Sunday, 6 July 2025

Holy Cow & Other Bullshit (Alternate Version)

Cows are sacred.

Cows are our mother.

So chants every Hindu nationalist

before exporting her, slaughtered—

with paperwork dipped in Ganga jal,

smuggled in sanctity.


The same country

that lights diyas to bovine maternity

sells her flesh by the ton—

as long as it’s not their hands

soaked in the blood.


Ah yes, vegetarianism —

our divine diet.

Because gods only sipped air

and nibbled on moonlight, right?


Except the myths say otherwise:

meat roasting in yagnas,

wine flooding like sacred rivers.

Our gods feasted like emperors.

But you?

You pretend they fasted on silence and virtue.


If Hindus were never meat-eaters,

why do ancient texts carve out a different truth?

Why does the Rig Veda sing

of Indra’s indulgence in cow meat?

Why did vegetarianism bloom

only after the rise of Jainism and Buddhism?

Did we import ahimsa from other faiths

while exporting our so-called mothers

to foreign lands for butchery?


Why is it

that the noisiest priests of purity

have never touched the scriptures they defend—

not the Geeta,

not the Vedas,

not the Upanishads?

Why is their religion

secondhand—

inherited from hearsay,

parroted from men who’ve never proven

a single page they preach?


We peddle our mothers for profit

and teach our children to bow to them.

We glorify celibacy

and export Kamasutra like soft porn for the West,

shaming the very desires

our ancestors canonized.


We sell flesh in crates

and call it vision.

We murder in silence

and call it sanskaar.


You don’t eat beef —

you just outsource the sin.

You don’t sacrifice —

you subcontract it.

You don’t kill —

you erase the corpse with slogans.


This isn’t mere hypocrisy.

This is holy hypocrisy —

wrapped in saffron,

perfumed in denial,

wreathed in garlands

of mother-worship and moral panic.


But a lie told in a temple

is still a fucking lie.


And maybe —

this was never about religion.


Because religion, at its marrow,

is political.

And a country

where six in ten

beg gods for two meals a day

needs politics

like the blind need a cane—

to walk,

to strike,

to believe they’re not falling.


In a land

where politics is religion,

and religion is politics,

cows are neither mother nor god,

neither sacred nor sovereign.


Cows —

are just capital in a different skin,

currency for the ignorant,

commodity for the devout.



Atheists

are just believers

who’ve seen the true face of faith.


And I?

I’m not even an atheist.


I am an anti-theist —

a cocky bastard

who mocks the very idea of worship.


Because —

worship is for the visually impaired

and I don't even wear glasses.

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