Eid Mubarak (say it back)! I remember being plucked out of school for two days out of the year, Eid al-Fitr (after Ramadan) and Eid al-Adha. My sister Zoya and I were embarrassed by the traditional desi clothing we were forced to wear. We’d hope no one our age was around as our father shuttled us to the mosque early in the morning to pray. I cried many years in a row because I felt so ugly in the clothing and disconnected from myself. Embarrassed, staring into the mirror muttering over and over again, “This isn’t me”. But it was– at least parts of it.
At this age, I’m desperate to cling onto the good things about the only holidays we have. We only have two. And there were some good things about the Eids too. On Eid you get “Eidi” (money) from your relatives. An easy few hundred dollars. My mom made biryani or haleem, our favorite dishes. She always showed her love through food (Shan masala packets). Coming together for a meal was the only way our family knew how to celebrate anything. Birthdays, holidays, it was all the same. It’s just us after all. With our extended family overseas, we’ve only had each other. One sister. One brother. One mom. One dad. Not many options.
The one mother and father, however, now live in Pakistan. They retired there a few weeks ago and things have been quiet ever since. All I have to remember them by are some empty plates in my kitchen cupboard. Where’s Mama to put some food on these plates? Why don’t I smell the nostalgic chai brewing in the air? To be honest, I’ve been mourning their losses since they left.
What about my siblings? What do I do with Zoya and Zoraiz now? What kind of tradition are we meant to build? As first-generation Americans, we’ve always been confused about our role(s) in life. Mom and dad tried to set rules and morals and responsibilities for us children, but with them on the other side of the world, all of that goes out the window. It’s up to Zoya, Zoraiz and I to pave our own paths.
Our Eids have always felt lonely, but this has been the loneliest. I feel so isolated from my culture and traditions. Our parents’ one wish, for us to carry on the tradition, lay rotting. I’ve never been so out of touch with my culture, but it feels as if my chance to catch up escaped, along with my parents. Meanwhile, they’re living it up in Pakistan. Imagine Christmas x 10. Fireworks, feasts, family. Does it get better than that?
So no, I don’t know how to celebrate Eid, but I appreciate an Eid Mubarak! from my friends. I’m not part of a local mosque (I would feel like an intruder if I went). There’s no family around the DMV. We never had Muslim family friends who celebrated with us so it makes sense why Eid has been reduced to a low-quality phone call from 7,144 miles away. I’m hoping by the next Eid Zoya, Zoraiz and I do have a tradition in place we can repeat with our families. That’s all I can hope for.
