such close quarters. It was a sight I shall never forget and I can see it as clearly now as if it had happened today. The cow must be fed, so we went back home and made a thick warm gruel of chana dal and gur for her. It had been a most rewarding night.

The second instance was something we could never have foreseen. Everyday after milking was done and the milk measured out, the cans would be left in my verandah on the parapet from where people would come and collect their respective cans at their own convenience. Usually all the cans would be safely out of the way by 8:30 or so in the morning. This routine was comfortably carrying on and we never gave it much thought till one fine morning at about 6:40 or so. I was busy with my morning household tasks. Vishal was outside playing in the veandah. Our neighbour’s daughter, Preetha was in her verandah, both of them innocent two year olds. I heard him say “gira doon?” (shall I throw it?) and she responded with a yes. And before we could understand what was happening all the cans came crashing down one after the other. Sorry, people, you had to do without milk that day.

Preetha as a toddler once wandered into the dairy and had herself butted by Saraswati who picked her up in her horns and almost threw her down. She was saved by the ever vigilant Chhotan.

Milly had a close encounter with the bull at the dairy gate. In her own words, “I remember the day I went with the gruel that was made at home for a cow that had just delivered. Unfortunately I met the bull at the gate and he figured that the gruel was meant for him. I was not going to argue or discuss the matter with him! I just left the bucket there and ran. Made a fresh batch and went back later. Once when we were getting less milk than usual I suggested that perks such as the bull should be rationed!”

The dairy grew in strength as we bought more cows from Namkum Dairy Farm near Ranchi and later also bred some of our own. By the end of the 1990s there were close to 80 cows which fed a large part of the community. More than that we still feel a close bond with and love for those gracious animals, which also bound us together and made us feel like one large happy family.

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Praveen Dev

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A homemaker passionate about reading writing sketching gardening traveling Experience gathered over the years must spill out of the mind and roll down on paper.