Yaqoob has become frail and wiry over the past year, since he has lost his job and finances have become even worse to deal with. He has four children, yet cannot afford to feed them much. All the money that comes in the house, which is on rent, is from odd jobs he does, and his wife working as a domestic help.
Now that Eidul Azha is here, Yaqoob does not expect to celebrate at all, because he has hardly any money to pay for clothes, let alone even think of sacrificing any animal for food. In the very next neighbourhood, Muhammad Kamal is preparing to go to his village near Gujrat to celebrate Eid with his family.
He has bought two goats this time and is aiming to sacrifice them on the first day of Eid. He has sent home money for his wife and children to have their clothes made, and says that they will celebrate at home. He makes no
mention of giving anything to needy people such as Yaqoob.
The spirit of Eid, especially Eidul Azha has become more and more centered around oneself over the subsequent years. Where the occasion is all about sacrifice, and forgoing something that is close to ones heart, it seems as if the general atmosphere is nothing but a growing sense of ostentatiousness, or flaunting ones wealth. In fact many people do consider buying animals a kind of a status symbol.
Saba, a college student, reveals that some of her classmates often talk about how many cows or goats they will be getting this Eid. Not only is this in bad taste, she says, it can also make others who are underprivileged feel bad or embarrassed. “Sacrificing is your private matter, between you and God,” she says. “Why must everyone else know about how many animals you have bought for what price?” Saba says.
As Saba says, people do often also openly discuss the prices of animals bought. Sacrificial animals have become so expensive over the years that it too easily becomes a status symbol. But more recently another trend of hoarding meat has become even more common. This also extends to those who don’t sacrifice any animal. When platters and trays of freshly chopped mutton or beef appear in people’s houses, many often share this with others only when their freezer is so full there is no more space left.
Housemaid Saima admits privately that the family she works for is rather well off, but does not think much in terms of giving to her. Often she has to resort to asking for some extra cash, or kind. On Eid days, she says, they call her in for extra work, but at the end of the day she is given one packet of meat to take home. “Maybe they are not doing it on purpose, but all I know is that they don’t give it a thought to distribute the meat that comes in their house with poor people. Maximum, they will share it with their neighbours, who pass it on themselves. I know because I have seen this happen,” she says.
This kind of hoarding of meat on Eid day is only expected to bring about a shallow satisfaction. But perhaps there are still some others among whom the spirit is still alive. Muhammad Salman, a businessman, says that he could never ever think of storing so much meat in his home while several others do not even get vegetables or bread to eat everyday. “It is your duty, not just as a Muslim, but basically as a human to share what you get in such large amounts. Even if it is money that you get, you should give some to charity or someone needy whom you know,” he says.
His sister agrees saying that it would be immensely selfish to keep this much meat for oneself, instead of giving it away. “The point is not to just conveniently give it away to your neighbours and friends, for whom it really makes no difference because they probably pass it on to someone else. The actual point is, to give it to those who starve day in and day out and would weep if they were offered such a luxurious meal at least once in a year. Give them more than you have ever imagined giving them: that will be true sacrifice,” she says.
Eid is about sharing…are you?
