“So, we did nothing wrong. Why has the cow changed like this?” Kaban’s wife responded.
“The way you selected and kept the best meat for yourselves meant that what you gave to the rightful recipients were just scraps. Mere leftovers.”
Kaban and his wife continued to hold hands but now hung their heads in shame, unable to look at the cow before them.
“Imagine the poor and needy near your home, who rarely get nutritious food because they can’t afford the best meat, looking forward to the Feast of Sacrifice, only to receive scraps. They are left to boil or roast bones with little meat or chew on tough, fatty scraps. The elderly poor wouldn’t dare chew such tough meat. If the sacrifice is for your own enjoyment, what’s the point?”
Kaban and his wife remained silent, their bodies trembling. The cow stood motionless, like a statue.
“Go on, ride your sacrificial animal,” the angel commanded, breaking the silence.
“With legs so frail, without eyes and a head, can this cow really take us to paradise?” Kaban asked, pointing at the cow with a trembling hand.
***
Kaban’s dream always ended there. The same question always closed his dream. What he longed for was the angel’s answer to his question. Kaban needed certainty, so the dream wouldn’t continue to haunt him.
“I’m scared to sleep now, fearing that dream will return without an answer,” Kaban told his wife as they lay in bed.