Alas, not for long for they stand in the shadow of the valley of death
Scrubbed neat and clean with sparkling skins, their eyes painted with antimony, their hennaed or dyed bodies decked out in colourful plastic flowers or paper frills and other smart trimmings, they appear to have come straight out of a top-of-the-drawer beauty parlour and wellness gym. The toilette attention that has lately been lavished on them seems to have stirred their vanity to no end as they gaze contentedly and with a rather haughty expression straight into the television cameras. They seem to be aware of their beauty and looks and also of the fact that they are the undoubted centre of attraction.
Their adoring mob of fans, admirers and enthusiasts crowd excitedly around them, sizing up their vital statistics in a mouth-watering manner, but without the usual wolf-whistles and catcalls. For this is not your conventional beauty contest or fashion show with a bevy of beauties vying for the title of ‘fairest of them all’ or strutting and goose-stepping to and fro on a ramp with the most grotesque facial gestures and bodily movements. These are the bovines and other livestock all fatted and dolled up for the great annual slaughter or carnival of the Eidul Azha. They are the star performers of the show (for the solemn festival has degenerated like everything else into a display of pageantry) but alas, not for long, for they stand in the shadow of the valley of death.
For the benefit of the uninitiated, their handlers, managers or press agents, called simply ‘owners’ in normal circumstances, keep up a running commentary of the special gourmet (and exotic) diet fed to their four-legged wards over the past year, the fatherly interest and the devoted care shown to their every whim and fancy, and in particular, emphasising the fact that they were more a part of the family than pets. Of course all this singing of high praises can only have one object and lead rather bluntly to the inevitable logic of a jacked-up price, which is even more exotic and outlandish than the animals’ supposed diet. The latter, by the way, seems reminiscent of the fabled, giant-like portions consumed daily by the famous local wrestlers of yore, (of course minus the carnivore part) in almonds, dates, nuts and milk and other dairy products, all super-rich in proteins and carbohydrates. A figure of one and a half million rupees for a ‘matching’ pair of bovines, unbelieving to the ears, is a commonly quoted price, at least in front of the television cameras. What actually transpires behind the scenes after all the praises and sales pitch remains a mystery which no one among the eager-beaver young investigative journalists has managed to solve so far.
A figure of one and a half million rupees for a ‘matching’ pair of bovines, unbelieving to the ears, is a commonly quoted price, at least in front of the television cameras. What actually transpires behind the scenes after all the praises and sales pitch remains a mystery which no one among the eager-beaver young investigative journalists has managed to solve so far
Along with the goats, sheep, cows and bulls, a few aloof ships of the desert are also similarly festooned, garlanded and decorated, trotted out and propagated with the same ‘Arabian Nights’ stories to excite the curiosity of the buyers and compel them to reach for their wallets, already moth-eaten by the astronomical hike in all items of daily use, courtesy our ruthless profiteers and an uncaring city administration.
But this is the rosier side of the picture, meant for public consumption and presented in the glare of the television cameras. The electronic media too takes a rather gleeful pleasure in highlighting the far-fetched and sensational aspects of the seller’s storyline. But behind the scenes, there is also a sordid and darker side. The sacrificial animals soon to meet their doom are kept in dirty, overcrowded enclosures and pens. They are just fed enough to keep them on their feet when a prospective buyer comes by. They are reportedly force-fed certain kinds of grain and then ‘water-boarded’ to cause their stomachs to balloon and swell and give an impression of extra weight. And yet they talk only of the tortures inflicted on the inmates of the Guantanamo Bay Detention (or Concentration) Camp. Not only this. Our evil geniuses (the only kind we have at all levels) have this year come up with the brilliant idea of affixing false teeth and even ‘transplanting’ horns on the poor animals to befool the customers as regards their age, sex and general health. One can imagine the dangerous chemicals being used in bringing about this magical metamorphosis and the toll it would take on anyone consuming such tainted meat. The officials of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would probably have a fit if they saw this actual but hidden picture.
Man’s inhumanity to man is recorded throughout history, but his inhumanity towards his dumb fellow creatures is even more barbaric. We in Pakistan have all but wiped out our wildlife through indiscriminate shooting and netting, and are now a ‘wildlife stressed’ country in the world’s eyes, as surely as we are also water-stressed. The recent killing of a rare species of python in Lahore’s Jinnah Gardens by ignorant individuals is a case in point. The Australian writer and television broadcaster Clive James in his typical humorous vein had this to say about the Nobel Prize winning author Earnest Hemingway, who was also a legendary hunter: ‘He was in Spain to watch the bulls bite the dust. Or else he was out in the Gulf Stream killing fish. Or else he was in Africa killing animals again. Hemingway was always killing something. He called it an appetite for life! He killed at least one each of every animal in Africa. He caught at least one each of every big fish in the sea. The dog was the only animal to survive an encounter with him. He killed everything and eventually himself. He had bagged his last trophy’! Hemingway committed suicide in 1961.
Coming back to the subject, it all boils down to one word: commercialism. We have the misfortune to be living in a crassly economic age, one in which money and wealth have become the sole criterion of power and success. The stock exchange, the profit motive (the more the merrier) and advertising are its catalysts and driving engines. Every human event, whether secular or sacred, has been reduced to a mere ritual or a jarring aberration by the undue emphasis on the mercantile aspect. The high extravagance which has been introduced in Eid has totally despoiled its true character and real spirit, the spirit of self-sacrifice and consideration for the less fortunate. As a consequence, mere gluttony has replaced generosity. Commercialism has bred greed, mendacity and rapacity and eroded basic values and trust in humanity.
The old fashioned travelling shoe salesman in American playwright Tennessee William’s one act play, The Last of My Solid Gold Watches feels confused and frustrated at the new-fangled changes (which he calls ‘deterioration’) that now confront him in every town in his sales territory. Mr Charlie Colton has been on the road ‘Fawty-six yeahs in Mahch’! He laments that, ‘the road is changed. The shoe industry is changed. These times are—revolution! I don’t like the way that it looks. The ALL LEATHER slogan don’t sell shoes any more. The stuff that a shoe’s made of is not what is going to sell it any more. No. STYLE! SMARTNESS! APPEARANCE! That’s what counts with the modern shoe purchaser. The ALL LEATHER slogan is not what sells any more—not in shoes and not in humanity neither! The emphasis isn’t on quality. Production, production, yes! But out of inferior goods! Ersatz—that’s what they’re making ‘em out of’.
Although some may call it a false analogy, Lahore’s ancient tradition of kite-flying and its fabulous long lost festival of colours, Basant, have also fallen prey to the selfsame evil spirit of commercialism. O, what pleasure and joy the simple pastime brought to millions from all walks of life
Shoes bring up the matter of the hides of the sacrificed animals. These have become a big hide-and-seek game this year as the government banned the donation of hides to proscribed organisations and put restrictions on the political parties’ employing the infamous ‘chit’ system, the latter basically an offer that couldn’t be refused or else their own ‘Mr Hydes’ would go into action. This was the much preferred ploy and even the monopoly of the hidebound MQM. But enough of hides!
Although some may call it a false analogy, Lahore’s ancient tradition of kite-flying and its fabulous long lost festival of colours, Basant, have also fallen prey to the selfsame evil spirit of commercialism. O, what pleasure and joy the simple pastime brought to millions from all walks of life. But then ‘evil things in robes of sorrow’, namely Big Business in the garb of multi-nationals, entered the picture and combined with that ignorance of which our country is the world capital, turned a peaceful and harmless activity into a killer sport, since banned by the Supreme Court. Gigantic ego’s came into action, with ever larger-sized kites to match them, stronger unbreakable threads advertised as being ‘made from hundred percent Egyptian cotton’ (to fuel the profit motive) and also other dangerous embellishments. Thus, ‘fair became foul and foul became fair’ to destroy the whole mystique and spirit of the game. With Basant as with bakras and the bovines, the motto became bigger, flashier, but hardly any better!
And so the march of commercialisation continues unabated in our Brave New World as ‘wealth accumulates and men decay’. And so do simple festivities, customs, traditions, culture and countries. Decay, that is!