Every year, as Eidul Azha approaches, we see the same familiar scenes unfold in front of us. Youngsters, and even adults, lovingly give goats and cows names, and buy them garlands and loads of fodder. And the evenings are filled with activity and fun, when the streets become runways for livestock fashion shows and kids act like mini farm managers.

And social media? It turns into a full-blown “Eid-animal influencer” competition. If your goat didn’t have at least one dramatic ‘slow-mo’ video set to trending music, is it really Eid?

Let’s be honest, some of it is fun. It’s part of the season’s charm, no doubt. But sometimes, it gets awkward when things get out of hand, and you or someone else indulges in something really weird or something totally inhumane that shouldn’t be done to animals! And people then even post it, to show the act and their bravery.

If you’re like me and hear a whisper from within, “Is this what it’s all about?” then maybe that’s our sign to pause and reflect. Because, somewhere along the way, something may have gone far beyond what it was ever meant to be. Let’s rewind a bit.

The real story

We all know, though, Eidul Azha commemorates the story of Prophet Ibrahim (A.S.), who was willing to sacrifice his beloved son for the sake of his Creator, on his command. That’s not light stuff. That’s deep. That’s commitment. It’s a lesson not just of obedience, but of trust, faith and absolute surrender.

And this is actually the bond and commitment to the real cause we have to develop with the animal we are bringing into our house. So, it’s not about aesthetics. It’s about the kind of sacrifice that shakes our soul from the inside.

Now look around. Scroll through a few posts. We’ve turned it into a parade. A show. Sometimes, a competition. And the spirit of Eidul Azha seems to now reflect these: “Whose goat is bigger and healthier?” “Whose outfit matched better with their bull?” “Whose barbecue setup looked like a five-star hotel?”

I’m not here to shame anyone. It’s natural to want to share joy. And yes, the goats are adorable. But the question isn’t “Is this bad?” The question is, “Are we losing something deeper in the process?” If the answer is not clear, it’s time to bring a change.

Where do we stand?

Sadly, we live in a world where moments don’t feel real unless they’re posted for everyone to see and react. If there’s no photo, the question arises, “Did the qurbani even happen?”

Our smartphones are practically glued to our hands, it’s hard to resist the temptation of capturing everything.

I’m not calling to ban phones or stop taking pictures. That’s unrealistic today, and honestly, nobody’s giving up their cameras that easily. All I want to bring into the readers’ attention is to create a balance. It’s about asking ourselves: “Can we really enjoy the celebration without forgetting the meaning behind it?”

Because when you strip away the filters and captions, what remains is the heart, the core meaning of Eidul Azha, a heart that beats with sacrifice, compassion, humility and pure faith.

Let the sacrifice this year be meaningful

Not just by going through the motions like it’s an annual to-do list. Wake up. Slaughter. Eat. Nap. Post a ‘Blessed’ caption and repeat. No. This year, let’s actually ‘feel’ it.

• Let it be meaningful in the way we think, act and connect.

• Let it be meaningful when you wake up and make dua, not out of routine, but with reflection and a pure heart.

• Let it be meaningful when you offer your qurbani and remember that it’s not just meat, it’s a symbol of what you’re willing to part with for the sake of something bigger than yourself.

• Let it be meaningful when you give, not just to the people you know, but especially to those you don’t. Because the true spirit of Eidul Azha isn’t in sharing selfies, it’s in sharing sacrifice. So let’s not turn our good deeds into photo ops with captions like “While giving to…”.

Good deeds are meant to be sincere, done for the love of Allah, not for the likes, applause or the world’s approval.

The emotional side of sacrifice

What matters to me most is our self, our character. Eidul Azha makes us reflect on giving away the most beloved thing for the bigger cause, a sacrifice that has to be done on multiple levels.

So to me, it’s not always about animals. Sometimes it’s sacrificing ego. Letting go of grudges. Forgiving someone who didn’t ask for it. Saying “I’m sorry” when it’s easier to stay silent. Giving time, attention or even love where it’s needed most.

Those sacrifices? They don’t come with hashtags. But they matter. A lot.

And let’s be real…

Yes, the whole neighbourhood might smell like a butcher shop for a week after Eid. The cousins will argue over who gets the ribs. And yes, someone will definitely try to grill indoors, fill the house with smoke, get scolded for being naive, and leave everyone coughing and scrambling for fresh air.

But somehow, it’s all worth it, because it’s truly amazing when you all sit together afterward, sharing laughter, stories and those funny little moments that turn into lasting memories.

That’s Eid. It’s messy, chaotic and beautifully humane, a festival that is unlike any other. But it’s also a time for connection. With your family. With your Creator. And believe it or not, with yourself!

Finding joy without losing meaning

You don’t have to choose between tradition and modern life. You don’t have to cancel your photo sessions or delete your Instagram account. Just don’t let them be the ‘only’ part of your experience.

Take that cute goat or cow selfie, but also take a moment to sit with your parents and ask them what Eid meant to them while growing up. Light up the barbecue, but also light up your heart with a little prayer. It’s not about doing less. It’s about doing it with intention, pure intention.

A message to the scrollers

To those who post every second of the day, I get it. You’re excited. It’s a celebration. But maybe this year, post less and experience more; find your connection in kindness. One good deed, one heartfelt prayer, one sincere smile, that’s all it takes to feel part of something greater.

So yes, let the sacrifice be meaningful, with a touch of little fun. Because when faith and joy go hand in hand, that’s when Eid really shines.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 6th, 2025