The Joy of Eid

The Joy of Eid

By

Irum Sarfaraz

It was only early afternoon in Karachi and the clear, dazzling sky, void of a even single piece of cloud, was blazing. There was still a week left of the Ramadan fasting before Eid-ul-Fitr[1]. Abdul wiped his hot face with his thick handkerchief as he walked back to the servant quarters at the far end of the palatial home where he worked as a driver. He had unbuttoned his uniform shirt by the time he reached his simple two room servant quarters. 

“Assalam Alaikum[2],” his wife Sajida emerged from the other room. 

“Walaikum Assalam[3],” Abdul mumbled. “Please turn the fan on.” Sajida looked at him sympathetically. 

“It is on full,” she answered. “You’ve just come from a very cold car.”

“Why don’t you feel the heat?” he joked feebly, looking drained.  

“Because I don’t know the comfort of air-conditioning,” she smiled. “Take a nap before you are called again. There are five hours before Iftaar[4].” Abdul nodded weakly. 

The three weeks of fasting and driving around in the hot weather had started to take a toll.  The last week of Ramadan was hard for everyone, working or not. That day too, Abdul was tired from driving around Madam and the two Choti[5] Madams since mid-morning. 

“What’s for Iftaar?” he asked Sajida. 

“Watermelon and Rooh Afza[6]. There is no ice. There is qeema [7]and roti[8] for dinner,” Sajida sounded cheerful as she informed him of the very simple menu. Since they only had meat once or twice a week so the qeema was a treat. 

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            Inside the grand house, there was a pile of new dresses on the designer sofa in the ice-cool, spacious family room. The huge glass windows with sophisticated drapery pulled to the sides overlooked a perfectly manicured lawn that was amazingly emerald even in the blistering heat of Karachi. 

            Sixteen-year-old Mahvish sat pouting on the large traditional takht[9] in the room. Upholstered in a royally traditional, magnificent print of damask with matching throw pillows and large gao-takyas[10], it had cost a small fortune. Fifteen-year-old Aalia was holding a new dress to herself admiringly in front of an ornate floor mirror. 

            “That’s the one I liked,” Mahvish glared. 

            “But you never liked this in the boutique,” Aalia answered gaily. She dumped the dress with the rest and rummaged through the pile for something else.

            “What are you doing?” Mrs. Tahira Khan entered the room. She walked to the small hill of new dresses on the sofa and started sorting them. “You’ve mixed them all up! Where are mine?”

            “They’re all there, Mama, but Aalia took the one I liked,” Mahvish complained. “She always does this and you never say anything.”

            “Oh, come on darling,” Tahira cajoled the hard-to-please Mahvish as she sorted her own dresses from the radiant pile of fabric. That entire morning’s shopping, three or four dresses for each, had cost nearly Rs. 2 lacs, nothing short of a small fortune.

            “Don’t you like this one?” she showed a multicolored chiffon kurta[11] with intricate beadwork to Mahvish. 

            “No,” Mahvish snapped. “All the ones I bought today are for the Iftaar parties.”

            “Don’t worry darling” Tahira smiled at her pretty daughter dressed in skinny jeans and T-shirt. “You can buy more before Eid.”

            “I want two for Eid too,” Aalia declared. 

            “Of course, jaani[12]. Did you call to remind Daddy about tonight’s Iftaar party?” she asked them. 

            “You call him,” Mahvish shot back. “He never picks up when we call.”

            “You should have him fast the entire Ramadan,” Aalia giggled. “Then he’ll always be on time for every Iftaar party.”

            “No jaani,” Tahira shook her head. “Daddy works very hard. People who work very hard and young kids like yourself are exempt.” She dutifully explained to her daughters, conveniently exempting the entire family from the mandatory fasting of Ramadan.

            Just then the maid, Shamim, wheeled in an elegant, glass and wood trolley laden with snacks and tea.

            “Thank God,” Mahvish eyed the cake and the samosas[13] hungrily. She picked up a glass of water from the trolley and took a sip. She then looked distastefully at Shamim.

“Why are there only three ice-cubes in it?” she demanded, scowling. “Don’t you know I like no less than six or seven?” she thrust the glass angrily in the maid’s hand, splashing water on the glistening floor. 

“Mama we need to leave now!” Aalia wailed. “I have to go to the mall to check out the new store and then to the parlor to get our hair done for the Iftaar party.” 

“Ok,” Tahira replied. “Keep your dresses for the evening too. We’ll get dressed at the parlor.”

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            It was still blazing at 4:00 p.m. when Abdul’s phone rang. He awoke from him nap, startled. 

            “Get ready Abdul, we have to leave for the Iftaar,” it was Madam’s curt voice. 

            “But Madam, it is only 4:00,” Abdul was confused as he fumbled around for his watch. Sunset and Iftaar was at 6:30 p.m. that day.

            “We have other things to do too,” she ordered. “We’re waiting.” 

            Abdul rushed to get ready. Just then, eight-year-old Saira woke from her nap. 

            “Are you leaving?” she asked, as she saw her father hurriedly combing his hair. “Will you be back for Iftaar?”

            “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he answered as he buttoned his shirt, still damp with perspiration. Sajida pressed two dates wrapped in paper in his hand. 

            “Make sure you open your fast on time with the dates” she reminded him. Madam always seemed to forget that he was fasting and Abdul’s self-respect kept him from reminding her. 

            Abdul dropped Madam and Choti Madams at the entrance of the high-class mall. They instantly went from a cool car to an equally cool mall, leaving Abdul to find a parking spot. He was now used to waiting in the hot car, sometimes for hours. He wasn’t allowed to operate the A.C. in a parked car and most of the parking in the city was open. It was rare to find shade. 

He parked at the end of the busy street. Presently, his eyes caught a cart vendor with piles of glistening, sparkling bangles. He remembered that Saira’s Eid dress was green and pink. Sajida had bought the material on sale from the Sunday bazaar and was stitching it herself. Luckily, he found matching bangles in a pretty design of pink and green. He knew Sajida would be displeased. She was very strict about saving every penny they had for Saira’s education and refused to engage in any frivolities. 

            Madam and her daughters emerged from the mall an hour later. Abdul then drove them to their parlor and waited again before finally dropping the three ladies at the Iftaar party at the Sheraton hotel. Decked out in new clothes, hairdos, and makeup, the three Madams gracefully swept into the glittering lights. Their new attires from the mall for the Iftaar plus the parlor bill cost well over Rs.1 lac and they still needed to buy dresses for the three days of the Eid celebrations. 

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It was ten minutes before Iftaar when Abdul rushed home. Saira had fasted all through Ramadan and was very proud of herself. Sajida had her start the mandatory fasting when she had turned seven, the recommended age for starting.  The family opened their fast with dates and drank the mildly sweet and moderately cool Rooh Afza. This was the best the small second-hand fridge they had could do. It had no freezer, so ice was out of the question. 

After the simple dinner of qeema and roti, Abdul handed Saira the small polythene bag of bangles and his heart filled with joy at his young daughter’s expressions of delight at such a simple gift.

            “Oh Abba[14]! They’re so pretty!” Saira chirped. “And they’re exactly the color of my Eid dress!”

 “Thank Allah (swt),” Sajida smiled at her, “who not only gave you a new dress for Eid but matching bangles too.”

            “Yes, Amma[15], I thanked Him in my heart,” Saira nodded. “Abba, this will be such a wonderful Eid!” her eyes were glistening with joy.  

“Dear child,” Abdul patted her head lovingly. “Eid is only wonderful when you fast all through the Ramadan and don’t miss any obligatory worship. It is not wonderful because of new things.” 

            “Yes Abba,” Saira nodded solemnly. “This is why this will be a wonderful Eid because I am doing all the good things.” 

Abdul smiled and kissed her head.  

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Three more days were left before the end of Ramadan. Choti Madams and their two friends, Shanno and Firdoes, were in the lawn, finalizing the plans for their grand Chand Raat [16]party. Shamim had served their snacks outside. Firdoes asked for more ice-cold Coke. 

            Looking around, Mahvish saw Saira walking in a distance. 

            “Saira!” she yelled. 

Startled, Saira turned to see Mahvish beckoning. 

            “Yes, Madam,” she walked up and asked politely. She was in awe of these pretty, glamorous madams who wore attire that made her blush and lower her gaze. 

            “Go tell Shamim to get cold Coke,” she ordered. Firdoes looked at Saira with interest. 

 “What’s your name?” she asked. 

            “Saira.”

            “Have a piece of cake,” Firdoes teased. 

            “I can’t. I’m fasting,” Saira shook her head and took a step back. 

            “Fasting!” Firdoes was amazed. “You’re too young to fast! That’s child abuse…” 

Shanno also eyed Saira sympathetically. 

            “Go find Shamim and tell her to bring the cold coke,” Aalia shooed her away. 

Saira walked away rapidly. These young Madams could be very intimidating. 

            “It’s none of your business whether or not she’s abused,” Aalia was irritated.

            “Such a young child being forced to fast,” Shanno felt genuine sympathy. “These lower-class people really have no life. What kind of Eid will the poor child have? Although it’s the merriest time with all the shopping and partying…but for them…???” she shook her head. 

            “Stop commiserating with the poor and focus on our party,” Mahvish snapped.  

It was the night of 27^th that day, the grandest night of Ramadan, The Night of Power that people spent in prayer and worship. But it was imperative for the Choti Madams to plan their elaborate party. 

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            “Amma why don’t the Choti Madams and their friends fast?” Saira asked Sajida later. 

            “What they do is their business, Saira. You focus on your own self,” Sajida replied gently. 

            “But Amma if they don’t fast, pray, or read Qur’an during Ramadan, how can they have a wonderful Eid?” Saira was confused. Her heart was so full of happiness and joy at fasting every day and not having missed any of her prayers. She felt like she was earning her Eid joy. 

            “When you make dua, ask Allah (swt) to give guidance to the Choti Madams,” Sajida smiled and explained. “If Allah (swt) turns their hearts, they too will start to fast.”

            “I’ll make dua from today,” Saira replied, making a firm resolution to start doing it right  away. 

            ‘Imagine,’ she later thought sadly, ‘not being able to enjoy the day of Eid. Rich people must have such sorrowful and gloomy Eids. I must pray to Allah (swt) to turn their hearts so that they too can know the real happiness and joy of Eid.’

“Oh Allah (swt),” she looked up at the sky, “Thank you for not making me a rich person. Eight-year-old Amira thanked Allah (swt) fervently from the bottom of her heart.

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[1] The official celebration at the end of Ramadan. 

[2] Islamic greeting, ‘Peace be upon you’. 

[3] Response, ‘Peace be upon you too.’

[4] Break of the day long fast at sunset.

[5] Younger. 

[6] Popular fruit squash made with herbal and natural ingredients. 

[7] Ground beef.

[8] Flatbread.

[9] A low wooden seat covered with expensive fabric. 

[10] Traditional bolster pillows. 

[11] Traditional long shirt. 

[12] Darling. 

[13] Fried dumplings with meat or potato filling. 

[14] Father. 

[15] Mother. 

[16] The night before Eid.