It was Saturday, and time for Arjun and his grandpa to jaunt through the supermarket. Arjun’s mother had given up on ever taking her son to these large self-service stores on account of the boy’s brio, which would take him from shelf to shelf and aisle to aisle, reducing the vast layout into a maze for her distraught self as she looked for him. Grandpa, though, always had a new tale – many a time conjured out the AC-breathed cool air – to take Arjun, the second-grader, by the hand; that, and the promise to saunter through every aisle, thus also accounting for his own walk for the day.
With grandpa pushing the cart and Arjun gambolling about him, the duo reached the frozen foods section. Arjun, whenever in the supermarket, never failed to check the piles on each shelf and the stock of every refrigerated container. Casting his eye about, tapping his fingers on the sliding glass lid of a freezer, he gazed into the assortment of frozen meat.
“Arjun, get away from the meat,” grandpa urged, just as he had on three previous visits.
“Why?” asked Arjun, completing his own hat trick.
Grandpa who had limited his earlier responses to “we are never buying meat,” sighed and decided to offer an explanation that might nix the course of events once and for all.
“Do you know how they get the meat?”
“No. Do they make it like bread, chocolates and cake? Or, maybe, they come from trees, like the guavas you pluck for me in our gardens.”
“You wish, son.”
“Then, where does meat come from?”
“Hens and lambs and fishes, have you heard of them?”
“Yes! Along with the lions, jackals and donkeys, they too are in my Animal colouring and story books.”
“Meat is got by killing animals, son, causing them great pain.”
“Is that so? How bad is the pain?”
“Remember when I was in the hospital last winter for surgery?”
“Yes, when you had much more pain in your knees than what I had from scraping mine.”
“Animals experience a bigger, worse pain, and it also hurts their family, like when you were in tears on seeing me in the hospital.”
“Oh!”
“You remember Lord Narayana’s command which is against fighting with anyone?”
“Yes. Never hurt anyone, for if you do, Lord Narayana will cut your nose off.”
“It applies to animals too, lad. You should not hurt animals either.”
“Yeah, dad told me that when I threw stones at a stray dog.”
“Did he, now?”
“Also, Grandma’s told me we shouldn’t hurt insects as well. She caught me stamping on the ants one day.”
“Right again.”
“Grandpa, the people who make meat and the people who buy it, don’t they know that they are sinning and Lord Narayana is coming for their noses?”
“They know. Yet, they do it.”
“Then soon, they will have no noses?”
They had walked a few meters away from the meat freezer by now, but a sliding of the glass lid alerted Arjun, and he darted back.
“Don’t buy it. Save your nose,” he screamed at the baffled woman who was extracting a wrapped chicken breast.
Luckily, before he could continue his discourse, grandpa was there. He put an arm round Arjun, and with the shake of his head, looked at the woman,
With grandpa pushing the cart and Arjun gambolling about him, the duo reached the frozen foods section. Arjun, whenever in the supermarket, never failed to check the piles on each shelf and the stock of every refrigerated container. Casting his eye about, tapping his fingers on the sliding glass lid of a freezer, he gazed into the assortment of frozen meat.
“Arjun, get away from the meat,” grandpa urged, just as he had on three previous visits.
“Why?” asked Arjun, completing his own hat trick.
Grandpa who had limited his earlier responses to “we are never buying meat,” sighed and decided to offer an explanation that might nix the course of events once and for all.
“Do you know how they get the meat?”
“No. Do they make it like bread, chocolates and cake? Or, maybe, they come from trees, like the guavas you pluck for me in our gardens.”
“You wish, son.”
“Then, where does meat come from?”
“Hens and lambs and fishes, have you heard of them?”
“Yes! Along with the lions, jackals and donkeys, they too are in my Animal colouring and story books.”
“Meat is got by killing animals, son, causing them great pain.”
“Is that so? How bad is the pain?”
“Remember when I was in the hospital last winter for surgery?”
“Yes, when you had much more pain in your knees than what I had from scraping mine.”
“Animals experience a bigger, worse pain, and it also hurts their family, like when you were in tears on seeing me in the hospital.”
“Oh!”
“You remember Lord Narayana’s command which is against fighting with anyone?”
“Yes. Never hurt anyone, for if you do, Lord Narayana will cut your nose off.”
“It applies to animals too, lad. You should not hurt animals either.”
“Yeah, dad told me that when I threw stones at a stray dog.”
“Did he, now?”
“Also, Grandma’s told me we shouldn’t hurt insects as well. She caught me stamping on the ants one day.”
“Right again.”
“Grandpa, the people who make meat and the people who buy it, don’t they know that they are sinning and Lord Narayana is coming for their noses?”
“They know. Yet, they do it.”
“Then soon, they will have no noses?”
They had walked a few meters away from the meat freezer by now, but a sliding of the glass lid alerted Arjun, and he darted back.
“Don’t buy it. Save your nose,” he screamed at the baffled woman who was extracting a wrapped chicken breast.
Luckily, before he could continue his discourse, grandpa was there. He put an arm round Arjun, and with the shake of his head, looked at the woman,
“Kids!” is all he could splutter. The woman smiled and was on her way, having pinched the cherubic Arjun’s right cheek.
Eventually, once grandpa had explained to Arjun that Lord Narayana himself would teach meat eaters a lesson, they moved to the next aisle, and Arjun, again, ran his eyes over the different items on display.
“Arjun, let’s grab a refill for the mosquito repellent.”
“Why are we buying this, grandpa?”
“You know mosquitoes make all those red spots on your hand you showed me this morning.”
“But, what will the refill do? Am I to apply it on those spots?”
“No, lad, it’ll kill the mosquitoes so that they can’t harm you anymore.”
“Grandpa, my Insects book has mosquitoes in it.”
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