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From Slaughterhouse to Sneha’s Care: The Tale of MAYAKUMARI

On August 2, 2023, I was rescued and named as Mayakumari. From my birth till the day I was rescued, I was not given any name. For my whole life, I was treated as a milk producing machine and compelled to give birth every year. I used to give birth and my children would not be allowed to drink my milk properly as it was a medium for my owner to earn money by selling milk. After a few months of their birth, they used to send my children for meat purposes.

This was the life I was living; giving birth and seeing my children sent away for meat. As time passed by and I became older, I could no longer produce milk. My owner realized that I am unproductive for them and they decided to sell me. For all these years, I was used by my owner to earn money and when it was their turn to care for me, they sold me for extra money. I was unaware where I was being transported to. My tail and nose were tightly tied and there were 40-42 buffaloes like me in that congested space where all were tied up and the truck was carrying more than its capacity.

We were being thrown inside like we were some cargo boxes. 25-26 hours of long journey where we could not even rest and no food/water was provided to us. I felt suffocated inside that truck and some of my friends had bokeh horns, bleeding nose and wounds on body. I was in pain due to the rope which was tied up so tightly along my tail. Finally, we reached the slaughterhouse where we were dragged and taken inside the slaughterhouse. People used to call us by saying ”Maal”, which means items or products. There were numbers written in our body. I was number 9. I heard people saying, the products are here, take them inside. It was around 1 pm, and we were inside a dark room. Everyone was being taken outside one by one from that dark room. Finally, it was my turn, I was taken outside and could see my friends lying on the floor. I thought it was the last day of my life.

A sharp, agonizing pain pierced my head as a cruel hammer struck me with brutal force. The world around me blurred, and my vision swirled with darkness. I collapsed to the ground, my body wracked with pain. With every ounce of strength I could muster, I forced myself to stand. I stumbled and staggered, but something drove me forward. I had to escape this place of horror. I broke free from the confines of the slaughterhouse. While running down the streets, my head throbbed with pain, and my vision remained hazy. I was bleeding from my perineal area, but I couldn’t stop. Out of fear and panic, I charged down the streets, inadvertently colliding with anything and anyone in my path. I collided with people, taxi and scooter whoever and whatever was in my way.

People screamed and fled from my path, and news of a rampaging buffalo spread like wildfire. I became content for the news reporters and there were cameras who were filming me. I ran inside the school premise and the gate was locked after I went inside. I was surrounded by people in no time and everyone was looking at me from the roof of their houses, taking my videos and photos. Some were calling me “Momo, Murra and many other names”. Nobody had the intention to save me, they could not understand why and how I was in that place. For one buffalo, there were thousands of people surrounding me. It seemed like I was a terrorist to them. The authorities were called in, and the order was given to shoot me on sight. I was a danger to myself and everyone around me, they claimed. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a guardian angel appeared on the scene. Sneha Shrestha, a compassionate animal rights activist, had heard about my plight on the news. She rushed to the scene, determined to save me from a fate worse than death.Sneha understood that I was not a monster but a terrified and wounded soul in desperate need of help. She pleaded with the authorities to spare my life and allow her to intervene. Her words were passionate and heartfelt, and she managed to convince them to give her a chance. I was provided with tranquilizer shots. I cannot recall how many times they used it to control me and make me unconscious.

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by kind-hearted souls who understood the pain and suffering I endured. I was covered with a blanket and was kept on medication. I may carry the scars of my past, both physical and emotional, but I have found solace and happiness in the company of those who fought for my survival. My journey from the brink of death to a life of peace and sanctuary is an evidence to the resilience of all beings, and the unwavering dedication of individuals like Sneha Shrestha and the team who remind us that

Compassion and love can triumph over cruelty and despair.


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