January 20, 2005

A dusty service road below a bridge trails off from the not-so-super Super Highway that connects Karachi with Hyderabad. Here, the landscape changes as the port city's urban sprawl gives way to patches of barren sand, skeletal structures waiting to be constructed into flashy bungalows and the ever-growing brood of roadside eateries frazzled urbanites like to escape to.

But once a year a temporary structure comes up on both sides of the highway, represented by shabbily put-together pens. As one pays the Rs20 fee to park one's vehicle, a cloud of dust and the rising vapours of wet sand mixed with a variety of animal waste welcome the visitor to this strange, surreal place that, within a month, will all but disappear from the landscape. Welcome to Karachi's Bakra Mandi, or livestock market, where most citizens come to pick out their sheep, goats, rams, bulls and camels for the annual religious sacrifice of Eid-ul-Azha.

Known around the world by different names — Eid-ul-Adha; Bakra Eid, Bari Eid, Kurban Bayram; Eid-i-Qurban — the soul of the sacrifice has its roots in Quranic lore. Muslims of all colours and sects believe that the sanction for qurbani, or sacrifice, comes from the Almighty Himself, as a commemoration of Hazrat Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his beloved son Ismail for the pleasure of Allah. But just as Ibrahim, the khalil or friend of Allah, was about to use the knife, God, in His infinite munificence, replaced the child with a ram, thus establishing the sunnah (tradition) for believers of all times to come. And when the Holy Prophet Muhammad (SM) sacrificed close to 100 camels (according to various traditions) after the Haj Al-Wida (farewell pilgrimage), it became incumbent upon solvent Muslims to sacrifice the appropriate beasts according to their financial status.

Pakistan is no different from the comity of Muslim nations in many ways, even though at times we give more importance to the ritualistic aspects of faith rather than the spiritual charter behind those rituals. Still, though certain sections (e.g. the educated, pseudo-secular westernized 'elite') may turn their noses at this custom, while those on the bottom of the economic barrel can hardly afford the astronomical prices of sacrificial animals, the vast majority of the middle class across this country do their part to fulfil this highly-endorsed religious obligation.

The meat is to be divided up into three portions: one third for the household; one third for relatives and the remaining portion for the needy. This is a way to demonstrate equality, so that on this day at least, both the prince and the pauper can dine on the same spread. Yet sometimes one sees that the best portions are reserved for the family freezer, while the leftovers are grudgingly doled out to the less fortunate. But before one can enjoy the succulent cuts of mutton, beef and veal prepared in any way — qorma, barbequeue or roast — there remains the small matter of buying the animal. Enter the Bakra Mandi.

As the 10th day of Zul Hijjah — Bakra Eid — approaches, activity at the livestock market works up to a fever pitch, with buyers thronging the place almost 24 hours a day. And for those who didn't know, at night the mandi is brightly lit with huge fluorescent lights so that one can thoroughly inspect prospective beasts. On one side are the goats, rams and sheep, while across the highway the bulls and camels await, lazing around, waiting to be loaded on to trucks to be led away to meet their Maker soon enough. The merchants at the mandi hail mostly from rural Sindh — Nawabshah and Mirpur Khas to be exact — while animal sellers from other parts of the country as well as Karachi are also present.

Prices. What to say about prices? Well, in a country where the cost of everyday essentials spirals unchecked, who's to say there will be a check on how high the prices for these animals will soar? Sellers will immediately quote Rs8,000 for a sickly, frazzled-looking goat, while for animals of plumper, juicier breeds, the sky's the limit. Bulls are selling for Rs20,000 plus, while for camels, the range starts at Rs100,000. Of course, theses are average prices, and for those blessed with good bargaining skills, a decent pair of animals can be had for a little less, while those in the habit of showing off their humble sacrifices can spend hundreds of thousands of rupees on thoroughbred beasts.

But when the frenzied activity of the mandi has subsided; when the animals have been sacrificed; when the waste has been (hopefully) removed from roadsides and when all the appetizing kebabs, steaks and qormas have been downed, does the meaning of sacrifice and submission to the Divine Will register with the believers? Or has it become a religiously-tinged annual funfair? That, only the Creator knows. Eid mubarak!

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