Bakra Eid in Karachi: Urban amusement and masculine anxieties

Buying expensive cattle is the new norm. And is done so with the use of religion to justify this extravagance

The fact that Eidul Azha is popularly known as Bakra Eid in our vernacular is perhaps no mere coincidence given the ever-growing emphasis on the animal being sacrificed rather than the true spirit of the sacrifice itself. However, a disclaimer here is pertinent. By no means do I intend to criticise the South Asian connotation of the occasion, nor am I arguing for purist optics on the issue. The phenomenon at hand is rather contemporary and relevant to a considerable urban middle class segment of Karachi that has not only reformed the dynamics of the occasion but, more importantly, crystalised a unique trend that has spread beyond the limits of the city.

Growing up in a family of Bakra Eid enthusiasts, I can vouch for the recent trends and the resultant social implications. As a child I remember waiting eagerly to go to animal markets that were usually setup 10-15 days before Eid. For over a decade, from the mid-nineties onwards, there was no concept of dairy-farm bred species on sale in these markets. From rural farmers to urban investors and business groups, this was a major shift in the economics of Eid season livestock. Undoubtedly, the quality of breeds and livestock yield augmented, but this meant systematic oppression for small livestock farmers. Their presence in Eid markets has completely vanished as compared to two decades ago. This is due to the investment capacity of dairy farmers who make purchases at nominal prices a few months before Eid from peasants and cash on their investments with ridiculous returns. Today, animals are displayed in markets in Karachi as early as 40-50 days prior to Eid, numerous Youtubers are vlogging about this several times a day, and an e-visit to the market is also possible now.

Buying expensive cattle is the new norm. What is more interesting here is the use of religion, as is often the case in our society, to justify this extravagance in the name of qurbani. There has been a lot of discussion on the essence of the sacrifice and the prevalent qurbani flaunting culture. Paying a million for an oversized force-fed bull no longer raises eyebrows, as is the case with paying a similar amount (even more) for a 10+ course wedding dinner. What is different though is religious scholars criticising the latter as israf (spending excess) while the former is regarded as discretion of the sahib-e-hesyat (man of property/respect). My point here is not to contend that two wrongs make a right; in fact, if both are religious obligations and one is encouraged without israf, then why not the other? I argue that the justifications internalised by the qurbani enthusiasts are very much tools of the capitalists of this industry.

For example, you will be told that the Bakra Eid economy worth billions is beneficial for the country with all the circulation of money involved. But then is this not true for unnecessarily lavish weddings with all the catering, event management, etc. involved? As scholars rightly argue, the obligation of the wedding should be simplified and masses should not be burdened with the societal pressure of superfluous spending. So, why is this not the case with qurbani then? The term shauq (passion) – as you might have noticed these days on social media – is part of the justification. The shauq of qurbani (passion of sacrifice) is an important consumer internalisation under the direct patronage of the capitalist Eid economy. The shauq arguably cannot be fulfilled by replacing the one million bull with one of an average size worth 0.1 million. Those who argue for spending the money in a more impactful way by supporting humanitarian causes are rebutted that the meat is distributed amongst the poor. If that is the purpose, then surely 10 bulls worth 0.1 million will yield more meat for distribution than a branded one million bull. But clearly that too is not the purpose as this impulse is driven by something else, i.e. shauq.

What is shauq then? From my experience of visiting sacrificial markets for the past two decades, this has to do with an urban romanticisation of livestock. Every experience of Bakra Eid is exotic for the Karachi urban middle class, from visiting the markets and buying the animal, to its transportation, feeding and care at home, to the slaughter scene (that too is fetishised). Cleary this shauq of lavish expenditure for sacrificial animals is visibly less in other urban centres of the country. Perhaps Lahoris, for example, are not in awe of livestock as it's not exotic to their geography. If this is the case, then we can clearly distinguish the shauq from religious obligation and can also criticise the shauq without making it a religious debate.

These debates also often feed the sectarian tendencies of our society as was observed in an incident in the Defence locality of Karachi sometime back. A known politician and jeweller of the city was slaughtering animals on the road outside his house and blocking it off for cars. A minister who was passing by made a video and posted it online criticising the act of making the sacrificial process a source of trouble for others. The social media brigade of the shauqeens came to the rescue of the jeweller and started attacking the minister’s sect for blocking off roads during the Ashura processions. The point I want to make here is why was the criticism related to the way the sacrifice was being carried out deemed to be a criticism of the act of qurbani itself. The whole fiasco of blocking off public streets for weeks in order to set up tents for animals and later their slaughter is very much part of the Karachi urban experience of qurbani.

Along this line, Muslim countries where sacrifices are performed at slaughterhouses are not idealised due to the apparent lack of the “fun” element. The amusement lately has surpassed limits of sanity. There are people who breed cattle from their birth on the rooftops of 100-square feet houses in crowded localities of the city. The sizes of the giant bulls raised does not allow them to be brought down through the narrow staircases. Hence, cranes are brought, and a scene is created where thousands of people including mainstream media gather to ‘revel’ in the gruesome act of bringing down the horrified animals hanging and defecating in the air. A few years ago, one bull in such an infamous episode fell from the crane belt and died. Is this part and parcel of the quite vague phenomenon of shauq or is there a rational boundary to it?

To add to this, the shauq is also a proud masculine trait of the urban middle class Karachiites. During my childhood, men who could not bargain with sellers in a particular manner were regarded as lacking the crude bargaining instinct of a shaqueen. However, buying expensive animals from popular dairy farm brands has become an elitist show now. Ironically, the shauq of bargaining at throw away prices has been replaced by the shauq of spending more. Similarly, young men who were not enthusiastic about feeding and roaming around with the sacrificial animals were often labelled as “sissies” in the neighbourhood.

Something that has been traumatic in my personal experience is how young men of families are expected and pressurised to take the lead during the slaughtering of the animals. I am not referring to the arrangements with the butcher and handling of the meat etc. but actually sacrificing the animals by themselves. I cannot emphasise enough how this is praised as the best practice instead of leaving the most sensitive and perilous part to a professional to handle. As someone who is extremely sensitive to the bloody ordeal, I never understood why the scenario becomes yet another amusement episode for the family and neighbourhood. I have seen numerous children crying helplessly during this but still they are purposely exposed to it as if they need be thick-skinned about it. A sensitive young man here is perceived to lack the distinctive masculine trait to handle the gore.

To add to this, the insensitivity and cruelty shown to the animals being slaughtered adds to ‘fun’ for the crowd which enjoys every moment of any wrong move by the butcher and the resultant vengeance from the injured animal. Every year, numerous videos of such episodes go viral on social media and their views in the millions really sums up our inglorious mindsets. I beg to disagree with the prevalent amusement culture of Bakra Eid, and it should not be mingled with the spirit of qurbani itself.