United News of Bangladesh

With the blessed Eid-ul-Azha approaching, the rhythm of hammers on steel should be echoing through Dhaka’s blacksmith lanes like a festive drumbeat, but this year, that symphony is curiously subdued. In Karwan Bazar’s age-old alleys, where iron and fire are forged into tradition, blades of every kind sit poised—ready for the season's sacred rituals. Knives, cleavers, axes and the famed round tamarind chopping blocks known as khaitta lie in neat rows under the open sky and tin roofs. Forging Faith: Jashore’s blacksmiths toil tirelessly ahead of Eid-ul-Azha Their sharp edges glint in the morning sun, their handles polished, their weight balanced. And yet, they are met not with eager hands, but with the still air of waiting. At Zerin Hardware, owner Md. Jewel gestures to his displays, a craftsman’s pride gleaming in his eyes. “We’ve got everything ready,” he says, standing amidst an arsenal of blades. The small to medium knives are modestly priced, between Tk 150 and Tk 600. The locally made cleavers, known as chapati, sell by the kilo—Tk 800 per kilogram. A traditional axe fetches Tk 1,000, while Chinese models are slightly lighter on the wallet, priced between Tk 700 and Tk 800. Just beside, sparks fly as heated metal meets anvil. The sound should draw a crowd—but it doesn’t. The same quiet unfolds miles away in Bhola Sadar, where blacksmiths still hammer each blade by hand, each strike a testament to muscle and memory. Muhim, a blacksmith whose arms bear the marks of his trade, leans over his workbench. “We have all types of tools for cutting meat,” he says. His voice carries the weight of tradition. On the subject of imported tools, he is firm: “Local steel tools are best for cutting meat. Chinese tools may be fine for fruit, but they’re not ideal for meat.” In his shop, the gleam of newly sharpened blades speaks for itself. Steel tools are sold by weight—Tk 800 per kilogram—a price that reflects both skill and steel. A few stalls down, the scent of freshly carved tamarind wood lingers in the air. Here, the khaitta blocks rest like old companions, their rough textures echoing decades of tradition. Seller Md. Shamim names his prices without fanfare—Tk 300 for small, Tk 400 for medium, and Tk 500 for large blocks. Each one waits for a buyer, just as it waits to cradle the sacrifice. And still, the market breathes quietly. The usual buzz of pre-Eid-ul-Azha excitement seems to have softened. Blades remain unsold, blocks unmoved, and blacksmiths wary. They have prepared for the season, just as they always do. Fire and forge, steel and sweat—all ready for hands that are yet to come.  

In the heart of Jashore’s Sharsha upazila, a symphony of hammers plays out across Navaron Rail Market amid the heat and haze of coal-fired forges. As Eid-ul-Azha looms on the horizon, the blacksmiths of this once-sleepy marketplace have entered their busiest season, an annual crucible of fire, faith and sheer physical endurance. Here, where iron meets flame and tradition melds with necessity, the artisans labour ceaselessly to craft the indispensable tools of Qurbani, the sacred ritual of animal sacrifice. Knives, machetes, choppers, and cleavers, each meticulously shaped by hand, gleam like polished silver under the dim glow of furnace light. The market is alive with an intensity found nowhere else in the calendar year. The clatter of steel on steel rings through narrow alleyways, echoing the devotion etched into every blacksmith’s soot-streaked brow. Inside smoke-filled workshops, orange embers flicker like fireflies in the gloom, casting light on the sinewy figures hunched over anvils. Exhaustion hangs thick in the air, yet the craftsmen work with unwavering resolve. From the first blush of dawn to well past midnight, the rhythm never breaks. Eid brings with it not just spiritual fulfilment, but also the hope of a financial reprieve for these hardworking souls. “We wait all year for this season,” says Robiul Islam, president of the Navaron Rail Market Blacksmith Association. “But it’s not as profitable as it once was. Prices for iron and coal have soared, but we dare not raise the rates for our customers. People are already struggling.” DMP Commissioner's strict directives for Eid-ul-Azha haat operations A large-quality sacrificial knife, he shares, now costs between Tk 500 and Tk 600. Smaller blades fetch Tk 150 to Tk 200, with larger machetes and choppers priced at Tk 400 to Tk 500 and Tk 300 to Tk 400 respectively. Despite the labour involved, margins remain slim. And then, there is the shadow of industrialisation. Mass-produced tools, mostly imported from China, are flooding the local market—sleek, cheap, and mechanically precise. “People often bring us their old blades to sharpen rather than buy new ones,” Robiul laments. “They trust our work, but the economics don’t favour us anymore.” Still, rows of freshly forged tools shimmer at storefronts, their gleaming edges a testament to artistry that no machine can replicate. Inside, shirtless workers—faces streaked with sweat and soot—pump bellows, strike iron, and shape steel, their muscles moving almost by memory. “This is our busiest time of year,” says one blacksmith, wiping sweat from his brow, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. “We are tired beyond words. But this is our duty—our service to the community. People need our tools for Qurbani. We cannot let them down.” Dhaka's cattle markets take shape as Eid-ul-Azha nears With each clang of metal, each spark that leaps into the night, the blacksmiths reaffirm a legacy steeped in resilience and quiet pride. As Eid-ul-Azha draws nearer, their tireless toil underlines a timeless truth: that in the fire of hardship, tradition is forged anew.