In our village, there was a butcher named Bostu. He also worked as a watchman. When a child was born, he would take their name, paternity, and date of birth to register at the union council. Every landlord paid a tax, which we called “tozi,” and along with it, four annas as the watchman’s fee, which went to Bostu.
Occasionally, he would buy an old, sick bull, cow, buffalo, or a weak calf that produced less milk, for a low price, slaughter it, and distribute packets of one kilo or half a kilo of meat wrapped in newspaper to all the landlords’ homes.
He would give one kilo to large families and half a kilo to small families, saying, “It’s eight annas per kilo, and I’ll collect the money on the first date of the month.” On those days, we were very happy because we knew meat curry would be cooked. We called meat “salna.”
Our late mother would cook in a large clay pot on a clay stove with firewood. She would grind spices like salt, pepper, and turmeric in a grinder and cook them with homemade ghee.
We also had a clay tandoor at home. The firewood was from our home, and she would heat the tandoor to bake bread. We siblings would enjoy the meat curry with great pleasure. Even if we got a piece of the old animal’s meat, we would chew it well because it didn’t tenderize easily.
Our late father used to say, “Chew it well; it will exercise your teeth.” That’s why, even at 76, his teeth were still strong. In comparison, the calf’s meat would tenderize quickly and tasted very good.
After skinning the calf, the landlords would stuff its hide with straw and sew it up so the buffalo would continue to give milk, thinking it was her calf.
We called it “Mora.”
In 1955, on Eid al-Adha, one of our elders, our grandfather’s brother, offered his old cow for sacrifice, and the entire community contributed to it. There were seven shares. At that time, calculations weren’t in hundreds but in twenties. The cow’s price was 120 rupees, so each share cost 20 rupees. Everyone gave twenty rupees each, seven rupees were given to Bostu for slaughtering, and the rest was given to the mosque’s imam and servant.
We bathed in the mosque as there was no bathroom at home. Bostu skillfully prepared the meat using a cleaver and axe. Besides the seven rupees, he was also given the cow’s offal and head. He skillfully removed the brain and gave it to our elders, taking the rest with him, saying it was very nutritious.
Everyone would have lunch together with the brain since it cooked quickly, while the meat took longer to tenderize. The liver, kidneys, heart, and other parts were also added.
We were poor but united. There was no arrogance, and it was a wonderful time.
Written by Raja Qadeer.
