As someone who is studying Bengal’s socio-political history, I am very much interested in the complex issue of the cow: A symbol of both devotion and division. For Bengali Muslims, the ritual sacrifice of cattle during Eid-ul-Adha (qurbani, the Islamic practice of animal sacrifice) is not only a religious practice but also an act of resistance against centuries of oppression -- from medieval to contemporary cow vigilante violence.
Historical roots of conflict
The politics of the cow in Bengal has deep historical roots, and trace back to the conquest of Sylhet in 1303–1304, led by the Sufi saint Shah Jalal. According to historical records, a Muslim man named Burhanuddin, living under the Hindu king Gour Govinda in Sylhet, sacrificed a cow to celebrate his son’s birth. A kite reportedly dropped a piece of the cow’s flesh onto a Brahmin’s house or, in some accounts, Gour Govinda’s temple, which the king took as a grave offense. In retribution, King of the time, Gour Govinda, ordered Burhanuddin’s hand amputated and his son killed.
Burhanuddin appealed to Sultan Shamsuddin Firoz Shah of the Bengal Sultanate, who dispatched Sikandar Khan Ghazi, accompanied by Shah Jalal and his disciples, to confront the king. Shah Jalal, renowned for his spiritual authority, is said to have crossed the Surma River and defeated Gour Govinda, who fled as his palace collapsed during the Muslim call to prayer. This conquest brought Sylhet under Muslim control, marking an early instance of resistance against religious oppression linked to cow slaughter (Banglapedia 2021; Wikipedia 2025c).
This historical incident set a precedent for later conflicts over qurbani, framing it as both a religious right and a symbol of defiance.
The cow protection movement gained prominence centuries later, during the late 19th century, shaped by colonial policies by the British government and Hindu revivalism. The British, through the Bengal Tenancy Act of 1885, empowered Hindu zamindars to control vast estates, often populated by Muslim tenants. Influenced by groups like the Gaurakshini Sabha, zamindars imposed bans on cow slaughter, undermining qurbani during Eid-ul-Adha (Banerjee 2024). For Muslim tenants, this was not only a religious restriction but also an economic and existential threat, as many faced eviction for defying agreements to abstain from slaughter (Jones 2007). The British, while claiming neutrality, often supported Hindu elites to prevent unified Hindu–Muslim resistance against colonial rule, deepening Muslim marginalization (Gupta 2007).
Communal tensions
By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the cow became a flashpoint for violence. In 1893, riots in Mau (Uttar Pradesh) erupted when Hindus accused Muslims of violating alleged “Akbar-era traditions” by slaughtering cows (Wikipedia 2025a).
In 1946, rumors in Bengal that Hindus were hiding Sikhs to prevent Eid sacrifices triggered weeks of bloodshed (The Daily Star 2022). These conflicts were not spontaneous but the result of systemic marginalization.
Muslim resistance took diverse forms.
Communities defied zamindari bans by increasing public sacrifices or boycotting Hindu festivals like Kali Puja (Banerjee 2024). Leaders like Khalilur Rahman mobilized Muslims through sermons, urging them to leave Hindu households that restricted their practices (Gupta 2007). Meanwhile, intellectuals like Mir Musharraf Hossain, in his 1889 novel Go-Jiban, advocated Hindu–Muslim unity by opposing cow slaughter, though his plea “do not be cruel to beneficial animals” -- this drew criticism from both communities (Banerjee 2024).
The colonial press exacerbated tensions, portraying Muslims as provocatively herding cows to slaughter, reinforcing stereotypes of Muslims as “beef-eating aggressors” (Jones 2007).
Post-Colonial challenges
After Partition, West Bengal’s 1950 Animal Slaughter Control Act permitted religious exemptions for cow slaughter, but a 1995 Supreme Court ruling criminalized the practice during Eid, prioritizing Hindu sentiments over minority rights (Kadyan 2010). This decision, framed as protecting “agricultural wealth,” sparked widespread Muslim discontent (Kadyan 2010).
The rise of Hindutva ideology in the 21st century intensified cow-related violence. Groups like the Bajrang Dal and Vishva Hindu Parishad targeted suspected cattle traders -- primarily Muslims and Dalits -- through vigilante patrols (Human Rights Watch 2019). Between 2010 and 2017, cow-related violence claimed 28 lives, 24 of them Muslims (Wikipedia 2025b). In 2023, Hindu Mahasabha activists in Agra allegedly killed a cow to frame Muslims, highlighting the movement’s cynicism (Wikipedia 2025b).
In West Bengal, despite its history of Left-leaning governance, tensions persist. In 2025, social media rumors of “streets flooded with blood” during Eid in Kolkata were debunked, yet BJP leaders like Suvendu Adhikari exploited these narratives to fuel polarization (DW 2024).
Empathy and reflection
My engagement with this topic, though rooted in textual study, is driven by empathy for communities navigating these tensions. I imagine the fears of a Muslim family in Kolkata during Eid, wary of accusations or violence. I contrast this with the dignity of Bangladeshi communities performing qurbani without fear, prompting reflection on the conditions that enable pluralism. Empathy in academic writing involves connecting emotionally with others’ experiences, even through historical records (Banerjee 2024).
Bangladesh: A model of tolerance
In contrast to West Bengal, Bangladesh embraces qurbani as a communal celebration. The absence of cow vigilantism stems from a cultural and policy framework prioritizing religious pluralism. After India restricted cattle exports in 2014, Bangladesh’s local markets thrived, with Comilla reporting a surplus of 23,000 sacrificial animals in 2025 (The Daily Star 2025). This tolerance reflects a social contract where Hindus respect Muslim practices, offering a model for coexistence.
The politics of the cow in Bengal reveals a struggle for religious freedom, economic justice, and minority rights. From Shah Jalal’s conquest of Sylhet to modern advocacy, Bengali Muslims’ resistance has preserved space for religious pluralism. As India grapples with rising polarization, Bengal’s history serves as both a warning and a beacon of hope. By fostering empathy and mutual respect, we can move toward a future where religious symbols unite rather than divide.
Tahmid Islam is a writer, political activist, and the host of Bangladesh and Beyond Podcast.
