Every day, I witness something that nobody would ever want to see: blood and meat strewn everywhere in my city. During a Muslim festival called Bakrid, each Muslim family is expected to slaughter a male goat, and sometimes they buy one for every member of the family. After slaughtering the animals, they discard the waste on the roads. It usually takes the municipality four to five days to clean up the mess. There’s a show on Discovery Channel called *Dirty Jobs*, and while I’ve watched it occasionally, I can tell you that the tasks they feature are nothing compared to what our municipal workers endure.

For these four or five days, animal waste remains on the streets, and people generally avoid the Muslim neighborhoods during this period. I had witnessed this about ten years ago and was reluctant to return, but this year I decided to revisit it with Nadia, a researcher from Singapore. Initially, we planned to walk, but we soon opted for a rickshaw because the sight was overwhelming. Goat skins, meat, and other waste covered the streets, and I was astonished to see people standing around and conversing as if it were a normal part of their routine.

We rode through all the major Muslim neighborhoods in Varanasi, and everywhere we went, we saw the same scene: meat, goat skins, and blood. I even saw someone riding a camel through one of the neighborhoods. When I asked some locals, they informed me that the camel was going to be slaughtered as well. Wealthy individuals sometimes slaughter camels to display their affluence, and the number of camels slaughtered is reported in the news each year. I read that ten camels were slaughtered in Varanasi alone this year.

I’m unsure how to address this issue or whom to hold accountable, but it’s clear that maintaining sanitation is a shared responsibility. Disposing of animal waste on the streets is unsanitary, spreads disease, and is visually repulsive. There’s nothing worse than being surrounded by discarded meat. Nadia, who is also Muslim, was shocked by what she saw. In Singapore, such practices are completely hidden from view. People there contribute money to mosques for slaughtering, which is done discreetly.

Nadia remarked that this method in Singapore—paying for the slaughter to be done on one’s behalf—seems far superior to what we experience here. After witnessing the heaps of meat, she felt ill, and I couldn’t bring myself to eat that day. Nonetheless, it was an eye-opening experience for both of us. Despite the common belief that selling meat is prohibited in Varanasi, the reality is that meat is ubiquitous: in shops, kitchens, and sometimes even on the streets.