We all know that in India, most people get their daily milk needs from the milk vendors and the actual owners of small dairy farms. The milk vendors bring milk packets packed by big commercial dairies.  While the small dairy owners with a few animals do the milking manually in mornings and evenings and deliver milk in containers. 

After my marriage, we shifted to Mumbai on a transferable job. My wife was always keen to get pure milk without adulteration and she knew that dairy owners always tried to make an extra buck by adding water to the milk. Besides, one was not sure whether they used pure water.

So over the first few days of our stay at our new location I took recommendations from our neighbours and went searching for a dairy farm nearby. Ultimately, I found one whose owner seemed reasonable in terms of cleanliness and his charges. My wife did not believe in him though and so I walked every morning to the farm and got pure milk right from the container in which the man would milk the  buffalo. It served two purposes – get wholesome milk and complete my morning walk at the same time. I also enjoyed watching the daily morning lives of lower middle class Mumbaikars.

So this routine continued till I had a minor issue with my left leg and was advised to take rest. Then we worked out a deal with the milkman. He would bring the buffalo to our building every morning and give us a shout. As we were staying on the first floor, we would walk to the balcony and watch as the man would milk the buffalo. He would then send the milk upstairs with his boy. This would ensure that we got unadulterated milk at our door-step every day.

The new routine continued for a long time. The man would come with the buffalo, give us a shout and then milk the buffalo while we glanced from our balcony. Days turned to weeks and weeks to months but the routine continued.

One day I went to the balcony as usual when the milkman gave a shout. I don’t know why but on that day I was a bit more attentive as the milkman placed a bucket below the buffalo and started “milking”. My view of the scene was obstructed by the milkman as he continued  his business with his back facing us. I slightly shifted my position and was aghast, shocked and astounded to see that the animal was not a buffalo but a bull!

P S: When scolded the man said the bull had no work to do at the farm and so he brought it on his walk! He just brought the milk from home and acted as  if he was milking a buffalo in front of our building.