Eid-ul-Adha: For us, it was a feast of meat

After the meat from the Qurbani was brought home, it was divided and distributed. The pots full of meat were put on the stove, and the process of continuous cooking began. The whole house would be filled with the aroma of fried meat.

We called it "Jhuri Mangsho." The best part of Eid was eating this Jhuri Mangsho afterward. It was enjoyed with hot rice and lentils, bread, paratha, or even mixed with puffed rice.

Whenever Eid approaches, memories of past days often come to mind. Eid during childhood and adolescence meant pure joy. School holidays, roaming around the neighbourhood, visiting houses to see cows and goats, feeding them leaves, and discussing whose cow was the best. In the 70s and 80s, each family would sacrifice either one cow or one goat for Qurbani. Those who were a bit more affluent would sacrifice two. We grew up in a colony, so our neighbours and relatives in Dhaka would also perform Qurbani in this way. It was done as a religious duty, without any extravagance or competition.

During Eid-ul-Adha, we didn't receive any special clothes. One Eid meant new clothes and shoes, while the bigger Eid or Bakri Eid meant as much meat as we could eat. That was the tradition 45-50 years ago. Today's children might wonder, what's so special about being able to eat as much meat as you want for a day? Eating meat is a regular thing for today's children. They can have as much meat as they want any day. Children from well-off families can enjoy various meat dishes both at home and outside.

But back in the 70s and 80s, we couldn't eat as much as we wanted, especially not outside the home. We didn't have money, there wasn't a trend of eating out, and there weren't many food shops. That's why festival days were so special for us. We couldn't enjoy such feasts on other days of the year. The experience of children growing up in the same era in this city was more or less the same.

After bringing the meat home, it was divided and distributed. The pots full of meat were put on the stove, and the continuous cooking began. The whole house would be filled with the aroma of fried meat. We called it Jhuri Mangsho. The best part of Eid was eating Jhuri Mangsho afterward. It was enjoyed with hot rice and lentils, bread, paratha, or even mixed with puffed rice. Many houses didn't have refrigerators, so it was best to cook the Qurbani meat this way. Even if there was a fridge, only a small amount of meat was stored. Nowadays, many people store the whole cow in deep freezers and eat it throughout the year, with little distribution. And Jhuri Mangsho is almost forgotten.

Writing this article brings back some fond memories of Qurbani Eid from our times. Although Eid now doesn't bring much excitement for children, and for adults, it's more about responsibilities and work.

*The Nehari Incident*

Eid night meant watching "Anandamela" on BTV, a favourite program for every family. After a day of excitement, roaming around, and feasting, everyone would sit down to watch Anandamela together. On one such Qurbani Eid, while we were watching Anandamela, we suddenly heard shouts of "Fire, fire" from the 12th-floor apartment of our building. The apartment belonged to the Iran brothers. With 11 siblings, an uncle, and an aunt, about 15 people were celebrating Eid there. Due to the large number of people, they would sacrifice a small cow.

Hearing the shouts, all the residents rushed to help. From our balcony, we could call out to the Asad Gate fire brigade staff because there were no buildings in between. The house was full of people, shouting, crying, and screaming. The 11 siblings were calling out each other's names. The floor was flooded with water, the fire brigade's thick hose was there, and Anandamela was playing on TV. And we were, of course, curious onlookers.

When we investigated the cause of the fire, we found that a large pot of Nehari had been cooking on a kerosene stove in the small kitchen. A jolt had knocked over the stove and the pot, spilling smoke, kerosene fumes, Nehari's water, oil, and paya everywhere. Before the fire could start, everyone had panicked and shouted so loudly that no one noticed whether there was a fire. Fortunately, there was no actual fire, but the Nehari was not consumed.

*The Drumstick Incident*

In the early 90s, before a Qurbani Eid, our brother Shahid came from Chittagong with a huge tiffin box around noon. It was a freezer tiffin box, something we had never seen before. We were all curious to see what was inside. From the box, he pulled out massive chicken drumsticks, each about a foot long. We had never seen such big drumsticks before. At that time, we had no idea about farm or broiler chickens. We wondered how we could eat such a large leg, what it would taste like. Each drumstick weighed as much as a goat leg! Shahid suggested that we make chicken roast with these drumsticks alongside the beef.

Shahid had always planned to leave his job on the ship and start something in the country. Every time he came back, he would find a job, but within a few days, he would wrap it up and return to the ship. That time, he had taken a job with a private company in Chittagong that dealt in seafood and farm chickens. Thanks to his job, we got those giant chicken drumsticks. Who knew that a few years later, broiler chickens would dominate the market and take over from goat meat during Eid, as they have now.

*The Cattle vs. Humans Incident*

I heard the news from a northern district. At that time, I was working at the desk of a national daily. A few days before Qurbani Eid, a local correspondent sent a detailed fax about a road accident. A truck carrying cattle had fallen into a ditch, killing five cows and three goats, while the rest survived. It was definitely news, but not significant enough for a national daily. After reading the four-paragraph news, I was deciding whether to include it on the local page or discard it, when I saw the last paragraph mentioned that three cattle traders had died in the accident and the driver was missing. 

I called the correspondent to ask why he had put the deaths of three people at the end of the report. He replied that since the cattle were being brought for Qurbani and more cattle had died, he mentioned the cattle first.

*The Clever Buyer Incident*

My brother and some of his friends started a cattle business alongside their jobs. They had a large farm in Tangail. In the Qurbani Eid of 2016/17, they got a stall in the VIP gallery of the Kamalapur cattle market, which included five chairs. On the day before Eid, by afternoon, they had only one cow left for sale. The support staff was eager to go home. They noticed that an elderly man had come by two or three times since noon to bargain for the cow. He was around 70/75 years old, wearing a thin white Adi Panjabi, with a white beard and hair, and a bright, radiant face. They couldn't agree on the price, so the man kept coming and going.

In the evening, he came again. After bargaining, they agreed to sell the cow, priced at 1.3 lakh Taka, for 1 lakh. As it was getting late, they didn't want to wait any longer. The old man, although willing to buy the cow for 1 lakh, ended up giving them 99,000 Taka, as he couldn't manage to pull out the remaining amount from his pocket.

After buying the cow, he sat on a chair nearby and tied the cow next to him. My brother noticed that the man seemed to be talking to someone on the phone. Within 10 minutes, two people came, and the man sold the same cow to them for 1.25 lakh Taka.

Seeing this, the real cattle traders were astonished. How did the old man buy the cow for 99,000 Taka and sell it for a profit of 26,000 Taka right next to them? One of the sellers, in his bewilderment, tried to greet the old man, who laughed and said, "No need to greet me, son. I will give you a book of wisdom." With these words, he walked away, laughing.