Translated short fiction: A Konkani Christian cowherd wonders if he should convert to Hinduism

Caetano stepped onto the track that wound up the hill. This stony track led to the Cowherd’s Cross that could be reached in about fifteen minutes if one moved away from the village. The rainy season was almost over, but the clear sky was suddenly filled with dark clouds and it began to rain. The whole area was overgrown with wild grass, and much of the track was hidden by the long blades that had fallen across it. Caetano hacked at the undergrowth with his scythe and carefully cleared the small branches that blocked his path.

In the old days cows would follow this track as they moved up the hill in search of pasture, so the cowherds of the village were quite familiar with this route. Caetano had used this track since the time he was a child and had wandered all over the hill with his herd of cows. But the villagers do not rear cows any longer. There are no cows in Caetano’s cattle shed these days.

He was halfway up the hill when he paused and looked back as the sound of the dhol fell upon his ears. He peered in the direction of the village but it...

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