It was just after noon the next day. Massive crowds had gathered at the lake-side ground, where the contest between man and beast was about to take place. The ground had a small entry on the eastern side, from where bulls would be led in, one by one. They had been trained to make a run for the exit at the western end, a good five hundred metres away. The men, essentially, had that distance to try and grab hold of the bull and pull out the bag of coins. If the contestant won, he would keep the bag of gold coins. More importantly, he would be called a Vrishank; a bull warrior! Of course, if any bull reached the western gate and escaped, without losing its bag, the owner of the bull would be declared winner. Needless to say, he would keep the bag of coins.
There were various breeds of bulls that were used in the Jallikattu competitions. Among the most popular was a type of zebu bulls that were specifically cross-bred for aggression, strength, and speed. They were extremely agile and could turn around completely at the same spot in a split second. More importantly, they also had a very pronounced hump; this was a requirement for any bull competing in the Jallikattu. Some believed that the humps were essentially fat deposits. They couldn’t be more wrong. These humps were an enlargement of the rhomboideus muscle in the shoulder and back. The size of the hump, thus, was a marker of the quality of the bull. And, judging by the size of the humps on these bulls, they were, clearly, fierce competitors.
In keeping with tradition, proud owners were parading the bulls in the ground. This was so that human contestants could inspect the beasts. As tradition also dictated, the owners, one by one, began to brag about the strength and speed of their bulls; their genealogy, the diet they were fed, the training they had received, even the number of people they had gored! The greater the monstrosity of the bull, the louder and lustier the cheers of the crowd. And as the owner stood with his bull, many from the crowd would throw their angvastrams into the ring to signify their intention to compete with that beast.
But they all fell silent as a new bull was led in.
‘By the great Lord Rudra …’ whispered Lakshman, in awe.
Sita held Ram’s hand. ‘Which poor sod is going to grab the coins from that bull’s horns?’
The owner of the bull was aware of the impact of the mere presence of his beast. Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. He didn’t say anything; nothing about its heredity, its awesome food habits, or fearsome training. He simply looked at the crowd, arrogance dripping from every pore of his body. In fact, he didn’t expect any contestant to even try to compete against his bull.
The bull was massive, larger than all the others that had been paraded so far. The owner didn’t clarify, but it seemed like a cross-breed between a wild gaur and the faster sub-breed of the domesticated zebu. Clearly though, the gaur genes had dominated in the making of this beast. It was gigantic, standing over seven feet tall at the shoulders with a length of nearly ten feet. It must have weighed in at one thousand five hundred kilograms. And practically all that one could see rippling under its skin was pure hard muscle. Its two horns were curved upwards, making a hollow cup on the upper part of the head, like a typical gaur bull. Zebu genes had prevailed in the make of the beast’s skin. It was whitish grey and not dark brown like gaur skins usually are. Perhaps the only other place where the zebu genes had won was the hump. Normally, a gaur has an elongated ridge on its back; it’s flat and long. But this bull had a prominent and very large hump on its upper shoulders and back. This was very, very important. For without that hump, this beastly bull would have been disqualified from the Jallikattu.
If a competitor managed to grab hold of the hump of a bull, his main task was to hold on tight, even as the bull bucked aggressively, trying to shake the human off. Through the tussle, the man had to somehow hold on; and if he held on long enough and pulled tight, the bull would finally slow down and the man could grab the bag.
The owner suddenly spoke. Loudly. Disconcertingly, considering the demonic animal he led, the voice of the man was soft and feminine. ‘Some of you may think this bull is all about size. But speed matters as well!’
The owner let go of the rope and whistled softly. The bull charged out in a flash. Its speed blinding. It was faster than any other bull on this day.
Lakshman stared, awestruck. Gaurs are not meant to be this fast!
The bull turned rapidly in its spot, displaying its fearsome agility. As if that wasn’t enough, it suddenly started bucking aggressively, and charging towards the fence. The crowd fell back in terror. Its dominance established, the bull sauntered back to its owner, lowered its head and snorted aggressively at the crowd.
Magnificent!
Loud and spontaneous applause filled the air.
‘Looks like the hump and skin colour are not the only things it inherited from its zebu ancestor,’ whispered Sita.
‘Yes, it has inherited its speed as well,’ said Lakshman. ‘With that massive size and speed … It’s almost like me!’
Sita looked at Lakshman with a smile. It disappeared as she saw the look on her brother-in-law’s face.
‘Don’t …’ whispered Sita.
‘What a beast,’ said Lakshman, admiringly. ‘It will be a worthy competitor.’
Ram placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, holding him back. But before Lakshman could do anything, a loud voice was heard. ‘I will compete with that bull!’
Everyone’s eyes turned towards a violet-coloured, obviously expensive angvastram flying into the ring. Beyond the wooden fence stood a fair, ridiculously muscular and very hairy man of medium height. He wore a simple cream-coloured dhoti with one end of it sticking out like a tail. The clothes may have been simple, but the bearing was regal.
‘That’s Vali,’ said Jatayu. ‘The King of Kishkindha.’
Vali stood close to the barricaded entrance. The gaur-zebu bull was about to be let loose. It was a covered gate and the bull couldn’t see who or what was waiting on the other side. Three bulls had already run. Two had been baited and their gold coins grabbed. But one bull had escaped with its package. It was a rapid game. Individual races rarely lasted more than a minute. There were at least a hundred more bulls to run. But everyone knew that this was the match to watch.
The priest of the local temple bellowed out loud. ‘May the Vrishank above all Vrishanks, Lord Rudra, bless the man and the beast!’
This was the standard announcement before any Jallikattu match in Indrapur. And as usual, it was followed by the loud and reverberating sound of a conch shell.
After a moment’s silence, the loud clanking of metal gates was heard.
‘Jai Shri Rudra!’ roared the crowd.
From the dark interiors of the covered gate, the beast emerged. Usually, bulls charged out, thundering past the press of humans who tried to lunge from the sides and grab the hump of the animal.