There are millions of people who rarely get to eat meat, though, in these times of deep freezers far less goes waste than was the case a few decades ago. For many weeks, even months, raans are put into the ovens to be roasted. Some are sent to the bosses and/ or influential friends. Some are exchanged. Eventually they all end up at the butcher’s — to be chopped.

The occasion of sacrificial Eid, or Eid Al Azha, is a very special one. It is announced by the children when an elderly grandpa struggles to get a reluctant ram down the tonga. Till the Eid day itself, these (rams) are the honorary citizens of Lahore. Carefully washed and decorated with henna, garlanded and covered with some ornamental silk chador that bears flying balloons and small tinkling bells attached to their necks and ankles, these are proudly marched around by the proud owners.

The animals are fed the choicest of fodder. Many of them risk dying from overeating. The night before the Eid, they are led to the shrine of the city’s patron saint to pay their last respects.

Some people raise the sacrificial animal for a good few weeks or even months. Our bicycle mechanic, Aziz, raised one that had lethal horns. It was a ferocious animal. Yet, as a child, I used to take it around, gripping it by one of its big ears. It was always friendly and obedient to me, perhaps because I’d feed him jalebis. I never wanted to eat its meat. A replacement lamb was adopted soon, which also endeared itself to me.

Sheep, goats, cows and camels come in all sorts of variety so that you can pick and choose according to the size of your pocket. Here, you get to see the kinds of goats and sheep that you wouldn’t normally find at the butcher’s. For instance, Turki dunba, which isn’t native to Turkey. Or the chakki wala dunba with prominent layers of condensed fat (you don’t find many these days).

The mountain goats with long spiral horns are a marvel. Before the advent of (the menace of) plastic, handles and knobs of kettles and other kitchenware were made of these horns.

On the eve of Eid, the population of these visiting animals exceeds that of the homo sapiens. There is more fodder on sale than there are vegetables for the humans. Tomatoes, key ingredient in cooking meat, go out of stock and thus are priced exorbitantly. The same goes for the onions. In fact, meat cooked along with various seasonal vegetables tastes better and does not upset the stomachs.

A share in a cow is considered more economical, though the meat thus delivered has a messy mix. More people buy an animal from markets set up at faraway places. Haggling is a tedious business. The animals really become very expensive. People too want to show off their status by letting their prized animals parade the streets.

Some families offer many animals — one each for their parents, even after their demise. A late friend of mine would offer one for the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him) as well. Many display an entire herd outside their houses. But not everyone cares to feed the animals with fodder duly purchased. So the animals insist on entering Bagh Mian Ahmad Din which has a collection of indigenous trees, and ruthlessly pluck and break branches of mango and jaman.

If you happened to advise them to feed their animals halal fodder only, they lose their cool as if you had interfered with their religious beliefs or something.

Some bring their cows or bulls to be tied with the already shaken fences. The hapless canines can only bark from a permissible safe distance. Some vendors who sell fodder and various lintels at the peripheral roads don’t get much business. The owner of the large banner announcing veterinary services seem to be doing better, though some of the prized animals die from overeating and drinking too much water before being brought to the vets and quacks.

An even more serious hazard is the hiring of a butcher, from amongst the masons, carpenters and ordinary menial labourers, all posing to be one. As a result, skins get cut and damaged and bones broken and crushed in the wrong way.

On the Eid day, many people concentrate less on prayers and more on their beloved sheep lest it should go astray. The prayer leaders prolongs his address. As soon as he finishes, the congregation fans out to get hold of the butcher who generously slaughters one at a time and after retrieving some internal organs breaks the fast and rushes to meet other customers. Exhausted, he returns to skin a few more of them. Soon the sewage is tinged Alizarian crimson.

Of late, many selling poultry meat collect blood from slaughtered chicken to be sold for chicken feed. Instead of being put into the drains thereby chocking them, the nutrient-rich liquid can be collected for chicken feed as is done in some modern abattoirs. Whole localities stink due to the entrails thrown around.

The sheep stomachs, swollen because of the fermenting fodder inside them, are a sickening sight. In olden times, grandmothers would painstakingly clean the sheep’s stomachs to make a very nutritious and tasty dish.

While the animal is cut into desired pieces, the owner’s house help makes packets – big and small - to be distributed in the neighbourhood. Mouth-watering aroma soon emanates from the meat being cooked or grilled in the kitchens or in the open. The crows perched on the poles too keep a watchful eye.

Flocks of poor people go around asking for their legitimate share. The pelt or skin of the animal is, however, traditionally the house help’s share. She is grossly fleeced as she tries to sell it to a trader.

By the afternoon, all is quiet on the slaughter front. The few animals still heard bleating around are to be dealt with the following day when the butchers will be available. In fact, the animals are priced cheaper on the second day of sacrifice because taking the ‘merchandise’ back to the village ranches has its cost and the butchers would not offer a fair price. I remember buying a lamb from a stall put up by the Livestock Department at a fixed price. While we were on our way home, in a rickshaw, the poor animal that had been fed on salt rich fodder was intermittently passing out its half-digested food, spoiling and soiling our clothes and the seats. It was very generous and courteous of the driver who took it by way of sharing the honour of transporting an animal meant for sacrifice.

The aftermath of the Eid has various shades. While the quack vets pack up, quack doctors for us humans get a lot of business. Most patients arrive at their clinics with complaints of upset stomachs. Had they dished out a fair share to the poor, which is the spirit of sacrifice, they would not have fallen sick.

(This dispatch is dedicated to our late butcher, Majeed)

The writer is a painter, a founding member of Lahore Conservation Society and Punjab Artists Association, and a former director of NCA Art Gallery. He can be reached at ajazart@brain.net.pk