MEERUT : As the midnight hour casts shadows across the state highway to Garh Mukteshwar, an ancient tradition pushes modern boundaries, escalating from celebration to confrontation. Bullock cart races , held to celebrate Kartik Purnima , see rival villages from across the region clash in a frenzy of speed and pride. By day, the fairgrounds are teeming with pilgrims; by night, they’re punctuated by drumbeat of hooves and roars of bikes as bullock carts charge through the state highway — illegally, and often fatally.
Despite a police ban, these races surge forward, drawing crowds and disrupting traffic on what would otherwise be a sleepy road. Here, bullocks are forced to race up to 40km at speeds as high as 80kmph, goaded with sharp rods and pointed sticks that inflict pain to propel them to peak pace. The stakes are high: organisers set cash prizes up to Rs 2.5 lakh, fuelling fierce rivalries. For some, it’s about preserving village pride; for others, the prize money is worth the risk to life and limb — both human and animal.
“These races have been around for generations, but the aggression was never this extreme,” says Madan Pal from Naanpur near Meerut. “In the past, they used wooden rods; now, pointed sticks and spurs drive the animals. Earlier, link roads in rural belt were used; now, they have spilled over to state roads.” The consequences are tragic, with exhausted bulls collapsing mid-race and overturned carts injuring bystanders who gather to cheer their village champions.
For animal rights advocates , the spectacle is an appalling display of cruelty. “Pointed rods jabbed at sensitive areas cause unbearable pain, pushing animals to run harder,” says Anshumali Vashishth of Animal Care Society. “The constant running shoots up their blood pressure to dangerous levels. Often, we get calls to rescue animals, but the aggression on these roads makes it hard even to pass with an ambulance.”
Meanwhile, the police remain on high alert, though enforcement is no easy task. “We urge villagers to stop these races and have taken action against violators with a larger force deployed this year and continuous patrolling,” says IG (Meerut Range) Nachiketa Jha. “Our vigilance is all that keeps things from spiralling. Over the years, we’ve managed to curb this menace to a large extent,” adds Jha.
Villagers, however, see the races as a test of endurance and honour, with organisers setting routes, pooling prize money, and readying the animals for months ahead. “Our 28km race from Meerut to Hapur, which we completed in 1 hour, 28 minutes, was a matter of pride for village,” says Kale Naval, whose village emerged victorious in this year’s most intense competition. “It was a huge event, with over a thousand bikes riding alongside.”
And in Bulandshahr, the passion takes on a more personal pride. Villagers feed their bulls a rich diet of ghee, milk, and gram, preparing them for the gruelling contest, even outfitting them with horseshoes for traction. Pauli Singh, a proud owner of a champion bull, boasts, “Raja is our village’s honour. No other bull can match his speed.”
Despite a police ban, these races surge forward, drawing crowds and disrupting traffic on what would otherwise be a sleepy road. Here, bullocks are forced to race up to 40km at speeds as high as 80kmph, goaded with sharp rods and pointed sticks that inflict pain to propel them to peak pace. The stakes are high: organisers set cash prizes up to Rs 2.5 lakh, fuelling fierce rivalries. For some, it’s about preserving village pride; for others, the prize money is worth the risk to life and limb — both human and animal.
“These races have been around for generations, but the aggression was never this extreme,” says Madan Pal from Naanpur near Meerut. “In the past, they used wooden rods; now, pointed sticks and spurs drive the animals. Earlier, link roads in rural belt were used; now, they have spilled over to state roads.” The consequences are tragic, with exhausted bulls collapsing mid-race and overturned carts injuring bystanders who gather to cheer their village champions.
For animal rights advocates , the spectacle is an appalling display of cruelty. “Pointed rods jabbed at sensitive areas cause unbearable pain, pushing animals to run harder,” says Anshumali Vashishth of Animal Care Society. “The constant running shoots up their blood pressure to dangerous levels. Often, we get calls to rescue animals, but the aggression on these roads makes it hard even to pass with an ambulance.”
Meanwhile, the police remain on high alert, though enforcement is no easy task. “We urge villagers to stop these races and have taken action against violators with a larger force deployed this year and continuous patrolling,” says IG (Meerut Range) Nachiketa Jha. “Our vigilance is all that keeps things from spiralling. Over the years, we’ve managed to curb this menace to a large extent,” adds Jha.
Villagers, however, see the races as a test of endurance and honour, with organisers setting routes, pooling prize money, and readying the animals for months ahead. “Our 28km race from Meerut to Hapur, which we completed in 1 hour, 28 minutes, was a matter of pride for village,” says Kale Naval, whose village emerged victorious in this year’s most intense competition. “It was a huge event, with over a thousand bikes riding alongside.”
And in Bulandshahr, the passion takes on a more personal pride. Villagers feed their bulls a rich diet of ghee, milk, and gram, preparing them for the gruelling contest, even outfitting them with horseshoes for traction. Pauli Singh, a proud owner of a champion bull, boasts, “Raja is our village’s honour. No other bull can match his speed.”
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