The GOAT of all goats!

Eid Mubarak, people! Every Eid-ul-Adha has its sacrificial star. In some years, it is an ox with the Bollywood fringe or the camel with a passport longer than your visa queue at the embassy.

But last year, Bangladesh met its match in a goat—yes, a goat—priced at a whopping Tk15 lakh, which actually turned out to be less livestock and more whistleblower.

It all began with Mushfiqur Rahman Ifat, a man, a legend, and apparently, a guru of farm animals—maybe he considered himself as one of them too. His name alone piles up more aura than a myth passed on by my grandmother.

He made headlines last Eid when he spent a jaw-dropping Tk15 lakh on a single goat from Sadeeq Agro, a posh farm that seemed more interested in breeding scandals than cattle.

Now let us get back to the GOAT! At first glance, the goat seemed unremarkable. Maybe a bit of flair, why not? Good bone structure, perhaps?

The sort of goat you would expect to see on an Instagram reel, captioned "#EidReady." But this was no ordinary one.

This goat had presence. It stood like it owned the paddock and probably the farm mortgage too. It had that smug, side-eye-laced glare of someone who has seen your tax filings and found them laughable.

Onlookers claimed the goat could sniff out a bribe from a mile away. People would also joke on social media that, "It would not eat grass unless the land deed was clean."

But before anyone could laugh it off as Eid hysteria, things began to unravel.

By 25 June 2024, Sadeeq Agro—home of the famous goat—was evicted by Dhaka North City Corporation.

The reason? A colourful mix of land disputes, licensing issues, and what DNCC tactfully described as "irregularities." What they did not say—but everyone else was whispering—was that this goat had started talking. Metaphorically, of course.

Within weeks, the goat had become a symbol. It had allegedly "exposed" the ill-gotten wealth of its owner, Mushfiqur Rahman Ifat, and even unearthed the suspicious income streams of his father.

Overnight, it was not just an animal—it was a vessel of divine justice wrapped in fur and smugness.

Soon, other names started falling like half-priced cows at Gabtoli bazaar.

First came Matiur and his wife, Laila Kanis, swept up in what the tabloids dramatically dubbed "The Great Goat Fiasco."

A saga of wealth, whispers, and one particularly tone-deaf Facebook post featuring Laila posing with the goat and the caption: "Alhamdulillah, blessed." Blessed, indeed.

Then came the rest. Jahangir, a former peon to Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, found himself in the dock. Syed Abed Ali, once a PSC driver, was suddenly very popular with the Anti-Corruption Commission.

None of them had direct ties to the goat, but the timing was too poetic. One could not help but imagine the goat chewing grass while watching their downfall on television.

"It is like the goat is judging us," said one government official, anonymously, presumably while deleting WhatsApp messages.

As the storm raged, rumours spread faster than a viral Eid cooking reel by Keka Ferdousi. The goat, it was said, had brought down half the political elite without uttering a bleat. Memes surfaced with captions like "This goat knows where your offshore accounts are."

One particularly savage cartoon showed the goat in a courtroom, pointing its hoof at a sweating minister. While most goats dream of making it to the Qurbani show ring, this one had accidentally become Bangladesh's most feared auditor.

The symbolism was too rich to ignore. In a year when global corruption headlines were buried under the weight of war and inflation, it took a goat to cut through the noise.

When Lionel Messi lifted the Copa America trophy in 2024, the internet exploded with "GOAT" jokes. Bangladesh, always one step ahead, presented a literal goat who seemed to lift the veil on decades of kleptocracy.

The joke was too delicious. Argentina had Messi. Bangladesh had a real GOAT.

As the fallout continued, reports emerged that former Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina had fled—although no direct link was drawn to the goat, we were all thinking it.

Salman F Rahman and Anisul Huq were reportedly caught trying to flee via a leaky boat from Sadarghat, only to be met by waiting police officers. In a final twist, even tech-savvy Net Palak found himself unable to "log out" of the crisis.

Newsrooms debated whether the goat deserved a national award. Protesters carried posters of the goat at rallies stating, "More honest than your MP."

But where is the goat now?

After all the scandals, the goat was found not in witness protection, as many hoped, but back at Sadeeq Agro's Savar branch.

Its old Mohammadpur empire was in shambles—broken sheds, melted air conditioners, and a lonely sweet-making machine gathering dust.

Yet the goat stood, unbothered, chewing with the same righteous disdain it had always shown.

Still up for sale for the coming Eid-ul-Adha, the goat remains unpurchased. Its price? Still an eye-watering Tk15 lakh, perhaps?

But buyers will hesitate. How do you bargain with a goat that once took down the government?

"If I buy it, will I end up in jail too?" one man asked, only half-jokingly.

Sadeeq Agro's remaining staff offer nervous laughs. "We guarantee the meat is clean. Morally? Well, that is between you and Allah."

The goat reminds us that in a country where the powerful rarely fall and corruption often goes unpunished, sometimes it takes a four-legged icon to show us the absurdity of our reality.

We have been so desperate for heroes that we embraced a goat. But perhaps that is fitting. Politicians, bureaucrats, and tycoons have had their turn at stardom.

Eid belongs to an animal with better ethics than most public servants and more spine than your average cabinet member.

In a country of daily headlines filled with despair and déjà vu, the goat gave us something rare: closure with a side of comedy. It held up a mirror, chewed thoughtfully, and asked, "You sure you want to keep voting for these people? I mean, if there is a vote that is."

And perhaps that is the true sacrifice of Eid—not just the animals we offer, but the delusions we surrender.

So, here is to the GOAT of all goats. The only public figure in recent memory who did not lie, steal, or flee.

Maybe it is time to nominate the GOAT for Parliament.

After all, if the goat could clean up the country's corruption, imagine what it could do with a bigger budget?

Raise your glasses (of goat milk, of course). Eid Mubarak!