Life and times of Lord Vincent

By: Victor Karunairajan

Lord Vincent of Sithankerny
From the day he was bottle-fed,
Till his final mortal moments
Lived a long and healthy life.

Such a life span, indeed rare
For Vincent and his kind.
Being male of the species,
The human carnivores
Fancy their mutton
For their choicest occasions.

In the years gone by
In the north and east
They’d be hand reared
Just to be slaughtered
At the temple festival
Held year after year.

On such ghastly gory days
Hundreds would perish
Just for the sheer belief
Gods demand their blood

But in Sithankerny village
In the Valigamam West
Of Northern Sri Lanka
Vincent was never at risk.

Neither the temple knife
Nor that of the butcher
Not even of anyone’s
E’er posed him a threat.

Born in a home farm
To an aging ruminant
He needed special care
Cuddles and caresses.

With mum’s milk inadequate
Human hands nursed him
As one in the farm’s family
With tender loving care.

He was loved so much
By family, friends and visitors
He responded with frolics
And lots of fuss and butts.

Whenever he pleased
He had the habit
To bleat invitation
To play with him
With clear indications
That he loved company

In the darkest of nights
If he sensed movements
He would bleat gently
Like a modern day alarm
And wake up Wagichow,
The canine courageous.

If on the other hand
If one of us whistled
Just for checking
In a prompt response
He’d indicate
All is well, he is well.

However at nights
Tua-tua on his rounds
Will spend some time
In Vincent’s homely hut
Giving a needed break
To his guard companion.

Vincent had his harem
And that was the village
He sired dozens of kids
In that very neighbourhood

He certainly was indeed
The village’s favourite
For every one loved him
And he knew that too.

His chief Guardian Angel
Was our devoted mum
It appeared as if real
She knew his dialect too.

When food is prepared
For human consumption
Vincent had his share
Dawn, noon and dusk.

He loved crumbs and tidbits
Scraps, morsels and all
But only from the hands
Of his human friends.

When the sun goes down
He retires to his hut
Safely ensconced
Rests the night in peace

His welcome dawn bleats
Greet neighbours and family
Says he, it’s time for him
To walk the homestead yard

A creature he was of habits
He knew his daily rounds
Finally he gets tethered
Near the kitchen backdoor
To the guava tree he loved
For his early morning treats.

One incredible night
He baby-sat little Shama
Who was missing her mama
Until the dawning hour.

Vincent adored ice cream
Also snacks, the family loved
Cake, vadai and bananas
Even spicy rice and curry.

When my kids left Sri Lanka
Parting Vincent was tough
He was such a lovely pet
Who gave them so much joy.

But he was in great hands
With mum and cousins around
All his needs well provided
And forever fondly treated

There was of course a time
His life was at great risk
With the prowl of Tigers
And armed men of state
Homing only on victuals
Searching sumptuous foods

Mum made doubly sure
That he was kept safe
In his well-built little hut
In our backyard garden.

One very, very sad day
Old age having caught up
Vincent stretched his legs
And made his final bleat

It was his Good Bye
To a household and folks
Who loved him so much
As one prized and precious

His mortal remains all intact
Were interred lovingly
By his human family
Under the mango tree
That gave him shade
During his mortal life.

END