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I was very excited because it was the first time that I was allowed to go to the markets with the adults. I felt very mature and responsible. Until that day I used to wait at home for them to return with the animal. That was exciting also. You would draw a picture of the animal in your mind and try to match it with the picture. But I wanted to do new things. The market was about two miles from the house. It had rained the night before; therefore, we were expecting to face some very bad conditions at the market. Even before nearing the market I could smell the place. And I could hear the moos of the cattle. Once we entered the market it was a sight to see. The whole ground was covered in knee-deep mud, a gift of the overnight rain, mixed with cow dungs, urines from both man and animal, cow feed, and what not. The mid-summer sun was beating down in full force and I could literally see steams rising from that unholy mixture. Add to that the confusion, the noise, the cows, the people, and you can pretty much imagine what hell would feel like.

It was hard to walk through that knee-deep "mud yougurt" as we lovingly ended up calling the gooey mixture by the time we were finished. You never knew what you might step on next. There were countless cows lined in hundreds of rows. Almost all of them were decorated in some way. They had garlands, made out of paper flowers and of different colors, on their neck. Their backs were covered with brightly colored fabrics, each intricately designed with glass beads. The bigger the cow, the more lavishly it was decorated. Their owners standing tall and proud beside them. Some of them were trying to compete in size and girth with their prized possessions.

After a lot of search we selected a few candidates. The young ones among us preferred the bigger cows. We didn't care about the price. All we cared about was the bragging rights of having the biggest cow in the block. The elders were more concerned about whether it would yield good beef (one way to determine the age is to count the number of teeth), whether it was the right size and color. Ultimate decision rested with my grandfather. But selecting the cows were just the beginning. The hardest part was the haggling. We had to haggle for hours until everyone involved could agree on a price.

Finally we bought a black cow, weighing nearly 500 pounds. To me it looked like the best of the market. We started walking home with our cow in tow. And then started the constant badgering of passers-by asking the price. It is a grand old tradition. You always ask how much the cow had cost whenever you see anyone returning from the market. And you voice your agreement and let them know that they got a very good deal. You might think otherwise, but you never say that. It is also a very good way to gauge the market rate and guess how much you might have to pay. My cousins and I were ever eager to let them how much we had paid. We were having a field day. Once we reached home everyone else came out to join us. They looked the animal over and voiced their opinion.