Adam Sayid
Most Bangladeshi Muslims I know are familiar with the Shirni tradition where some sweet food is offered in gratitude to God after a prayer is answered, a votive is fulfilled or a special occasion observed. The word comes from Persian, meaning “sweet,” and over time it became a widespread tradition within South Asian Muslim communities. Halwa, firni, rice pudding or mitai are prepared and shared with relatives, neighbours and the poor as an expression of thankfulness.
I have a few concern in relation to this practice. There’s no doubt, that at its core, feeding others is one of the most authentic reflections of a sincere heart. The Qur’an often describes genuine piety as human acts such as feeding those who struggle, caring for the vulnerable, noticing the overlooked. One of its most striking passages praises those who give food “for God’s sake alone,” saying, “We seek neither reward nor thanks.” It reminders us that true charity will be based on sincerity rather than performance.
Of course, within this framework, feeding the poor through Shirni in memory of a loved one who has passed away can be a meaningful gesture. Provided the intention is simply to help the living and honour the goodness of the person remembered, or to become a way of letting their memory inspire kindness. But imagining that feeding the poor or performing rituals somehow affect the spiritual state of the deceased is an unfounded belief. The Qur’an never presents charity as a mechanism for transferring merit to the dead; rather it presents it as a moral responsibility to the living.
The main issue I have with this growing trend is that instead of a quiet helping effort to the needy, it has become a large feeding event where dignitaries are invited, cameras positioned and the entire scene broadcast across social media. What should be a quiet, thoughtful act of compassion is increasingly being turned into a public display. I feel the motivation is subtly shifting away from service and towards self-presentation. Behavioural studies on altruism show that when giving becomes tied to public recognition, internal sincerity begins to erode.
From a Qur’anic perspective, this shift undermines the very spirit of charity. The guidance to give “seeking neither reward nor thanks” speaks of a form of giving that should not have an audience, because when charitable acts are used to elevate one’s profile, the moral focus is lost. And when such displays are done “on behalf of the deceased,” the memory of those we claim to honour becomes a tool for attention rather than a quiet inspiration for goodness.
To understand why this distinction matters, we need to reflect on why we help the poor in the first place. It is clearly understood that no single act of giving will eradicate poverty from the world. The Qur’an itself acknowledges that the needy will always exist as part of human reality. Henceforth, we can accept that the purpose of charity is not the complete elimination of poverty; rather, it is to uphold dignity in the face of hardship. A person may live with very little and still possess deep contentment. What truly breaks people is not poverty per se, but indignity. Being made to feel inferior, dependent or displayed can wound the human spirit far more deeply than lack of material possessions.
Therefore, when charity is carried out in a way that exposes or showcases those in need, it undermines its purpose. Taking photos, filming faces or using recipients as visual proof of one’s generosity strips away the dignity charity is meant to restore. Instead of lifting someone up, it can leave them feeling used. Quiet assistance preserves dignity and public spectacle erodes it. So, public charity should never come at the cost of a person’s humanity.
The Qur’an’s depiction of sincere givers, those who feed “the needy, the orphan and the captive” while saying they expect no thanks, establishes an important principle of humility in charity. Of course, I do understand that exposure may sometimes encourage others to give, but it must never overshadow the respect owed to the people being helped.
I believe a sincere approach to the Shirni tradition in the light of the Qur’an, and to all acts of giving, should be to keep the focus where it belongs: on compassion, humility and quiet goodness for the sake of God alone. Because, every human being carries an innate worth that is independent of wealth, status or circumstance. When we give, we are not elevating ourselves; we are acknowledging a shared humanity. Therefore, the measure of generosity is not simply what is given, but how it is given. Charity that protects dignity carries real value. Charity that humiliates misses the point entirely.
