Sharp drop in sacrificial animal skin prices hits mosques, madrasas, and the poor. Muslim institutions in Uttar Pradesh report budget shortfalls as buffalo skins go unsold and goat hides fetch just ₹22
NEW DELHI – The sacred festival of Eid-Al-Azha, widely known as Bakrid, was celebrated with devotion across India on 7 June. In cities and villages alike, large gatherings of Muslims offered prayers at mosques and Eidgahs and followed the Sunnah of Prophet Ibrahim by performing Qurbani—the sacrifice of halal animals such as goats, sheep, buffaloes, and camels.
While the religious spirit remained strong, and thousands of poor families were fed through the act of sacrifice, there is growing concern among Muslims in Uttar Pradesh and beyond over the sudden and sharp decline in the value of animal skins—an issue with wide-ranging financial consequences for madrasas and mosques.
The three-day Eid, which ended on 9 June, usually provides not only spiritual fulfilment but also financial support to institutions that serve poor communities. Traditionally, Muslims donate the skins of sacrificed animals to mosques, madrasas, and other community organisations. These institutions sell the skins and use the income for salaries, utility bills, and support for orphans and students.
But this year, the scene has changed dramatically.
“There were no buyers for buffalo skin,” said Maulana Rashid, a madrasa principal in Gorakhpur. “We had no choice but to bury them. Earlier, one buffalo skin would sell for ₹1,000 to ₹1,500. This year, no one even offered ₹50.”
Goat skins, which earlier fetched up to ₹250 each, were sold this year for only ₹20 to ₹22. Many traders showed no interest at all.
“Whoever came to collect skins this year offered such low prices that we wondered whether it was even worth the trouble,” said Abdul Sattar, who volunteers with a mosque in Basti. “Our team worked for days to collect skins, but the money we received is not even enough to cover transport costs.”
For many small and mid-sized madrasas, sacrificial animal skins are not just by-products—they are lifelines.
According to a report published in the Urdu daily Inquilab, an average madrasa in Uttar Pradesh relies on the income from Bakrid skins to cover three to four months of operational costs. The decline in prices has left many of them struggling to stay afloat.
“This time, the income from skins doesn’t even equal one month’s salary for a single teacher,” said the head of a madrasa in eastern Uttar Pradesh, requesting anonymity due to fears of government pressure. “Our teachers and cooks haven’t been paid for weeks.”
He added, “It’s not just about numbers—it’s about survival. Poor children study here. We give them shelter and food. How will we manage without this income?”
Some Muslim scholars and social workers have begun to question whether this economic squeeze is purely market-driven, or if there is a bigger picture.
“There seems to be a pattern,” said Mohammad Asim, a community activist in Lucknow. “First, cow slaughter is banned. Then there are restrictions on where and how Qurbani can be performed. Now skins have no buyers. It feels like everything connected to our faith is being slowly targeted.”
He added, “Nobody is banning the Qurbani directly. But they are making it financially unsustainable. This is silent oppression.”
Several madrasas in Bareilly, Azamgarh, and Faizabad have reported that leather traders who used to visit every Bakrid did not show up this year. Calls were unanswered, and offers—if any—were below the cost of labour.
“We feel helpless,” said a staff member of a madrasa in Azamgarh. “Sacrifices were performed as always, but what to do with the skins? We had to burn some, and others were thrown away. It’s heartbreaking.”
The fall in prices is attributed by some to changes in the leather industry, high taxes, export restrictions, and reduced demand from tanneries. But Muslims working in the trade say the situation has been made worse by the attitude of the authorities.
“Why are buffalo skins suddenly worthless?” asked Mohd Anwar, a skin trader in Kanpur. “Last year, I sold goat skins at ₹70 each. This year I was offered ₹18. If the government can regulate petrol and onion prices, why can’t it help madrasas that support thousands of poor children?”
He continued, “It seems that anything connected to Muslims—our institutions, our festivals, our economy—is being weakened deliberately.”
During Bakrid, the main idea behind Qurbani is not just ritual, but also the distribution of meat to the poor. Across India, poor families were fed with love and dignity, as per Islamic teachings. But behind the scenes, the institutions that work to uplift these very communities are suffering.
“People don’t realise how dependent we are on this one source of income,” said Maulana Farooq of a madrasa in Barabanki. “Electricity bills, food for orphan children, salaries for teachers—all were managed through skin sales. Now we are left with nothing.”
He added: “The government gives millions to private schools and corporate colleges. But madrasas that serve the poorest Muslims get no help. And now even our skin money is gone.”
Before Bakrid, mosque and madrasa committees across Uttar Pradesh formed teams to collect skins. Announcements were made from mosques, banners were hung, and people were urged to donate. But the result was disappointing.
“We made every effort,” said Hafiz Junaid of a madrasa in Sitapur. “Our students collected skins from morning to evening. But what did we get in return? Buyers offering ₹15 or ₹20, or saying they’d collect the skins ‘later’—but never came.”
When contacted, a few skin traders said the market had slowed due to export problems, reduced demand from Chinese and European buyers, and a rise in synthetic leather alternatives. But many in the Muslim community believe the issue is being deliberately ignored.
For many Muslims in Uttar Pradesh, the festival ended with mixed feelings. While spiritual joy remained, there was also sorrow, frustration, and a deep sense of being pushed to the margins.
“Earlier, Bakrid was a festival of unity and sharing,” said Nazma Bano, a housewife in Lucknow. “Now it feels like our rituals are being watched, questioned, and slowly crushed. Even our Qurbani is being made into a burden.”
She added, “Nobody minds if other communities celebrate with pomp. But when we do something—even if it feeds the poor—we are seen as a threat.”
Community leaders have called for immediate steps to support madrasas and mosques that are struggling due to the fall in skin sales. Some have urged state governments to provide alternative funding or at least ensure fair market access.
“This is not just about religion,” said Prof Khalid Ansari, a retired academic from Aligarh. “It’s about survival. Madrasas teach children, care for orphans, and run on donations. If you destroy their sources of income, you are killing social services.”
As Bakrid ends, Indian Muslims are left asking painful questions. Why has something so central to their faith been turned into a financial loss? And why is nobody listening?
“We don’t want luxury. We just want fairness,” said Maulana Hamid from a madrasa in Bahraich. “Let us pray, let us teach, and let us serve our people with dignity.”
