Traffic constable Muhammad Yousuf likes his mutton very much. But during Eid, he gets more than he can stomach.
"They create problems," he says, standing on Residency Road near Lal Chowk in Srinagar, which is where he generally is during duty hours. "Particularly, during peak hours."
Being a good Kashmiri, Yousuf understands the vital relation between Eid and quality mutton. So he is willing to forgive the thousands of sheep that descend on the state capital at this time of the year and fill up its roads.
"Where will the poor things go?" he says. "They have to be taken around to be sold."
Across the city, Yousuf's brothers in the blue uniform also turn a blind eye to the invaders. Besides their natural fondness for all the finer things that accompany Eid, they have orders from above: Let the sheep be.
And so, the wooly well-fed fellows -- you have to be one healthy beast to be accepted as Eid kurbani [sacrifice] -- make their way through Exhibition Road, Jehangir Chowk, Fatekadal, Idgah and scores of footpaths across the city with their masters holding long sticks.
Yousuf has to contend with only a miniscule population of the four-legged tourists. According to Director of Animal Husbandry Dr M Q Qureshi, about 50,000 of them buy one-way tickets to Srinagar in the run-up to Eid.
"This is in addition to the 5,000-odd sheep slaughtered daily in Srinagar," he says. "If you were to look at the entire Kashmir valley, more than 200,000 are sacrificed every Eid."
The number could be more, the director says, as butchers are known to show a three-fold increase in sales -- the poor, who cannot afford a kurbani on their own, get together and purchase mutton along with neighbours and relatives, as the festival demands.
So where do the sheep come from?
A good percentage is indigenous, raised on Kashmir's hills by gujjars [shepherds], who bring them down for roadside sales.
As mutton is expensive (Rs 110 per kilo; Rs 4,000 per sheep on an average), and you have at least 30 sheep in a flock, there are millions of rupees roaming the streets of Srinagar during Eid.
In keeping with this logic, the gujjars are believed to be rich fellows, who walk around with more money under their dirty pherans [overcoats], ill-kempt beards and beggarly appearance than what many bankers have seen at one go.
Ghulam Mohammad, whom we cornered on an empty road far from Yousuf, is from Kandajam, near the Yousmarg hills in Budgam district. Though not a gujjar, he arrives in Srinagar every alternate year with sheep bought from fellow villagers.
This year, he has invested Rs 100,000-plus on 40 sheep and hopes to go back home after Eid with around Rs 200,000 under his pheran. Yes, he is scared about the money, but
Dr Qureshi says Jammu and Kashmir's 3.3 million sheep population is not enough to keep its people well-fed. Every year 2.5 million are consumed, of which 50 per cent are not state subjects but from Haryana, Rajasthan etc.
Naturally, the past week has witnessed increased traffic of sheep-bearing trucks into the valley. But this Eid, some Kashmiris say, will see lesser kurbanis.
Protracted militancy has affected cash flow, they say. Plus, the new government's drive against illegal structures has forced many to divert their Eid funds for construction work.
"You should have come four-five years ago, sir," Yousuf says. "There used to be lines and lines of sheep on this road -- and huge traffic jams."
