There are moments in life when pain does not shout; it sits quietly in front of you, on a plate you never ordered, asking you to look at it honestly. This article is born from one such moment. What began as a simple visit to a marriage ceremony slowly unfolded into an experience that shook our conscience and eventually led us, my classmates and me, to begin an Abhiyan against food waste in Kishanganj district of Bihar.

This is a story that led me and my class friends to the opening of an Abhiyan (campaign) aimed at preventing food waste in the Kishanganj district of Bihar.

Last month, I went with four of my class friends to attend the marriage ceremony of my old close friend’s sister. We were neatly dressed, black spectacles resting on our eyes. We arrived late at night, at a time when most people had already finished their dinner.

As soon as we reached the entrance gate, we informed our friend Kashif of our arrival. He rushed towards us with flowers in his hands to welcome us. Hugging us warmly and shaking our hands firmly, he said, “You are too late, yaar, why?”

“Actually, when we asked Ehtesham Ustad for leave, he refused at first. After a long time and much entreaty, he finally allowed us. It happens, buddy, we are students after all. Anyway, let’s hope some appetite is still safe for us tonight. Come on, let’s move fast. Hasan said jokingly.”

First, we roamed around the hall, meeting friends and relatives. Then, at last, we darted towards the dining hall. Only a few people were still eating; most had already finished and moved towards the marriage stage. The dining hall was expensively decorated, flowers adorned every table, and the bright lights made it feel as though it were still daytime.

“Hey, my dears! You all came too! Why didn’t you come with us?” A familiar, soft voice filled with happiness came from behind us. We turned abruptly. To our surprise, two teachers from our madrasa, the Assistant Director and the Administrator, stood there, smiling warmly.

“Ustad, I didn’t know you were attending this marriage,” I said politely in a low voice. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, we’ve just arrived. Have you?” Saeed Ustad replied
“Not yet,” we all answered together.
‘So let’s go.’

Saeed Ustad gestured for us to move towards the last table of the first row. As we walked through the passage, we noticed something unsettling. On both sides, plates lay abandoned on almost every table, filled with leftover food. Our surroundings were saturated with waste. At one table, three men stood up simultaneously, leaving behind plates heaped with food. Jamal Ustad, the Administrator, immediately questioned them about wasting food. “It is our choice, not yours,” one of them replied before walking away.

We sat at our assigned table; it too was already covered with food. Seeing us, a caterer approached and began pulling all the plates from the table, dumping the food into a sack meant for waste, already half full. While doing so, he murmured to himself in a low, trembling voice, “This is the same food for which a doctor once advised me to feed my eleven-year-old son, who had grown thin and fragile because he never received a proper diet in his childhood.” Before we could react, he moved on to the next table, dragging the heavy sack across the carpet.

We were then served food on fresh plates. When the caterer placed plates in front of our Director and Administrator, both of them refused.

“Wait, we’re coming back right away,” Jamal Ustad said, and walked to that table where those three men had left food on their plates. He gathered the leftover food from those plates, piled it onto one, and returned to his seat. We watched him in stunned silence as both teachers began eating from that plate.

At that moment, it struck me that I, too, should have eaten that wasted food. But it was already too late, we had been served on new plates. Shame crept into my heart. Without speaking, we began to eat. “Why are you all sitting in such dreadful silence?” Saeed Ustad asked, puzzled. Slowly, we gathered ourselves and drifted into lighter conversation, about the groom’s home, the arrival of the baraat, and the groom’s work.

The next morning, we returned to school before classes began, though slightly late, as leave had been granted until eight o’clock. That night, after the Isha prayer, Saeed Ustad called us for a meeting. We did not know why. We speculated nervously; perhaps we had done something wrong the day before. Confused and anxious, we entered his chamber.

“Sit, my dears,” he said gently.

“How was your experience at the marriage ceremony last night?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“It was good, really,” I replied, uncertain why he had called us so urgently. Our eyes were fixed on our hands; our hearts pounded loudly, and my throat felt tight. The silence between us grew heavy.

After a long pause, he spoke again. “Tell me honestly, does this kind of food waste happen in all marriage ceremonies in Kishanganj, or was it just last night?”

“No,” one of my friends replied reluctantly. “This system of food waste is common across the district. I have seen it since childhood.”

Hearing this, Saeed Ustad leaned back in his chair as if struck in the chest. His eyes narrowed, his face tightened, and for a moment, he was unable to speak.

Then he said, “In Malappuram district of Kerala, where I belong and studied, you will never see people being so reckless with food. Food waste prevention is taken seriously there. How did such carelessness grow here?”

He continued, his voice heavy with pain: “Kishanganj reflects many realities. On one side are people struggling for basic survival; on the other are people wasting enormous amounts of food at marriages, hotels, and parties, without realizing how many lives are on the verge of extinction because of that very food. Their own brothers, sisters, and relatives starve, while food is thrown into dustbins.” He paused, drank some water, and added quietly, “Will people realize this themselves, or do they need vigilance?”

“Ustad,” we said, “it is nearly impossible to expect people to stop on their own. Food waste has become normal. Minds must be reformed.”

“How will we do that?” Rehan asked.
“That,” he replied, “is exactly why I have called you here.”

After discussing observations across age and gender, we decided to launch an Abhiyan to spread awareness among all generations.

What Is Bhojan Bachao Abhiyan?

Bhojan Bachao Abhiyan is a campaign launched in the Kishanganj district of Bihar by students of Class 11 under the supervision of CT Abdul Kadir and Assistant Director Saeed Hudawi. The aim is to eradicate food wastage in marriage ceremonies and public functions within one year, from 17 November 2025 to 17 November 2026.

The Abhiyan was formally launched on 17 November in a meeting addressed by Dr. Zuber Hudawi, founder of Qurtuba Welfare Foundation, along with MSF members from 22 villages. The campaign works irrespective of religion, because saving food is a universal responsibility.

Phases of the Abhiyan

• School Team: Seven students from our class were selected by Chairman Naqui Ashraf. Their responsibility is to mobilize students from schools, coaching centers, and madrasas. Students represent the future generation; if they understand the value of food, they will influence their parents and pass the message forward.
• Public Team: This team operates in markets and public spaces. Influential local figures speak on microphones, while projectors display visuals related to food waste. People are encouraged to speak and reflect. Members wear uniforms bearing the message “Bhojan Bachao, Pura Khao” and place posters in public areas.
• Mohalla Team: This team visits villages and neighborhoods, gathering small groups of families, addressing people in mosques, programs, and local functions to spread awareness at the grassroots level.

All volunteers wear the same campaign attire and display posters across villages, schools, shops, and public spaces. To reach beyond physical limits, Instagram pages and WhatsApp groups have been created to share updates, videos, and daily activities of the Abhiyan.

Each team functions under a leader, with a central body overseeing all activities. A financial committee manages funds to sustain this large-scale effort.

From One Plate to a Movement

What began as a silent moment of shame before a plate of wasted food became the seed of a movement. Bhojan Bachao Abhiyan is not just about saving food; it is about restoring conscience, dignity, and humanity. If even one person pauses before wasting food, remembers that night, and chooses responsibility over indifference, then this pain will not have been in vain.

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