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Qurbaani: My understanding of Bakri Eid



Growing up in a household with a catholic mother and a muslim father gave me an edge over the other kids in school. I got to celebrate twice the number of festivals. In our house, Christmas and Easter were celebrated as fervently as Ramzan Eid and Bakri Eid. As the world celebrated Bakri Eid, also known as Eid-al-Adha earlier this week, it made me remember the time when I was a young child growing up in Mumbai, and how this festival helped me understand some of life’s most important lessons.

Bakri Eid is a festival where Muslims all over the world perform the Qurbaani; the ritualistic sacrifice of an animal if they are able to. On this day, the experience of Abraham is remembered where he was called upon by God to sacrifice his son Isaac. Every year on Bakri Eid, I was told I was too young to go with him to see the Qurbaani happen. Dad would leave early in the morning with my uncles and return a few hours later with a wicker basket full of mutton parts, all cut up into pieces and layered in newspaper. It is mandated that the meat of the sacrificed animal must be divided into three equal shares, one for the poor, one for the family and the community and one for self. Later in the evening, as we drove with a cooler overflowing with meat in the backseat of our beloved 1959 Fiat Millicento, Dad explained to me the significance of this day. “Today, we reinforce our relationship with God, and with everything he has created”. He explained how it was our duty being financially fortunate to share our wealth with those in the community who had less. As we walked into some of the houses, I got my first lesson of privilege. A few years later, I would learn the lesson of hardship, when we were not able to do the Qurbaani, as the family business took a turn for the worse.

Watching an animal being slaughtered can be quite disturbing, and I was shielded from it as a child. Slaughter in the halal manner requires the severing of the carotid artery to enable the animal to bleed out completely. Watching the goat collapse on the floor, writhing as the life blood drains away is a sight that numbs you a little on the inside. So when the day finally came when I was allowed to go with the elders in the family and be part of this event, there was a huge amount of fear mixed with the sense of pride that marked the moment that I was not a kid anymore. Customarily it is the man of the house who performs the ritual, but that was something Dad could never bring himself to do. It explained why he was shocked that year when I proclaimed that I wanted to perform the act of sacrifice myself. As a young student of culinary arts, my work in butchery probably bolstered me for the act, I suppose. Maybe it was the burning desire to prove something to myself and to my family, I’ll never know why I chose to commit to it. That was the only one time in my life I did the sacrifice, but it is the one I will never be able to forget. That moment comes back to me every year when Bakri Eid is celebrated.

I may not subscribe to any particular religion today, however the lessons learned from that event left me with a more profound impact han any other. Through this ritual, not only do I understand the importance of community, and of charity, but respect for the animal as well. It is mandated in the Koran that no part of the sacrificed animal should go to waste. Muslim cuisine has developed in an extraordinary manner as a result where all parts of the animal including organ meat are turned into delicacies. As a chef, this is something I respect above all else. Seeing the suffering of the animal as a result of my actions made me understand the true cost of eating meat, and makes me think several times before I allow any of it to ever go to waste.




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