Cov-Eid. (Or atleast how it should have been.)

I woke up to the gentle sound of my Mum calling up the stairs.

“Shaymaaa….! Shayma…? Wake up, we need to get ready for Eid namaaz.” Her voice a brilliant balance of being quiet enough, acknowledging that people in the house were still asleep and the birds tweeting outside was the only sound you could hear, but also firm enough to ensure that I didn’t just roll over and go back to sleep again.

Eid morning always held the same atmosphere; the sound of a random police siren wailing in the far distance, the clanking of a metal spoon against an Indian pot, ladling litres of creamy sev-milk, steam rising and making the windows go cloudy, as my Mum crushed vermicelli and sprinkled it into the potion along with chopped almonds and pistachios. Her magic concoction bubbling away temptingly. The smell of cardamom, cinnamon and sugar swirling around our kitchen, luring my groggy-eyed, Albert-Einstein-haired self into the kitchen and leading me, slowly…slowly…

Another loud CLANK! against the metal pot snapped me out of my zombie –like state. 

Morning salaah was always a blissful experience because everyone was fresh-eyed, dressed and perfumed in their best clothes, they’d performed their ghusl, and had fled to their local park to pray in congregation. The crisp morning air, the dewy smell of just-rained-on grass, birds tweeting and the leaves swaying was a refreshing way to begin this sacred day. That, and the fact that random strangers were being extra-polite to each other; the children smiled their funny gap-toothed smiles at me as they eyed the candy-striped bags of sweets spilling over in my handbag. Their plump pink lips dribbling with excitement, eyes widening in anticipation. All good behaviour and decorum lost post-prayer as little chubby hands grabbed at foil-wrapped toffees, sparkly cola bottles and sugary strawberries glittering in the morning light. 

Envious toddlers side-eyeing this crazy 
debacle and tugging at their mother's clothes, wanting to grab some of this treasure for themselves. 

Yes, morning prayer felt like the most genuine part of the day because later on, after lunch, when everyone was massaging their stomachs, all thought of spirituality was swapped with the need to ‘sleep off’ the Biryani! 

Friends embraced. 

"Oh my God! As Salaamu Alaikum! How was your Ramadhan?"

" Alhamduillah it was ok! But the kids drove me crazy!" 

Uni friends who hadn't seen one another squealed and waved. 

"As salaam u Alai kum chick!" *hugs* "Have you applied for post-grad then?" 

"How's the job going?"

The men walking over to the women's section, looking for sisters, Mums, wives. Newlyweds celebrating their first Eid together, a special time, taking pictures by the trees. 

"Hey babe where are you? I'm waiting by the ice-cream shop." 

The strong woody scent of the Oud rose in smoky clouds, disappearing into swirly mists around the room. You could close your eyes and be transported to a Middle-Eastern fortune-teller's tent.

 Plates and platters of delicious cakes adorned the table. Chunks of Lamingtons, floral-shaped shortbread drizzled with milk chocolate and naan khatai decorated with coloured coconut. Moon shaped biscuits dusted with icing sugar, Vienesse Whirls scattered with sprinkles, and would Eid even be Eid without the classic Viennese finger dipped in velvety chocolate? It was endearing to see the effort put into the baking and the care with which they were wrapped up in cellophane and ribbon. 

Eid was also a chance to display your culinary skills, or to show off the latest icing trends on your cakes. The dining table transformed into a catwalk for the different plates of food, where we would all "Ooh!" over so and so's plate of Biryani and "Aaah!" over Aunty X's perfectly crafted cupcakes.