Teens reached for their newly bought smartphone. Dressed in brand-new clothes, they searched for the perfect corner of the house, tilted their phones slightly, and waited for the right filter to capture the moment.

Within minutes, Facebook feeds were filled with Eid selfies. There were no stories, no reels, just a carefully chosen photo and a caption that simply read “Eid Mubarak.”

Earlier this year, social media was suddenly flooded with memories from 2016. The ten-year nostalgia trend reminded millennials and even some older Gen Z just how much life has changed since then. Dramatic teenagers slowly turned into responsible adults, careers began to take shape, and the world quietly moved forward.

With Eid approaching again, it feels like the perfect moment to revisit that memory through an Eid lens and travel back to a simpler time.

Eid ul Fitr in 2016 fell in July. The morning carried a calm, breezy warmth that seemed to hold excitement in the air. Homes were busy with preparations, new clothes were carefully ironed, and kitchens were alive with the sound of plates and dishes being arranged for guests.

In the days leading up to Eid, neighbourhood streets often had small temporary stalls selling Eid cards. Children would pause in front of them while returning from Eid shopping with their families, flipping through colourful designs before choosing one. The cards were simple, often decorated with bright patterns or familiar cartoon characters, but they quietly became part of the excitement leading up to Eid.

Schools used to remain closed for the entire month of Ramadan, so exchanging Eid cards with friends before the holiday became a small ritual. Those handwritten greetings felt far more personal than the quick wishes we send today.

Eid shopping also followed its own traditions. Many outfits were inspired by dresses seen in popular Hindi television serials. For many children, the logic was simple. Television channels aired almost seven days of special Eid programmes, which meant one outfit for each day of celebration.

Television itself played a huge role in shaping the Eid atmosphere. Families gathered together in the living room to watch Eid natoks, patiently waiting for the show to begin and then waiting again for the advertisements to end. Streaming platforms had not yet taken over everyday entertainment, so television remained the centre of shared excitement.

2016 also carried one quiet absence. It was the first Eid without Sikandar Box, the beloved television character whose presence had shaped the festive atmosphere of so many earlier seasons. Nobody announced it, but many people felt it.

For teenagers, however, the highlight of the day remained something much simpler. Retrica selfies filled social media as everyone proudly showed off their Eid outfits. Many of the people who now carry iPhones did not own one yet at that time. Facebook had only recently introduced reaction buttons, and the story and reel features that now dominate social media had not yet arrived.

Salami was another moment of excitement. Most envelopes carried 50 or 100 taka notes, and receiving a 500 taka note felt like hitting a small jackpot. The now familiar 200 taka note had not even been introduced yet.

Eid outings also looked different back then. Restaurants were not the centre of celebration the way they often are today. Instead, Eid seemed to arrive at home. Relatives moved from house to house throughout the day, living rooms filled with conversations, laughter, and the constant passing of plates filled with polao, korma, and shemai. Family gatherings were the real destination.

And like every generation of teenagers before them, the young people of 2016 had their own quiet secrets tucked inside the celebrations. Some carefully set aside a small box of polao from the family feast, saving it to share with someone special later in the afternoon.

Others slipped out for a little while, finding a small pocket of time during the busy Eid day to meet someone they cared about before returning to the noise of relatives and the smell of food. Nobody planned these moments too carefully. They simply happened, small and fleeting and meaningful only to the two people involved.

Back then, most of us were still firmly on the receiving end of salami rather than the ones handing it out. Adulthood felt far away, something that would arrive eventually, but not yet, not today.

Ten years later, it is 2026. Phones have upgraded, filters have changed, and the Facebook feeds that once filled with Retrica selfies now carry photos of children who were not yet born in 2016. Many traditions have shifted gently without anyone deciding to change them.

That, perhaps, is what nostalgia reminds us of. Not that the past was better, but that we were still becoming and did not know it yet. The teenagers who once waited eagerly for salami are now the ones placing money into small hands. The warmth of Eid remains. Only the direction of the giving has changed.