Relive Eids Past: At Eid ul Azha 2020 We Live On Our Islands Of Self-Isolation
By Rakhshanda Jalil
01 Aug 2020
This is
that time of the year when people are usually rushing ‘home for Eid’ and when
Eid falls on a weekend, as it does this year, it’s considered a rare windfall.
Airfares are known to spike on certain routes just before Eid, given the sheer
volume of those wanting to make it home, even if it is no more than Dhaiyya
Chhuna (reminiscent of a childhood game of touch-n-run).
For those
of us who live in cities the year round, the very idea of ‘going home’ for Eid
is an evocative one, mixing memory with desire, religion with culture, and Faraiz
(duties) with gastronomic delights. This year, when it is impossible to travel
to other cities let alone meet friends from within the city, one can do no more
than relive Eids past.
Vignettes
from Eids Past
Let me
evoke for you a vignette from the past when I found myself celebrating Eid en
famile in a small town in eastern Uttar Pradesh. It is the night before Eid; all
around me sights, sounds and smells convey the excitement of the big day
tomorrow. Sewaiyan have been bought and cooked in vast quantities; this being
the heart of the Gangetic plain, the syrupy version made out of an incredibly
fine variety of Sewaiyan popular in these parts has been made and stored
ahead.
Copious
amounts of finely sliced onions have been fried to a nice crispy brown; they
will be needed in the many meat preparations tomorrow.
Stacks of
crockery and cutlery have been washed in readiness for the stream of visitors
tomorrow. New clothes have been stitched for young and old.
The Chooriwali
has gone from home to home selling dozens of glittering glass bangles. The Mehndiwali
has been instructed to show up late in the evening to apply intricate patterns
on the palms of eagerly waiting young girls. And, of course, the goats have
been bought and tethered in the compound; I can hear them bleating and see rows
of little children solicitously offering them tender green leaves, for it is Sawaab
to tend the sacrificial animals.
Chooris / Bangles.(Wikimedia Commons)
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Mehndi. (Wikimedia Commons)
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While the
word ‘Eid’ literally means festival and both occasions are festive, this is
also a day of remembrance. It reminds Muslims the world over of Abraham’s
willingness to sacrifice the thing that was dearest to him – his first-born
child Ishmael – to a command from Allah. It also marks the culmination of the
annual Hajj pilgrimage, which is not merely farz (obligatory) and one of the
five pillars of Islam but also a matter of great pride and joy for Muslims the
world over. And on any given Bakreid, every Muslim will know of some
relative, friend, or neighbour who is away for Hajj. Again, not this year. This
year only 10,000 people are performing the Hajj with due social distancing and
all live inside Saudi Arabia.
If Eid-ul
Fitr gives the occasion to partake of the bounty that Allah has granted after a
month of abstinence and introspection, this Eid reminds Muslims of the
importance of qurbani as well as patience and constancy – the hallmarks of a
true Believer. While peace and salutations are offered to Abraham everyday as
part of the daily Namaz, on this day his obedience and willingness is
commemorated by a token act of sacrificing an animal such as a goat or sheep.
A Long
Day for Women
The day
begins with congregational prayers in an Eidgah; across South Asia, women still
do not normally go to the mosque to pray, preferring to offer their daily
prayers as well as the special Eid ones at home. The Eid Namaz is followed by a
special khutbah (sermon) and then, after the customary Eid greeting of
embracing three times, the men usually go to graveyards to offer Fateha
to dead and departed ancestors. The family graveyard, in my husband’s hometown,
is a charming spot located next to the Eidgah; it is cathartic to remember the
dead in this serene space with towering trees and flowering bushes.
14th-century Eidgah, built during Tughlaq dynasty rule
in Delhi(Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
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Back home,
the sacrifice has to be performed at the earliest possible. Its meat is divided
into three equal parts: one for the poor and needy, one for friends and
neighbours and a third for one’s self. No distinction is to be made who it goes
to; for it must be sent to friends and neighbours regardless of religion or
rank. And while the men and boys laze around, drink tea, go visiting soon after
the qurbani, the women’s work begins.
The first
of the many Eid dishes to tickle one’s palate is always, always kaleji, goat’s
liver cooked in a pungent sauce and redolent with the robust flavor of methi
seeds. What follows is a day of relentless bingeing. Having had one’s fill of
whatever has been cooked in one’s immediate family, one embarks on a
gastronomic journey that has many known and unknown delights.
Kaleji / liver curry. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
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The biryani
at X Dadi’s house is a cherished memory as are the kebab’s at Y chacha’s home,
not to mention the Akhra (ribs) cooked by his sister. The new daughter-in-law
of Z Bhabhi, so one is told in tones of hushed awe, makes the most incredible
paye (trotters). And then, of course, the sheer (milky Sewaiyan) made by
Z Bhabhi herself is the stuff that sweet dreams are made of. And so, going by
past experience and new gossip on the family grapevine, one sets out on a
house-hopping adventure.
Biryani. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
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Kebabs. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)
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My
daughters, being visitors, get more Eidi money than their resident cousins
while the rest of us get to reconnect and replenish family bonds.
But not
this year. This year as we live on our islands of self-isolation and wonder at
the futility of cooking elaborate meals when there is no one to share them with
and, horror of horrors, have to actually buy meat instead of having plenty in
the house, we find recourse in poetry, the sharper the better such as this by
Meer Kallu Arsh:
Badle
Dumbe Ke Karein Rind Ussi Ko Qurban
Eid-E
Qurbaan Mein Jo Sun Paayein Bayaaen-E Waiiz
Instead of
the sacrificial sheep the drinker sacrifices him
Who listens
to the sermon of the preacher on the Eid of Sacrifice
Some poets
have been brave enough to highlight the pop-up goat markets that sprout at this
time and the exorbitant prices of goats and sheep that rise exponentially as
Eid approaches:
Chaurahon
Par Khade Hue Bakron Ke Hain Jo Ġhol
Tu Un Ke
Munh Ko Khol Ke Danton Ko Mat Tatol
Qimat
Mein Varna Aaega Fauran Hi Itna Jhol
Sone Ka
Jaise Bakra Ho Aisa Padega Mol
The groups
of goats standing at the crossroads
Don’t pry
open their mouth to examine their teeth
Or else
there will such a sudden change in its price
You will
think you are buying a goat made of gold
“Yun
Saja Rakkha Tha Qurbani Ka Bakra Shoḳh Ne”
The qurbani
ka bakra becomes a metaphor for the lover as here by Zafar Iqbal:
Yun Saja
Rakkha Tha Qurbani Ka Bakra Shoḳh Ne
Dil
Hamara Dekhte Hi Dekhte Bakri Hua
She had
displayed her sacrificial lamb so ostentatiously
That my
heart immediately turned into a goat!
And on the
recent phenomenon of e-qurbani, here is Khalid Irfan
Khuda Ke
Ghar Men Visa Card Ka System Nahin Hai
Credit Card Ke Bakre Ki Qurbani Se Bachna
There’s no
system of credit cards in God’s house
Beware of
the sacrifice of credit card goats
Since both
Eids are a virtual open house affording plenty of opportunities to meet (and
there seems a natural rhyme to Eid and Deed, meaning ‘to see’), there’s
a profusion of poetry on the social and cultural aspect of this festival. But
this year, there will be no knock on the door, no visitors, no open house:
Eid Aai Tum Na Aae Kya Maza Hai Eid Ka
Eid Hi To Naam Hai Ik Dusre Ki Diid Ka
Eid has come but you have not come
Eid is nothing but a name for seeing each other
Dr Rakhshanda Jalil is a writer, translator and
literary historian. She writes on literature, culture and society. She runs
Hindustani Awaaz, an organisation devoted to the popularisation of Urdu
literature. She tweets at @RakhshandaJalil. This is an opinion piece and the
views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is
responsible for the same.
Original
Headline: This Eid, There’ll Be No Knock
On The Door: Let’s Relive Eids Past
Source: The Quint
URL: https://newageislam.com/islamic-society/relive-eids-past-eid-ul/d/122528