This eid, I saw the sad mirror of Kashmiri society

By: Saima Firdous

This Eid changed me. It shook something inside.

I returned to Kashmir after five years. The last time I left, I was a schoolgirl. This time, I came back with a degree in economics, and with new eyes.

I had always imagined Eid back home would be magical: long hugs, warm food and beautiful prayers. But something about this Eid wasn’t peaceful. It felt loud. Performative. And, beneath the surface, full of contradictions.

As part of a small research project, I asked people around me a simple question: How do you manage your finances?
I met family friends, mohalla elders, business owners, educationists and even a couple of religious leaders in our colony. Their answers shocked me.

Every single one of them, except one, admitted they relied entirely on interest-based banking.

They take home loans. Business loans. Car loans. Education loans. Fixed deposits. Credit cards.
They earn interest. They live off it. They don’t even try to hide it.

One man said, “It’s the only way today.”

Another said, “Riba? Tell me what is the alternative?”

And yet these same people are deeply religious in public.
They judge others. They scold girls for dressing “wrong.” They moral-police weddings.
They never miss Jummah or an Eid Takbeer, and some even lead the prayer.

But they are at peace with building their lives on what the Qur’an calls a war with Allah.

Let that sink in.

“O you who believe! Fear Allah and give up what remains of riba, if you are indeed believers. If you do not, then be informed of a war from Allah and His Messenger.” (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:278-279)

This is not a minor sin.

In his Final Sermon (Khutbat al-Wada’), delivered during the Farewell Pilgrimage on the 9th of Dhul-Hijjah, 10 AH (632 CE) at Mount Arafat, Prophet Muhammad (SAW) made a powerful declaration about interest/usury: “All forms of riba are abolished. You shall neither give nor take any interest. Allah has decreed that there shall be no riba, and the first riba I abolish is that of my uncle, Al-‘Abbas ibn ‘Abd al-Muttalib.”

And yet, it is everywhere in Kashmir. It is normalized.
People boast about new homes and cars, forgetting they are financed on interest.
Loan money is misused. Debts are piling up. Some families are trapped. And no one is talking about it.

Except we talk a lot about Eid-ul-Azha.

We spend lakhs on animals. We post photos. We compete over the size of the sheep.
We claim it is for Allah.

But the Qur’an is clear: “It is neither their meat nor their blood that reaches Allah, but it is your piety (taqwa).” (Surah Al-Hajj 22:37)

This Eid isn’t about animals, as I see it, it is about the soul.
It is about sacrificing what you love most. For the sake of Allah.

But who is willing to sacrifice interest-based comfort?
Who is willing to say: “No, I won’t take this easy loan, even if everyone else is doing it”?
That would be real sacrifice.

Kashmir needs a moment of collective introspection.
We have made religiosity an outer garment. Inside, it is crumbling.

I say this as a Kashmiri woman who loves her people, her land and her faith. But love means honesty. And honesty demands that we stop hiding behind rituals and face our contradictions.

This Eid, I wish we hadn’t just  sacrificed animals. Let us slaughter our pride, our hypocrisy and our addiction to ease.

I pray we are, some day, able to  bring back the real meaning of sacrifice.