A concerning trend is sweeping through society, one that could poison our social fabric. Eid shopping budgets are skyrocketing—five lakh taka spent, 25 Pakistani three-piece suits, 15 premium panjabis priced at 9,000 each, and still, shopping isn’t done! A woman in France sends money home, and suddenly, $36,000 taka goes toward four pairs of shoes. Monthly skincare expenses? $50,000. Why are we hearing about these stories more often? Because this year, people couldn’t shop in India for Eid!
Let’s get straight to the point. Keep your budget to yourself. Spend within your means. Take loans if you must, even risk bankruptcy—but you have no moral right to push society into an unhealthy spiral of materialism.
If someone has the means to allocate a billion for Eid shopping, so be it. The issue isn’t the spending—it’s the attitude. The arrogance that comes with wealth is toxic. How many families around you can afford an extra $200 to $500 for Eid shopping? Not many! The problem arises when people feel pressured to compete. Remember the absurdity of Motiur’s son and his infamous goat scandal? The media thrives on these stories, fueling a culture of comparison and envy rather than responsible journalism. And don’t get me started on YouTubers—they’re making things even worse!
Negativity spreads faster than positivity. When someone hears that their neighbor’s wife gets a $50,000 Eid gift, or their cousin’s children get $85,000 worth of Eid attire, frustration kicks in. They forget their own financial reality. Husbands get cold shoulders because they didn’t buy an expensive saree. Firefighters have to talk down an emotional Nargis, who refuses to come down from a rooftop because her Eid shopping didn’t meet expectations. Sounds ridiculous, right? But it’s happening.
Wives resent husbands over missing designer shoes. Kids demand motorcycles and the latest iPhones, questioning their fathers’ ability to provide. Jorina spirals into depression because she didn’t get her dream dress. Families turn into a circus. Who created this entitlement? Those who proudly flaunt their excessive spending on camera!
Think about private-sector employees, farmers, laborers—those who struggle to afford even basic Eid essentials. Meanwhile, the wealthy boast about their shopping sprees. If you can afford another pair of designer shoes, maybe consider buying one extra—not for yourself, but to give to someone in need. But no, that’s not what I’m suggesting. Instead, invest in some metaphorical shoes—shoes for your conscience. Maybe then, we can all walk a little more humbly.
Just because there’s a microphone in front of you and a camera in your face doesn’t mean you should say everything that comes to mind. If your Eid budget is $3,000—great! You are fortunate. But think about how your words impact others. Consider the socioeconomic realities of your country. Could your words lead someone to make reckless financial decisions? A little discretion can go a long way. Wealth doesn’t need to be flaunted—especially in a society where both the rich and the poor coexist.
Oversharing can do more harm than good. If your extravagance makes others feel inadequate, you bear responsibility for that pain. The law may not punish you, but public disdain will. Excess in anything is never good.
