Under clear skies, thousands gather for Bakrid prayers across Hyderabad
For many, the festival is about more than just rituals. Farzana Begum, a homemaker from Malakpet, said the day holds deep personal meaning. 'Id al-Adha is a time of gratitude, sacrifice and sharing. It's about remembering our faith, spending time with loved ones, and reaching out to those in need. The prayers, the food, the sense of community, it all comes together on this day,' she said.
Ayaan Khan, a 26-year-old graphic designer from Banjara Hills, shared a more contemporary view. 'For me, Bakrid is about the spirit behind the tradition, compassion, equality and giving back. It's less about rituals and more about reconnecting with values that matter, with family and friends around.'
Mohammed Qasim, a 54-year-old schoolteacher from Toli Chowki, reflected on how the nature of the celebration has changed over the years. 'Twenty years ago, Id celebrations were quieter, more personal. We'd go to the mosque, then sit down for a simple family meal. Now it's bigger, more food, more people, and everything's on social media. The essence is still there, but the atmosphere has changed.'
DCP South-West G. Chandra Mohan said the Bakrid prayers and rituals were conducted in a peaceful and orderly manner across the zone. 'All prayers were completed by 10.30 a.m. without any issues. Qurbani and other rituals are currently underway and are expected to conclude shortly. We anticipate that everything will be wrapped up by around 2 p.m.,' he said.
He added that the three major Idgahs in the zone; Hockey Ground, First Lancer and Langar Houz, witnessed sizeable gatherings, with each location drawing close to 6,000 people. 'We had adequate police deployment at each site to manage the crowd and ensure smooth conduct of the event. The turnout was disciplined and cooperative,' the officer said.
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Indian Express
01-08-2025
- Indian Express
‘If Idgah was the doorway, Do Bailon Ki Katha was the mirror': Remembering Premchand
On what would have been Munshi Premchand's 145th birthday, I find myself returning to a story that reshaped how I saw the world. If Idgah was the doorway into Premchand's world, Do Bailon Ki Katha was the mirror he held up to society. Hamid may have taught us love and sacrifice, but it was Heera and Moti, the two oxen in this short story, who stirred something deeper in me when I was all of 13. We often read stories with human protagonists, but this was different. It was not a tale of arrogant kings, powerful Gods, or even ordinary men. It was a story of two humble bullocks. Voiceless and speechless, these animals of burden, tirelessly toil in fields, yet Premchand lends them vivid personalities. I still remember reading that first page and feeling strangely emotional. The story has stayed with me. Heera and Moti dearly loved their master, Jhuri, and shared a remarkable camaraderie. Both were self-respecting, brave, and benevolent. Their owner treated them with affection. One day, however, they were sent to Jhuri's in-laws' house, where they were mistreated and forced to plough fields beyond their strength. Once free-spirited, they soon found themselves bound in suffering. Unable to bear the injustice, they revolted. They broke free, caused chaos, and ultimately ran away, only to be separated. Eventually, they were auctioned off to a butcher. Miraculously, they escaped from the slaughter house and made their way back to their rightful owner. The narrative that follows is layered with humour, sorrow, and empathy. The two are reunited, but not before we see the world through their wounds. What strikes me most, even today, is not only the animal friendship but how Premchand exposes human hypocrisy. The two oxen behave more honourably than the men around them. They do not speak, yet their protest is louder than any slogan. They refuse to become machines of greed. They walk away. And in that act lies the story of every worker, every underpaid laborer, every being resisting cruelty. It was the first story that made me question authority. Why should endurance be expected simply because someone is silent? Why should loyalty be a license for exploitation? Heera and Moti were not just bullocks. They were symbols. Their pain was real, and so was their choice to escape it. For a ninth-grade student, this story offered the first glimpse of quiet rebellion. In this seemingly simple tale, Premchand opens with a metaphor, of a donkey, often mocked and rarely understood. For him, the donkey represents tolerance. Regardless of what life offers, joy or sorrow, it remains unmoved, like a monk. In a world where emotions often scream louder than actions, Premchand praises the virtue of composure. Unfortunately, humans mistake this stillness for stupidity. Perhaps it is because we lack what the donkey possesses: patience and grace. Similarly, Heera and Moti were not mere animals in a field. They were friends, brothers, comrades. The story begins with them licking and nudging each other: small gestures of affection that speak to a bond stronger than any chain. Whether feeding from the same trough or pulling the same plough, they carried one another's burdens. Even during hardship, they never abandoned each other. Their trial arrives in the form of a violent bull. But this is not just a fight between animals. It is a metaphor for how all beings—human or otherwise—must stand together in moments of crisis. Heera fights to protect Moti, even when escape is possible. Later, when the wall of the slaughterhouse collapses and freedom is near, Moti does not run alone. He waits for Heera, who refuses to leave. Whether it is sharing food or enduring beatings, the bullocks consistently place each other first. That is not merely friendship. That is solidarity. Few human friendships reflect such depth of devotion. In those scenes, Premchand shows us that courage is not always about confrontation. Sometimes, it is about choosing to stay. Premchand does not stop at exploring the bond between animals. He extends it to the relationship between humans and animals. When Heera and Moti return to Jhuri after fleeing from their new owner, Gaya, he is deeply moved. His wife may see them as mere beasts, but for Jhuri, they are part of his family. For Heera and Moti, love outweighs comfort. Premchand reminds us that animals feel. They crave affection. They mourn. They remember kindness. 'Azadi sabko chahiye.' Freedom, Premchand insists, is not limited to humans. Heera and Moti flee not from impulse but from instinct. They recognise oppression. They seek dignity. Whether it is the British colonizing India or a cruel master exploiting animals, bondage must be challenged. And when the moment comes, it must be escaped. Freedom, Premchand suggests, is always worth the struggle. The symbolism in the story is subtle, but once perceived, it cannot be forgotten. Written during colonial rule, Do Bailon Ki Katha is not only about two bullocks. It is about India itself. Premchand channels national resistance through their rebellion. Just as Heera and Moti resist cruelty, so too were India's oppressed rising against imperialism. The story does not raise slogans, but it hums with the anger of a people awakening. Premchand did not write for the intellectual elite. He did not try to impress with language. He told stories the way elders do under the shade of a neem tree. Simple, measured and unforgettable Do Bailon Ki Katha exemplifies that storytelling. Reading it brought an odd kind of maturity. I began to see the world differently, not only the world of animals, but also the lives of laborers, domestic workers, rickshaw pullers, and farmers. The story was never didactic, but it made me uncomfortable in the best possible way. Even now, when I read about animal cruelty or bonded labor, I find myself returning to that chapter in Kshitij. The scene where Heera and Moti collapse from exhaustion, while others stand around laughing, feels eerily familiar. We are still those bystanders. And in that sense, Premchand remains as relevant as ever. What made Premchand timeless was not merely his choice of subjects, but the tenderness with which he wrote them. His stories were not meant to shock or preach. They drew you in gently, then turned the mirror toward you. The beauty of Do Bailon Ki Katha is that it is not simply a fable. It is a human drama told through non-human characters. And perhaps that is why it stings. Because in those two oxen, we begin to see ourselves. It is curious how we grow older, but some stories seem to grow with us. When I first read it, I saw pain. Years later, I saw resistance. Now, I see companionship. I read Do Bailon Ki Katha in school. But I suspect I will remember it in life. It was Premchand's way of reminding us that even the voiceless have choices. Even the beaten down can say no. In a world that continues to normalise injustice, perhaps the most radical act is to walk away. Maybe we all carry a little of Heera and Moti within us. Maybe we are still waiting to find the courage to break free. (As I See It is a space for bookish reflection, part personal essay and part love letter to the written word.)
Indian Express
11-07-2025
- Indian Express
‘Lost my favourite son…': In Surat, 65-year-old businessman grieves three family members who died in plane crash
Soon after real estate businessman Abdulla Nanabawa lost his son Akeel, 35, daughter-in-law Hanna, and granddaughter Sara in the June 12 plane crash, benches were placed outside his Surat home for mourners to sit on. A month later, one of the benches is still there, outside the 65-year-old's house in Rajwadi Mohalla in Surat's Rampura area. It is here that Nanabawa spends most of his time these days with a disposable bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes, and a flask containing hot tea being his constant companions. He goes inside his flat only during lunch and dinner, and sleeps for an hour – from 2 am to 3 am. Nanabawa still remembers the day of June 6, almost a week prior to the crash, when 'his favourite son' Akeel and his family, British citizens based in London, had come down to Surat to surprise him on Bakrid. Akeel ran a placement business in London while the family was based in Gloucester. 'When I reached our ancestral home, I saw Akeel recording a video on his mobile phone, accompanied by his wife and daughter. Tears rolled down my face, and I almost collapsed out of happiness. He told me that he had come down to Surat to celebrate Bakrid. This memory will remain etched in my life forever,' says Nanabawa. His friend Rashid Shaikh, 45, says Nanabawa's life has not been the same after the plane crash. 'Earlier, he used to smoke two packs of cigarettes, but now, he finishes five of them in a day. Before the air crash, he concentrated more on his business and was not seen much with his friends. Now, he spends most of his time in the mohalla, meeting people,' he adds. Shaikh says Nanabawa's friends and neighbours avoid discussing the Ahmedabad plane crash with him. 'We discuss various subjects and make him laugh, so that he returns to a normal state. He also gets irritated when we ask about his ongoing business and says: 'Money is not everything in life. What will I do with such money as I have lost my favourite son?'' Filled with nostalgia, Nanabawa narrates the story of his life — of how he got married to his cousin, a British citizen, when he was 23. They had four children: Ismail (40), Akeel, Hamza (32), and Abdul Rehman (30). The last one is visually impaired, he shares. 'I worked in various firms and earned a steady income to support my family. I owned a house worth crores, amassed wealth in London, and raised my children, providing them with a good education,' he tells The Indian Express. The couple separated and Nanabawa came back to settle down in Surat in 2011. He remarried and went on to have two sons with his second wife. Abdulla regularly visited London every two to three years to meet his sons and their children. He holds an Indian passport, unlike the rest of his family who are British. Fondly talking about Sara, 4, he says, 'She is the only girl child in my first wife's clan as well as my children's family.' Nanabawa would take Sara on rides on his motorbike to the market. He had dropped Akeel, Hanna, 31, and Sara at the Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport in Ahmedabad on June 12 and was returning to Surat when he got the news of the crash. He promptly returned and camped at the Civil Hospital for days, waiting to claim their bodies. On June 18, when Nanabawa was offering prayers after the burial rituals of Akeel and Hanna, he got a call that Sara's DNA had matched. He rushed to Ahmedabad to bring her remains to Surat where the three were buried. Sara was among the 13 children below 12 years of age whose DNA strains took a long time to extract. On the compensation offered by Air India and Tata Sons, he says, 'The money cannot bring my son back, what will I do with such money?' He further says, 'The Air India officials had contacted me and offered a compensation amount, but I refused it. When Ismail and Hamza were travelling to India from London to attend the burial, Air India officials at Heathrow Airport contacted them. They offered free air travel from London to India, as well as accommodation. They declined all the offers. We are not after the money. We want the truth to come out. My son Hamza has contacted a legal firm in London, and they are looking at legal options.'
India Gazette
23-06-2025
- India Gazette
'Our world is over': Relatives of Air India victims mourn their loss
From London to Ahmedabad, grief ripples across continents as the full toll of the tragedy comes into focus What began as a joyful Eid homecoming turned into an unimaginable tragedy for the Syed family in Malad, a suburb of Mumbai in Maharashtra's western region. Their son, Javed Ali Syed - an award-winning hotel manager based in the UK - had returned home with his wife, Mariam, and their two young children, six-year-old Amani and four-year-old Zayn, to celebrate Eid al-Adha, the annual Muslim festival that fell on June 7 this year. On June 12, the family of four boarded their flight back to London, carrying memories and promises of a future reunion. But fate had other plans. "I still can't believe my brother and his entire family are gone," said Syed Imtiaz Ali, Javed's younger brother, as he waited anxiously for the DNA identification process at Civil Hospital in Ahmedabad. "I still look at his messages, his photos... I can't accept that he's gone," Ali said, his voice heavy with grief. "I keep thinking he'll call, that he'll come back. We haven't even told our mother - she's a heart patient. She wouldn't be able to bear this loss." He added that he hasn't slept in days. It was Javed's wife, Mariam, who had booked Air India Flight 171 from Ahmedabad to London Gatwick. But the journey ended in catastrophe - the plane crashed just moments after takeoff, leaving only one survivor. Javed, Mariam, and their two young children were among the youngest victims of what is now counted as one of India's deadliest aviation tragedies. The tragedy of June 12 unfolded in mere seconds - a Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner burst into flames shortly after takeoff from Ahmedabad's Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport, crashing into a medical college in a densely populated residential area. Thick plumes of black smoke choked the sky for hours. A journey of celebration for many left the whole of India in mourning. "We didn't know this would be his last Eid," Javed's father said, his voice breaking. "All four of them were British citizens. We had no idea it would be the last time we saw them." He spoke of Javed's long struggle to build a life in the UK. "He worked so hard to get settled there. He had finally made it. He had promised to support everyone back home. He was happy about a promotion, and he wanted to buy a house for his mother, to take her to London. But our world has collapsed." "We are a lower-middle-class family. Javed was our hope. We can't come to terms with losing four members of our family. We just can't accept it." The family of Javed Ali from Mumbai, who was killed in the Air India crash in Ahmedabad on June 12. Only one person miraculously survived the London-bound Air India flight, walking away from the wreckage with impact injuries. Many have called it nothing short of a miracle. The rest, authorities said, were burned beyond recognition, their identities still being confirmed through DNA testing. At Ahmedabad's Civil Hospital, grieving families refuse to leave until they see what remains, no matter how devastating. "We want to see them one last time," said Imtiaz, adding that his eyes are locked on his phone, scrolling through photos of his niece and nephew - snapshots taken just before the family boarded the doomed flight. He shared a twist of fate that spared another member of the family. "My elder sister had planned to travel with them," he said. "But she couldn't get a ticket and had to take a different flight. She reached London - they didn't." India's federal government has launched a high-level inquiry into the crash, with the Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau (AAIB) leading the probe, supported by the Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) and international experts from the UK, US, and the aircraft's engine manufacturers. In response to growing safety concerns, the Civil Aviation Ministry has also ordered enhanced maintenance checks across Air India's entire Boeing 787 fleet. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, who visited the crash site and met with survivors in hospital, called the tragedy "heartbreaking beyond words." 'It was like a big blast' For residents living near the crash site, the sound was deafening. "It was like a massive blast, followed by thick black smoke billowing into the sky," said Nitin Sirkar, 45, who lives just ten minutes away from where the aircraft went down in Ahmedabad. "We couldn't understand what had happened." An official involved in the rescue operation told RT that fragments of the aircraft were scattered across the area, and the victims' bodies were charred beyond recognition. "The smoke from the wreckage didn't stop for hours," the official added. Four days on, authorities are still in the process of identifying victims through DNA testing - a painstaking task that has left grieving families in anguish. While officials say they are working around the clock, the sheer scale of destruction has made the process agonizingly slow. An Air India Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner crashes after takeoff from Ahmedabad airport en route to London, Meghani area, India, June 12, 2025. Saurabh Sirohiya/NurPhoto via Getty Images "The most haunting part was receiving fragments instead of whole bodies - it broke everyone," said a hospital worker, who spoke on condition of anonymity. According to him, medical staff have been working nonstop to expedite the DNA matching process so the remains can be handed over for the final rites. "The families are devastated and angry. Each day feels like a year to them," he said. "We understand their pain, but the damage is beyond comprehension. The bodies are burned, charred, and reduced to unrecognizable pieces." Building a life between two worlds - India and UK Dr Prateek Joshi was the only son of Mohan and Sunita Joshi from the northern state of Rajasthan. In his last selfie, Prakeet's family of five is sitting across from each other on the flight, wide smiles lighting up their faces, as if a long-awaited dream had finally taken flight. They didn't know it would be their last. According to his family, Dr Prateek Joshi had spent years building his life between two worlds - India, where his roots ran deep, and the UK, where a promising future awaited. The consultant radiologist had recently started working at Royal Derby Hospital and Queen's Hospital Burton. After over two years of working away from his family, he was finally bringing them over to begin a new chapter in the UK. On June 12, he boarded the Air India flight from Ahmedabad with his wife, Komi Vyas, a physiotherapist, and their three young children - daughter Miraya and twin sons, Pradyut and Nakul. "The family had been preparing for this moment for months. Komi had resigned from her job in India to join her husband, and the children were excited to settle into a new home in Leicester, where my son had already set up a life for them," relayed Mohan Joshi, father of Prateek, from his home in Banswara, Rajasthan. Joshi said that their world had ended in a single instant. "I had bought new school bags for my grandkids, and during the last night in India, they kept them close to themselves and said they would use them in London. I cannot forget their faces, their voice still rings in my ears. Prateek always spoke of reuniting and a bright future ahead. Now, that future has vanished," Mohan added, his voice shaking with grief. An Air India Boeing 787-8 Dreamliner crashes after takeoff from Ahmedabad airport, Meghani area, India, June 12, 2025. Saurabh Sirohiya/NurPhoto via Getty Images Prateek's mother is unable to hold on to the shock of losing her son and his whole family in the crash. "He worked so hard for a better future, only to end like this. Now, our lives and our home are empty without them and with the thought that they will never be back," Sunita Joshi said. The families have spent sleepless nights in the corridors of Ahmedabad's Civil Hospital - crying, waiting, hoping against hope to take their loved ones home, or what remains of them. The Air India flight had crashed into the residential quarters of BJ Medical College, setting off a firestorm that sent thick plumes of black smoke spiraling into the sky - a scene captured in haunting eyewitness videos. Among the victims was former Gujarat Chief Minister Vijay Rupani, whose death sent shockwaves through the state. Of the 242 people on board, the passenger list included two pilots and ten cabin crew. A total of 169 were Indian nationals, while 53 were citizens of the United Kingdom. India has faced several major air disasters. The worst was the 1996 Charkhi Dadri mid-air collision, which killed 349 people. In 1985, the bombing of Air India Flight 182 off Ireland killed 329. The 1978 Mumbai crash claimed 213 lives, and the 2020 Kozhikode crash killed 21. Most recently, the 2025 Ahmedabad Air India crash left 241 dead out of 242 on board, marking one of the deadliest in India's aviation history. Raveena Christian is mourning the loss of her son, Lawrence Christian, at their home in Ahmedabad. The 30-year-old, who worked in Britain, had returned to India just two weeks earlier to perform the last rites of his father. On June 12, he was on his way back - but never made it. Investigators at the crash site of an Air India Boeing 787 Dreamliner in Ahmedabad, India, June 13, 2025."Just 17 days ago , I lost my husband," Raveena said, her voice trembling. "My daughter is still studying, and Lawrence was the one holding our family together. He had taken a loan for our home... he was everything to us." She recalled frantically searching the hospital for signs of hope. "I kept wandering from ward to ward, thinking maybe - just maybe - he had survived." "We don't know how to go on without him," she said.
