The Language of the Heart: Whistles, Jaggery, and an Unbreakable Bond

 

The Language of the Heart: Whistles, Jaggery, and an Unbreakable Bond

When the phone rang early Monday morning, the frantic, joyful voices of my two boys from Surat came rushing through the speaker. The two goats had arrived safely. The relief was a physical wave washing over me, but for the boys, the adventure was just beginning. Almost immediately, the barrage of questions started: "Bubbeessh, what do we feed them? Can we give them some rotis? Should we give them bread?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, a warm smile spreading across my face. "No rotis, and absolutely no bread!" I laughed, teasing them gently over the phone. "Remember, animals don't eat junk food like you two do! Keep your biscuits and human treats to yourselves."

Behind the laughter, though, my mind flipped to the care and responsibility these gentle souls needed after such an exhausting journey. I softy guided them through the steps of nursing an animal back to comfort. "Listen to me carefully," I advised. "They have traveled a long way and their stomachs are sensitive right now. Let them destress and relax first. Don't give them food immediately. Wait for an hour or two, and then just give them water—but mix a little bit of jaggery (gud) into it. It will soothe them and give them their energy back."

I explained to them the importance of a light, clean diet for the first day. "Only give them fresh leaves from trees or green grass—the hari patti packets you get at the local cattle feed shops. Later on, once they are settled, you can introduce a bit of husk, bhusa, or a handful of grains. But don't overfeed them like we overfeed humans! Stick to a disciplined schedule—just breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The rest of the time, let them rest, sleep, and ruminate in peace."

As I was giving these instructions, the boys switched the call to video to proudly show me their new companions. And that’s when something entirely magical, something that defies explanation, happened.

On the screen appeared the beautiful white-and-pink Gulabi Sojat-Patira cross. My heart gave a little thud. This was the animal we had raised with so much care and love for almost a year at my homestead farm in Kalyan. I looked at his familiar face through the digital screen, and purely out of habit and instinct, I let out a soft whistle—the exact same whistle I used to greet him with every single morning at the farm.

The moment the sound traveled through the phone's speaker, the goat froze. His ears perked up. He turned his head and stared intensely, directly into the camera of the phone, looking straight at me. He recognized my voice. He recognized me.

Distance, mobile screens, and state borders completely vanished in that one second of pure recognition. I felt a sudden lump form in my throat, and my eyes grew mushy. To realize that an animal you fed, protected, and spent time with holds your memory so deeply within its heart... it is a profoundly humbling feeling.

The true emotional storm, however, hit me later that night. The kids called me back, their voices filled with absolute wonder.

"Bubbeessh, you won't believe it," they said. "Since yesterday, when he arrived, he was completely silent, quiet, and kept to himself. But ever since you whistled and spoke to him on the video call this afternoon, he won't stop! He is continuously shouting and yelling on the ground floor where he's tied up with the other animals. It's like he's calling out for you."

Hearing those words, sitting alone in Kalyan while he was miles away in Surat, my heart completely melted. My eyes grew moist. I sat in the quiet of the night, overwhelmed by the fond memories of our days together at the farm—the quiet mornings, the feeding routines, the gentle nudges.

It made me realize how pure, how unpolluted animal love truly is. They don't forget kindness. They don't forget the hand that fed them or the voice that comforted them. Sometimes, looking at the world around us, at the chaos and the friction of human society, I am struck by a deep, undeniable truth...

Sometimes, animals are far more human than us.