The region of Jammu and Kashmir, with its predominantly Muslim population, presents a compelling context for re-evaluating the scale and method of Qurbani. Historically, Eid ul-Adha in Kashmir was marked by simplicity, devotion, and a quiet dignity. The day would begin with bathing, wearing new or washed clothes, proceeding to Eidgahs for Eid prayers, followed by heartfelt greetings exchanged in neighborhoods and relations where spiritual fulfillment mattered more than material display. Only a few affluent families could afford to offer animal sacrifices, and for many, the arrival of meat—often just a small portion shared by a generous neighbor—was a cherished blessing. In most households, mutton was a rare luxury— affordable only on special occasions like Eid, weddings, or gahe ba gahe (occasionally).
Today, the landscape has changed. In many homes, meat is now a regular part of the diet—weekly, even daily among the affluent. The excitement that once surrounded a wedding feast has faded; few now feel the same urge to join a barat for the meal that once caused disputes among eager relatives. As prosperity grows, so must our awareness of those still left behind.
In light of changing social and economic realities, and with humility as a social activist and an ardent follower of our great jurisprudential legacy, I respectfully propose the consideration of one-animal-per-household model for Qurbani. This approach—permissible in all major Islamic schools except Hanafi—offers a theologically sound and compassionate alternative that aligns with the spirit of sacrifice while responding to the ethical and practical challenges of our time.
With rising prosperity, an increasing number of family members now meet the nisab threshold, resulting in a surge of Qurbani offerings in urban centers like Srinagar—often far exceeding what is necessary or manageable. Many households, particularly those of newly married couples or small families, find it difficult to consume or store the large quantities of meat received from multiple relatives besides neighbors. Of late a growing trend has emerged of purchasing deep freezers mainly to store surplus Qurbani meat. In this situation, adopting a more measured, thoughtful approach can help preserve the sanctity of the practice while addressing the genuine needs of our changing society.
During the devastating 2014 floods, civil society sought a fatwa on suspending Qurbani to redirect funds for urgent relief. While full suspension was denied, Hanafi and other scholars agreed on limiting Qurbani to one small animal per household—or sharing a large one among seven families—with the savings aiding flood victims. This rare example of ijtihad showed compassionate, clear Islamic guidance responding to urgent community needs.
Later, during the COVID-19 pandemic, Hyderabad’s Jamia Nizamia issued a temporary fatwa allowing Muslims to skip Qurbani and donate the equivalent to the poor—an interpretation not agreed upon by other seminaries like Deoband but one that sparked important reflection on the ritual’s essence in crisis.
These moments reflect a growing recognition that when life, dignity, and survival are at stake, Islamic law possesses the flexibility to adapt while preserving its core principles. This adaptability is not without precedent in Kashmir. During the 1990s era of mysterious disappearances—when countless families were left in agonizing uncertainty—ulema from diverse sects united in a rare show of solidarity. Responding to civil society and the plight of the “half-widows,” they drew from Maliki and Jafari jurisprudence, permitting remarriage after just four years of confirmed absence instead of the Hanafi mandate of ninety years. This landmark consensus exemplified Islam’s deep compassion and its moral capacity to respond boldly to human suffering.
In a world where countless Muslims—especially children—suffer from hunger, illness, displacement, and the trauma of war, it is vital to ask how our rituals can more truly reflect the mercy at the heart of Islam. Even within our own region, poverty and neglect remain widespread. Redirecting just a portion of Qurbani spending could bring vital relief to the downtrodden—providing food, medicine, clean water, education, and shelter to those in urgent need. In times of crisis, faith must lead with compassion and conscience.
This is not a call to abandon the offering, but a reminder to align it with its deeper ethical and spiritual purpose: a sincere act of devotion to Allah SWT and a means of uplifting those most in need. Embracing the one-animal-per-household model is not a break from tradition, but a thoughtful reconciliation within Islamic jurisprudence—permissible in all major schools except the Hanafi. Islamic law has both the moral and legal capacity to respond compassionately to changing realities, and it is through the wisdom and courage of our Muftis and Ulema that such responses become possible—just as they did during the plight of Kashmir’s ‘half-widows,’ when juristic flexibility has offered relief in the face of prolonged suffering.
It is time for these esteemed Muftis, distinguished jurists and Islamic scholars of Jammu and Kashmir—respected and followed across Jammu and Kashmir—to come together once again. Drawing from previous examples of consensus, they can issue unified guidance encouraging one-animal-per-family model for Qurbani, with emphasis on charity and outreach for the rest.
This move would not weaken the ritual—it would restore its true essence. It would show that our sacrifice is not in the number of animals slaughtered, but in the willingness to let go of excess for the greater good.
Eid ul-Adha is not a festival of meat—it is an occasion of meaning. It calls us to remember the sincerity of Prophet Ibrahim (AS), the submission of Isma’il (AS), and the mercy of Allah SWT Who accepted intention over sacrifice. Let us honor this legacy not by increasing numbers, but by deepening our compassion. Let our sacrifices extend to action, generosity, and solidarity with those who are deprived. Let it mark a shift—from scale to sincerity, from celebration to responsibility, and from habit to heartfelt sacrifice.
May Allah (SWT) accept our Qurbani, our intentions, and our efforts to uplift those in need. Ameen!
Syed Shakeel Qalander is a social activist and an industry leader
