As I leaf through the pages of memory, Eid days flicker like precious jewels. The people of the city, the essence of Eid in the city. Every year, at the beginning of Ramadan, there’s a buzz of excitement. Eid is coming, it means new clothes and happiness!
Alongside the school gate, crowds gather at the Eid card shops. 2 taka, 5 taka, 10 taka. With the money saved for tiffin, I would buy cards for my dear friends. A small card of red, blue, or yellow inside a colourful envelope. A tiny message of joy hidden within Barbie or Tom and Jerry, Cinderella or Mickey Mouse cards. “Eid Mubarak”.
When the Eid holiday began, we bid farewell to dear friends on the last day of school. Both joy and sadness were felt. The pressure of homework with friends and the tension of buying Eid clothes were palpable. Fathers would rush home after getting their Eid bonus. For daughters, the most beautiful clothes were sought. After buying Eid clothes, the sparkle in their father’s eyes upon seeing them was more precious than Eid itself.
As Eid approached, the houses in the city would empty out. The favourite friend next door would go to their village with their family to celebrate Eid. Before leaving, they would make plans, “We’ll meet after Eid. Then we’ll play a lot, alright?” Sitting In a corner of the playground, I would dream with a heart as solid as the bricks, “If only we could celebrate Eid together this time!”
Returning home, I would see that before my arrival, my mother had shown my Eid clothes to my aunts, and bust out into tears. “Why did you show them? How will my Eid be now?” I’d ask in frustration. My mother would laugh and say, “Oh, silly! Eid isn’t over just because the clothes are worn!”
At the end of Ramadan, we would eagerly await the moon sighting for Eid. The competition of who would spot the Eid moon first was intense. Then, in the western sky, the beautiful Eid moon would appear, “Assalamu Alaikum, Eid Mubarak”.
And it was incomplete without listening to the song played on BTV, “O mor Romjan er oi rojar sheshe elo khushir Eid”. Mother would start preparing in the kitchen, while my sister and I would be responsible for decorating the house. As the brothers sat down to pray, we knew whichever house they visited after prayers would receive a heavy pocketful of Eid greetings. Thus, the excitement of the night before Eid would pass, and the day of Eid itself would unfold like a dream. How beautiful! How beautiful! May such days come again and again.