My friend Borka

I don’t remember how old I was then, probably about seven years old. My mother and I went to the village to see Grandma Vera.

The village was called Varvarovka, then the grandmother was taken away from there by her youngest son, but that village, the area, the plants of the solonchak steppe, the house that my grandfather built from dung, the garden, all this stuck in my memory and always causes a mixture of extraordinary bliss of the soul and nostalgia for that this time can no longer be returned.

In the garden, in the farthest corner, sunflowers grew. Among the sunflowers, a lawn was cleared, a peg driven in the middle. A small calf was tied to a peg. He was very small, he smelled of milk. I named him Borka. When I came to him, he was very happy, because all day wandering around the peg is not very fun. He lowed me affably in such a thick bass voice. I went up to him and stroked his fur. He was so meek, quiet … And the look of his huge brown bottomless eyes covered with long eyelashes seemed to plunge me into a kind of trance, I sat down on my knees side by side and we were silent. I had an extraordinary sense of kinship! I just wanted to sit next to him, to hear the sniffling and occasionally still such a childish, slightly mournful lowing… Borka probably complained to me how sad he was here, how he wanted to see his mother and wanted to run, but the rope wouldn’t let him. A path had already been trodden around the peg … I felt very sorry for him, but of course I could not untie him, he was small and stupid, and of course, he would certainly have climbed somewhere.

I wanted to play, we started running with him, he began to moo loudly. Grandmother came and scolded me because the calf was small and could break a leg.

In general, I ran away, there were so many interesting things … and he remained alone, not understanding where I was going. And piercingly plaintively began to mumble. But I ran to him several times a day … and in the evening my grandmother took him to the shed to his mother. And he mumbled for a long time, apparently telling his mother the cow about everything that he had experienced during the day. And my mother answered him with such a thick, sonorous rolling moo …

It’s already scary to think how many years, and I still remember Borka with bated breath.

And I am glad that no one wanted veal then, and Borka had a happy childhood.

But what happened to him afterwards, I don’t remember. At that time, I didn’t really understand that people, without a twinge of conscience, kill and eat … their friends.

Raise them, give them affectionate names… talk to them! And then the day comes and se la vie. Sorry friend, but you have to give me your meat.

You don’t have a choice.

What is also striking is the completely cynical desire of people to humanize animals in fairy tales and cartoons. So, to humanize, and the richness of imagination is amazing … And we never thought about it! To humanize is not scary, then there is a certain creature, which in our imagination is already almost a person. Well, we wanted to…

Man is a strange creature, he does not just kill, he loves to do it with special cynicism and his demonic ability to draw completely ridiculous conclusions, to explain all his actions.

And it is also strange that, while screaming that he needs animal protein for a healthy existence, he brings his culinary delights to the point of absurdity, conjuring over innumerable recipes in which this unfortunate protein appears in such unthinkable combinations and proportions, and even coupled with fats and wines that only marvel at this hypocrisy. Everything is subject to one passion – epicureanism, and everything is suitable for sacrifice.

But, alas. A person does not understand that he is digging his own grave ahead of time. Rather, he himself becomes a walking grave. And so he lives out the days of his worthless life, in fruitless and futile attempts to find the desired HAPPINESS.

There are 6.5 billion people on Earth. Of these, only 10-12% are vegetarians.

Each person eats about 200-300 gr. MEAT per day, at least. Some more, of course, and some less.

CAN YOU CALCULATE HOW MUCH PER DAY our insatiable humanity needs a kg of meat??? And how many per day it is necessary to make murders??? All the holocausts of the world could look like resorts in comparison with this monstrous and already familiar to us, EVERYDAY, process.

We live on a planet where justified killings are committed, where everything is subordinated to the justification of murder and elevated to a cult. The entire industry and economy is based on murder.

And we wearily shake our fists, blaming bad uncles and aunts – terrorists … We ourselves create this world and its energy, and why then do we exclaim sadly: For what, for what ??? For nothing, just like that. Someone so wanted. And we have no choice. Ce la vie?

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