Only those who own a buffalo will get unadulterated milk, the saying goes. The Walled City of Lahore, by virtue of its curvilinear narrow lanes, had very few people who would keep a buffalo in their small, cramped houses. In newer localities, though, many affluent families would tie the animal to a peg next to a manger. Besides, the cattle were kept for (limited) commercial dairy farming.

Early in the morning and at sunset, people holding small containers would line up to buy milk. The milkman would let the calf suckle some milk before he milked the animal. When, at times, the buffalo would not deliver milk, no unethical tactics were resorted to nor was the animal given an injection to force the milk out. The caregiver would tie the hind legs of the animal with a rope, wash the udders with water in a bucket, and immediately start milking before anyone could notice the adulteration. All milk thus collected was poured into a large container and dished out to the regular customers. Everyone would proudly proceed to their homes with the milk covered with a thick layer of foam in the containers.

Many offered home delivery services. As the delivery man knocked at your door, old grandma would complain about the adulterated milk while the man vowed that he never mixed any water in the milk. He was right, because he had only poured milk in the bucket that contained water used for washing the teats.

There were numerous shops or stalls selling fodder for the milch cattle. Wheat husk too was available, and so were mustard and cotton leftovers. Those who had their own buffaloes enjoyed a privileged status. Normally, a separate room was allocated for the fodder and other ingredients such as the seasonal crops like shatala, unripened green wheat or corn cobs. Children would pluck milky corn cobs and eat with relish or let their family share it.

Many shops sold these feeds. A toka, electric or manual, was used to cut the long green fodder into small, chewable shreds. Dried left over loafs and bran from the wheat flour were also added to the feed. This, some thought, helped you get better milk.

The buffalo was bathed daily, and mustard oil was used to make its horns glow. Satiated, it would sit down next to its manger and chew the cud in its leisure, the bell hung from its neck keeping time.

Typically, it also had an old shoe hung from its collar to ward off the evil eye. Around 10 in the morning, the herder would come leading the whole lot and quickly untie the waiting animal that would join the gang running the familiar route. On the way, many animals and their calves would slip over the dung; so would the many a cyclist. The whole lot would descend into the Pathi Ground which was originally Akbar’s elephant pen. The large pond on one side of it would indicate that it was a water tank for the royal elephants. There, under an ancient tall tree, the buffalos would be treated to over-ripe turnips and other discarded vegetables. The animals would descend into the water to enjoy the dip while the herdsman would stand by and keep watch over them, next to the bamboo stick that was also his protection against any husbandry bulls.

A byproduct of dairy farming was making of cow-dung cakes. It was the prerogative of the Gujjar womenfolk. They would collect all the dung, shape it into circular discs, and place them on the ground to let them dry. The next day, they would balance them in pairs, inclined against each other, to get more sun. Though this dung is excellent manure, in those pre-Sui-gas days, it was used for cooking. It contained bio-gas that burnt slowly.

The following day, they would sell the cakes to various houses. Income from this sale belonged to the women. It was ultimately spent in bribing the police and fighting court cases because their men were always fighting various gangs.

Towards the late afternoon, the herder would signal the cattle to come out of the pond. After some initial reluctance all the animals would file out. In a rush to reach their homes, they would follow the designated route on which the traffic would be thrown into chaos. The pye-dogs too help their pace barking after them. Afterwards, the canines would seek refuge under some milk shop’s serene platform and the dogs of the other locality would take charge.

Each buffalo knew its house. The herdsman would quickly chain it and run after the rampaging herd with his threatening, long bamboo stick. There was already rich fodder in the manger for the animal to munch before its calf was allowed some gulps of milk. The mother was thus tricked into passing out milk. Its legs were tied and the soiled udders were washed with water from the bucket into which the milk was quickly released before any customer could notice.

Some young sons of the owner liked to suckle the milk directly from the buffalo. This highly nutritious, full-cream milk was very difficult to digest, even more unsuitable for newborns and infants. It has been noticed that the sale of pampers increases manifold among people that feed the adolescents on milk other than the mother’s.

Milk slow-heated over cow-dung cakes mixed with jalaibis was a culinary delight. The extra milk could be turned into yogurt and butter oil. The thin chaati ki lassi was given to the visiting old women. Some single-buffalo farmers were skilled in providing home delivery to the whole locality. But this cultural aspect of Old Lahore has become a thing of the past, as all the land has been devoured by colonies meant to house the unplanned population. Even in bigger farmhouses the housing societies do not allow dairy or kitchen farming.

It used to be said that milkmen and laundry men should be frequently dismissed and new ones employed for failing to deliver quality service. The doctors and the barbers, however, should be retained through generations because they become familiar with the habits of each customer.

In the early 1980s the multinationals, in connivance with some government officials, managed to banish the milch cattle from the city of Lahore. A special colony was established for them in Tajpura but the Gujjars preferred the tomb of Jahangir who was known to separate water from the milk.

The coming of the various ‘colas’ hasn’t diminished the preference for milk products among Lahoris. In the Qila Gujjar Singh bazaar, there are at least 10 milk shops. The hardy milkmen ensure a regular supply from the suburbs, competing with the multi-nationals.

(This dispatch is dedicated to Mullan, the milkman)

The writer is a painter, a founding member of Lahore Conservation Society and Punjab Artists Association, and a former director of NCA Art Gallery. He can be reached at ajazart@brain.net.pk