These people can code Python by age 12 but wouldn’t know how to run from a Python if it dropped from a rafter 20 feet away. They would not know how to tell flourine on the periodic table from flouride in their toothpaste
Living in an urban ivory tower has its consequences. City slickers tend to forget the basics rules of the earth. I have personally met kids who have never seen a pig and have referred to it as a goat. Well, they have never encountered a goat either living with home delivery apps and taxi cab apps and would not know the far end of a goat from the rear end but they somehow know the word goat as an animal and the word pig as an insult, not a mammal. This is when civilization collapses into scenarios where people review a bowl of sambhar for their YouTube handle with words borrowed from connoisseurs of French wine as in full bodied and depth – damn the floating vegetables. The crescendo of such stupidity is that city slickers genuinely believe a cow’s husband is a buffalo and that chocolate milk comes from brown cows. This usually comes from metropolitan male or dudette who orders sushi with vinaigrette dip at 2:00 AM and then track their morning with a smartwatch wearing the tightest Adidas threads over their crotch and diapraphm.
These people can code Python by age 12 but wouldn’t know how to run from a Python if it dropped from a rafter 20 feet away. They would not know how to tell flourine on the periodic table from flouride in their toothpaste. They would gladly speak English in an accent picked up from their time in a call centre but would not know that cows and buffaloes are not married, do not cohabit; that brown cows do NOT produce chocolate milk. If a city-raised kid is asked:
“Where does milk come from?” They would proudly reply: “The fridge.” This is what happens when your biology education consists of Peppa Pig reruns along with BabaPapa and ads featuring overly cheerful dairy mascots.
Let’s begin with the classic urban myth: A cow’s husband is a buffalo. The logic goes something like this: Both animals are big. Both give milk. Both stand next to each other in textbooks drawn by someone who has NEVER visited a farm.
One is white, the other is black. Therefore: marriage. By this logic: Pandas and zebras are married. Polar bears are married to crows. And dal chawal is married to biryani. (Okay, that last one might have some truth.) But biology refuses to bow before city logic. A cow’s male counterpart is a bull. A buffalo’s male counterpart is a buffalo bull.
Yet ask an average city uncle in India’s capital, and he’ll tell you with absolute confidence: “Cow and buffalo are husband-wife. I have lived in South Delhi for 48 years, I know everything.” This is the same uncle who thinks “cloud seeding” means sprinkling cement on clouds and who believes you get fever from drinking water after eating mangoes. Well, confidence does not equal correctness but try telling that to an urban uncle with a University degree from Western Uttar Pradesh or Bihar.
These are people who can: Calculate crypto volatility; identify 37 types of craft beer; recognize a Tesla model from 300 meters away but they cannot recognize a bull from a buffalo even if the animal head-butts their Uber. Yes. In the urban imagination, a brown cow is basically a dairy version of a vending machine. White cow → white milk. Brown cow → chocolate milk. Black cow → Oreo milk. Spotted cow → cookies-and-cream milk. Cow with orange patches → mango shake.
Buffalo → cappuccino. Colour coded buttons on a vending machine. In short, Starbucks is a farm.
Under this same logic, green parrots must produce mint chutney. White goats must produce vanilla ice cream. Grey pigeons must produce cement or are brand ambassadors of UltraTech or ACC. Pink flamingoes must produce strawberry milkshake. PG Wodehouse must be readying for revival. Every street dog is male. (Because who has time to check?) Well, it is a miracle that the world still functions.
City Slickers on a Real Farm would equal a disaster movie. Let us imagine taking a group of urban millennials to a real farm. Scene: A cow and a buffalo grazing peacefully. Urban guy whispers: “Look! Husband and wife!” Farmer:
“Eh! What?” Meanwhile, an urban girl points at a brown cow: “Is that a chocolate milk cow?” Farmer: “No, that’s a Jersey cow.” The entire group looks betrayed, like someone just told them Santa isn’t real and influencers don’t actually meditate every morning. A whole generation grows up thinking the cow and buffalo have children called. I don’t know… cowffalo? Buffow? And that somewhere in the mountains, purebred brown cows are manufacturing chocolate milk directly into premium tetra packs. City slickers treat the cow and the buffalo like a mismatched husband–wife duo from a 90s Ekta Kapoor serial: Cow: Fair, slim, delicate. Buffalo: Dark, muscular, brooding. Indian cinema has shown cows and buffaloes standing next to each other in fields for decades. Naturally, city viewers assume, “If they’re next to each other, they must be married.” Same logic by which people assume actors who appear in interviews together must be dating. So, the child grows up thinking the cow and buffalo are a happy nuclear family on the farm, raising calves and possibly filing joint ITRs.
Urban assumptions about animals are a comedy show by themselves: All goats are automatically female. All pigeons are male (because they look like they harass everyone). Bulls are “rare mythical creatures”. Hens and chickens are the same thing. Roosters are just hens “in a bad mood.” Buffaloes marry cows. Dogs understand English but choose to ignore it. Cats understand English but judge it. These are the zoological theories of the modern metropolis where one sees brown cows walking around with cocoa-bean necklaces with white cows looking down on them because they think chocolate milk is “too sweet.” Farmers checking cows for flavour profiles: “This one tastes like Bournvita. This one more like Boost…
Aha! This one is Cadbury Dairy Milk!” A spotted cow accidentally producing milk that tastes like Mocha Frappuccino. Buffaloes sulking in the background because they’re only producing “extra creamy latte milk.”
If this world existed, Willy Wonka would quit chocolate and enter the dairy business. This is what happens when you grow up in a city that has more malls than farms.
What about the nationalist angle? “Beta, where does milk come from?” The kid will beam and reply: “Amul!”
