PESHAWAR: As the first rays of Eidul Azha festival sun gilded the rugged hills of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, the province burst into a vibrant tapestry of sacrifice, togetherness and timeless traditions. From the bustling streets of Peshawar to the serene valleys of Swat and the tribal heartlands of Bajaur, families gathered under one roof, rekindling bonds that modern life often stretches thin.
In a sprawling hujra in Peshawar’s Hayatabad, the aroma of freshly slaughtered meat mingled with the sweet scent of Sheer Khurma. Haji Zarin Gul, a retired schoolteacher, watched with quiet pride as his three sons, two daughters and their families converged from Lahore, Karachi and Dubai. “Eidul Azha is not just about qurbani (sacrifice),” he said, adjusting his white shalwar kameez. “It is about sharing what Allah has given us.” His courtyard echoed with children’s laughter as they chased each other around the sacrificial animal’s hide spread for drying.
In Charsadda villages, men in embroidered waistcoats and polished shoes walked towards mosques in neat rows, exchanging warm embraces. Women, dressed in colourful embroidered dresses with heavy dupattas, prepared the feast at home.
The traditional menu remained sacred: mutton karahi, slow-cooked with tomatoes, green chillies and fresh coriander; chapli kebabs spiced with crushed pomegranate seeds; and saag cooked with tender liver. In many households, the liver and kidneys were distributed to neighbours as a symbol of immediate charity.
Hospitality, the hallmark of Pakhtun culture, reached new heights.
In Upper Dir, guests from as far as Islamabad found themselves welcomed with trays of green tea, fresh naan and plates piled with roasted meat.
“Even if a stranger knocks, he leaves as family,” smiled Bibi Halima, a mother of four, while stirring a large degh (cauldron) of paya (animal’s feet). In tribal districts like Kurram and Orakzai, where connectivity was once limited, improved roads have allowed distant relatives to travel back, strengthening tribal ties that have endured centuries of challenges.
Youngsters, particularly, have infused new energy into the festival. Groups of friends from universities in Peshawar and Mardan organised outdoor trips to the scenic spots of Malakand, Kalam and Kumrat. Dressed in casual jeans and traditional waistcoats, they carried coolers filled with grilled mutton, salad and cold drinks. At a picturesque meadow near Bahrain in Swat, a group of students from the University of Engineering and Technology, Peshawar, roasted meat over an open fire while sharing stories of campus life.
“Eid in the mountains feels different,” said 22-year-old Zarak Khan, clicking photographs on his smartphone. “We sacrifice an animal at home in the morning and then escape to nature. It’s our way of balancing tradition with modernity.” His friends added plates of tikka and raita to the Dastarkhwan laid on a colourful sheet. Selfies with snow-capped peaks in the background flooded social media, blending ancient rituals with contemporary celebration.
In Mingora, the main city of Swat, the bazaar presented a variety of colours. Butchers displayed decorated animals with henna patterns on their coats. Sweet shops overflowed with Sheer Khurma, Halwa Puri and Motichoor Laddoos. Tailors worked overtime stitching new clothes, while women bought bangles and bindi for little girls.
The spirit of sacrifice was most visible in remote areas.
In Kohistan, where winters are harsh and resources limited, families pooled money to buy a collective animal, ensuring no one was left out. Elders recounted tales of tribal jirgas resolving disputes during Eid gatherings, reinforcing community harmony.
As evening descended on Peshawar, the aroma of barbecued meat wafted through Qissa Khwani Bazaar. Families sat together on rooftops, sharing stories under a starlit sky.
For many, Eidul Azha festival is more than a religious obligation; it is a cultural lifeline.
It reconnects the diaspora with their roots, revives fading recipes in young hands, and allows the youth to breathe the fresh air of their ancestral land.
Published in Dawn, May 31st, 2026