Kinda Forgot Eid

I come from a household of many siblings so my miff at not being included in things is about the same as my dread of being corralled into “family fun”. When I found myself on Eid not dressed up and nowhere to go, I have to admit, I felt left out. So what if I got to sleep in and spent the previous day not cooking things with pleasant sounding names and unpleasantly long recipes. So what if I swished around in my jammies leaving dust bunnies scurrying in my wake. We were not doing anything eid-y. The white atheist dude in my head (yes, I know, you have one too) tells me to make my own celebratory ritual. Okay, makes sense, but no thanks. Do not want to live the rest of my life doing Opposite Day; my entire existence mapped out in terms of ink blot art held up to discriminating eyes who will no doubt in it see god.

Growing up, Eid was everything-gots-to-be-new day, and my Mum picked up the ball and ran with that. I’m talking new bedding, new towels, new undies. My Dad would go to the masjid and come back smelling overly sweet, which is what holy smells like. People gave money and those who didn’t, boxes of chocolate. A creepy uncle would then try to take my money but I digress. Piety and profanity have always being the order of all holy days. Biryani and Bollywood are necessary counter balances to spirituality and prayer.

All the ghosts of Eid past come sit by me as I drink unsweetened chai. So what now? The day rolled by and my family did our usual thing. By the end of the day I realized that there was a small part of me that was like a child. A child who got angry and hid away, waiting for someone to come looking. So I read some, cleaned some and got on with things. Nothing bad happened and no one was unkind. Making good ordinary is a fine life project to embrace. Besides, we still got Halloween. Free candy, new clothes, kind and creepy people — don’t worry kids, I got you covered.