The cruelty of sending a newly-lost son to the market the day after his bereavement to buy cows, goats, rice, pulses and goods is perhaps only possible for the Muslims of this subcontinent.
A barbaric custom of feeding kulkhani in one's name within three days of one's death is common among the Muslims of this subcontinent. There is no hadith-Qur'anic basis behind this. I have found on YouTube that a number of Maulanas have also taken a strong stand against this cult, discouraging such arrangements, and in some cases even calling for resistance.
Although it is impossible for me to say whether Kulkhani has any religious basis, my personal position against it is clear. The death of a person is undeniably an irreparable loss for his relatives. How a child spends a few days immediately after a miscarriage or a miscarriage, how the karbala of suffering bleeds from head to toe, how the electric current of pain touches the eyes, how numb the brain is, how embers of the body are embers, Only those whose parents have died know this.
Whose pain is only his?
After a tragedy, a child's swollen eyes become normal where one and a half to two weeks pass, where it takes at least a month to cure anorexia, an indefinite period of time where a picture of a raw grave remains in the eye; Calling and feeding thousands of people within seventy-two hours of death, making all the arrangements for feeding — is like an anti-social steam roller of social abuse on the children of the dead. The cruelty of sending a newly-lost son to the market the day after his bereavement to buy cows, goats, rice, pulses and goods is perhaps only possible for the Muslims of this subcontinent.
Who will be invited to the kulkhani, what will be fed, how much salt will be given to the dal, who will be placed where, who will chew and feed whom; The newly orphaned child has to listen to the traditional sentence even if he manages everything like this — the pieces of meat have become a little smaller, it would have been better to eat if the branch was a little thicker, the sugar has become more in return. In this way, some of the cunning, rude, unscrupulous people in the villages will find fault with the food of Kulkhani. There is no difference between marriage, circumcision and kulkhani with Akika. Like other events, Kulkhani is just a joyous occasion for them.
Some of the rural people are waiting for the death of the people. At the time of death there will be kulkhani, in kulkhani meat-mixed pulses can be eaten, after eating a sigh of satisfaction can be raised. Of the thousands of people who come to eat at Kulkhani, none of them mourn the death of the deceased; They are just hungry. Only those mourners, who did not have time to wipe their eyes after the loss of their father, had to go down to the tastes of the uninvited idiots who came to join the death procession.
Mourning party
There is also an unwritten competition among subcontinental Muslims over the ages as to who can feed thousands of people in Kulkhani. When the deceased was ill, no ticket was seen, no medical help was received, and no one was invited to the kulkhani. The children.
Not that anyone came to eat kulkhani for lack of rice; But the controversy over not being invited to the kulkhani has to continue year after year. I have heard that when a beggar dies in the countryside lately, five or seven hundred people are fed in his name. Nowadays the children of beggars also have the financial capacity to organize such a big event. Fourteen months ago, after my father was laid to rest in the grave, when the bamboo deck was laid on top, the bereaved mother sent for me and called me to hand over three pieces of soil - one from her own side, two pieces from my two sisters.
With three pieces I was walking towards the tomb of Janam, when my legs seemed heavier than the ancient rain tree, when the deep inside of Paran was silently burning to ashes; Then one of my aunts called from behind and said that it was the rule to inform the worshipers who came to the janaza about the date of kulkhani, or to inform the date of kulkhani immediately. In a fit of rage, I politely told my aunt that they should give me the time to bury three pieces of soil in the grave, but my aunt was still standing in my way. Not that my aunt wanted my misfortune; He wanted to benefit me by reminding me of the rules of the village.
Mother was hospitalized at the time of her father's death. We had to leave with his broken leg to Barguna, three hundred and thirty kilometers away from Dhaka. The heavy fog in mid-January and the violence of the Faridpur bandits were accompanied by an ambulance accident in Jhalokati. If the car carrying my father's body had not fallen into the canal and hit a tree, I would have had to carry five or seven more bodies that day.
Taking care of everything, I buried my father in my uncle's room in the afternoon when I fell asleep for a moment; Then I heard the muffled voice of the meeting of the cousins: If Azad doesn't eat, we will raise money and eat in the name of uncle! Then I could no longer sleep, I could not control the flame of my anger; At that moment, I was in a frenzy. I know: My cousins or aunts wanted to announce the kulkhani with me as soon as possible to protect my social dignity. Yet I attacked them. My father passed away fourteen months ago.
Although I kept the kulkhani for fourteen months, I could not do it till the end. Recently, my sisters have organized kulkhani in the village on a large scale. Thousands of people came and ate meat and pulses, chewing the bones of cows and finally covering their bones. But I don't know how many of those one thousand people have visited my father's grave.
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