The Rotten Truth That Shook My Kashmiri Plate

The spoiled meat scandal is a crime against Kashmiri culture, faith, and memory. And sadly, it came from our own.

- Tabassum Haroon

Last year, I was home in Kashmir after months away. My younger son had been asking for goshtabas since the day we booked our tickets. We went to a restaurant with a reputation so solid, I didn't even think twice.

The copper bowl of yakhni arrived, steaming and fragrant. We ate like people who had been counting down the days for that moment.

By nightfall, my little one was doubled over in pain. For a week, he battled severe food poisoning. I told myself it couldn't be the restaurant. I blamed weather, airport sandwiches, and anything but Kashmiri food.

The idea that our own could harm us felt too unthinkable.

Now, after hearing the rotten meat scandal unfold in full detail, I find myself connecting the dots.

Perhaps the meat was stale, or it came from a dead animal. Maybe the chef knew and served it anyway. The thought fills me with disgust.

The pain runs deeper than a bad meal. Wazwan is not just a menu for us Kashmiris. It is a communal act, a cultural performance. It is how we celebrate weddings, welcome guests, and even mourn the dead. It is the rhythm of our festivals and the language of our love.

To serve it with rotten meat is to corrupt that language. It's like slipping poison into a prayer.

I left Kashmir in my teens, carrying my mother's caution like an invisible thread: Be careful what you eat.