There is always a romantic earnest in learning how to wait for you to come. The counting down of the days are tantalising, and the night before is nerve-wrecking. Not because of apprehension, although there is a fair amount of that in the back of my mind, wondering what would happen, but more so of excitement. Of what could go right, of all the people I would meet, of all the gifts I would get. After fasting for 30 days, I felt deserving of your arrival.
The 30 days during which I would try to form new habits, break old and bad ones. The 30 days during which the countdown for dusk was a family ritual, just like the breakfast we would have on the day you come. The 30 days during which my patience and virtue would be tested. Out of the two, you’re my favourite. I know I shouldn’t choose – how can one choose between sisters, especially those two which are heavily intertwined in religion? But you are. You are soft, adorned with grace and charisma, walking into our lives with an aura that enlightens that of others; how can I not choose you?
With your arrival marked on our calendars, my family was brought together. Waiting for the azaan* on the balcony, the early evening breeze feels cool to the skin. Mixing juices and drinks in the kitchen, surrounded by bustling servants and all the women in the house, feels like pieces of the puzzle coming together. Leaving the table after breaking my fast to go pray together with Nanu**, feels divine. You’re more than a religious festival, you are a once in a year gift that blesses us with gratitude and love for all that we have. Being apart from the places where I used to celebrate you makes me realise what a vital part of my life you are. What a true form of love you are.
Eid-ul-Fitr, you are truly one of a kind. Thank you, my love, for the wonderful memories that you’ve blessed me with. Thank you, my darling, for helping me rediscover divinity in the field of blooming irises. Thank you, my beloved, for restoring my faith in not only me, but all that I love as well,
Till we meet again,
* Islamic call for prayer
** Bangladeshi language, meaning maternal grandmother