Eidi

As the men of the house gathered in the drawing room to stand up for the ritualistic Eid namaz, 15 year old Ayesha sat across the hall all by herself in her room.

Somehow today seemed like a gloomier and a drearier day than it actually was, although the sun shone it’s usual glee, the breeze rustled just the adequate amount, and the lane below was as quiet as it would have been on any ordinary day. Ayesha thought about the previous times when the whole house would get up at 6 in the morning to prepare for the day ahead. While Baba (grandfather), Abba (father), brothers and uncles occupied the washrooms to cleanse, scrub and dress in sterling white kurta-pajamas, the women of the house hustled in the kitchen preparing sewain, sheer khurma, kebabs and other delicacies for the anticipated guests.

When the men left for Eidgah at around 8, the ladies strained to finish cooking and dress up themselves before their counterparts and children came back along. All of the elders would then wish each other ‘Eid Mubarak’ in their glittery new clothes and sit down together to savour a cup of tea with freshly prepared treats, while the children would run around the house joyously counting their Eidi and preparing a list of toys to buy from the street fair held outside. Today, the ladies just retreated to their rooms to pray after cleaning the house. The house was outcast and impregnated by a dismal feeling of gloom. There were no new clothes or any delicacies. Had Ammi been there, she would have been badgering Ayesha to wipe the table, lay out the cutlery or simply to take a bath and get ready.

In the drawing room, Bade Abba’s call ‘Allah hu Akbar Allah’ was followed by murmurs of the same. Several hands went up till the ears in reverence to Allah, by the men standing in the queue behind Bade Abba who then started reciting other prayers. Ayesha turned away from the synchronised gesticulation to look outside the window. The house infront was separated from theirs by a narrow lane which mostly had parked cars and little movement. In former times, Guddu- the sweeper would arrive earlier than usual on the day of Eid to fringe the drains on each side with a neat line of white quicklime and sweep the lane spic and span with his titanic broom. Today, there were no Guddu, no titanic broom and no quicklime margins, rather the lane was strewn about with empty packets of uncle chips, stale food at the corners for street dogs, a single slipper broken from the toe tie and random bits of paper.

The retinue in the drawing room was on the last strung of the prayer.

“Ya Allah is waba ko duniya se naist nabood kar de. Jo beemar hain unko shifa-e-kulli, shifa-e-kaamla ata farma. Unko sehat yaab bana. Jo faut ho gaye hain, unki qabro ko qushada kar de, unko Jannat-ul-fidaus me Mukaam-e-Mohammadia me uncha darja de…”, the voice trailed off.

Ayesha looked at her ruffled bedsheet, she didn’t feel the need to get up and press the wrinkles away. Usually Baba would lead this prayer, but Baba gave in to coronavirus last month. The virus latched on to Abba who ran hither thither scouring for oxygen cylinders, injections and other coronavirus elements for Baba. But to no avail. They didn’t even get time to mourn Baba’s death as Abba tested positive just 2 days later.

One death was enough to induce the horror for the disease. However, no amount of fear could account for the love of a kin. Ammi went after attending to Abba without a second thought. The joint family of 11 members left no stone unturned and pulled all strings to provide medical help for Abba. But help was scarce- there were no hospital beds, oxygen cylinders could be found after hours of calling and checking, if at all. And even then, they were exorbitantly priced at 5 times the original rate or more. Fake companies had sprung up and you had to be extra careful with medicines. The family even bribed people to curate the essentials but the system had broken down, it was chaotic and scary, and very little that could be done.

Ammi was pinned down next, very expectedly, as she had voluntarily agreed to embrace covid with Abba. The same run of the mill routine was followed for Ammi. The house had gone numb- they were exhausted, wary, sad, raging, exasperated…I could go on, but no words could remotely come close to what they were feeling at the time. Nevertheless, Abba lost his battle 5 days to Eid. Ammi was still struggling with her 80 spo2 levels, in a make-shift hospital, two blocks from home so Abba was buried without even intimating her. Thankfully, Ayesha tested negative, but she had still taken to her room owing to the peril that had befell the house.

The prayer was over. Everyone got up from the namaz, hugged each other, mumbled a downcast ‘Eid Mubarak’ and proceeded for tea. There was just tea today, no sewain- the house was mourning. Even 5 year old Fatima could sense it as she didn’t demand her Eidi. But when she did get the 100 rupee note from Bade Abba, her eyes did not light up in the usual way, she did not run around with Hamza to celebrate, she silently went back and sat still next to her mother, as if to participate in the mourning. Ayesha has also come out but she didn’t feel like having tea, she was waiting for her Chacha to arrive from the hospital and bring her mother’s welfare. She sat back thinking about her hospitalized mother. No amount of Eidi could appease her today.

After what seemed to be forever, finally the doorbell rang- she sprung up from the sofa and was at the door in split seconds. Her chacha was there on the other end of the door covered in a PPE kit. But there was someone else along, her mother! In that moment, Ayesha stared at her in disbelief and a feeling which could be best described as an amalgamation of joy and pain. At first, she leapt to her mother in an attempt to hug her- immediately she resisted. She couldn’t be reckless. Her mother was the only one she had now. She kept looking at her mother without a word, first with an awe of her being, then with love for her well-being, then with pain for her condition and the loss of her husband, then with a longing to hold her close and then with triumph to have somewhat battled the malady. A million thoughts raced her mind but nothing translated into words except a meek- Assalamalaikum!

As the mother daughter duo stood on either end of the door- tears streaming down the face, the house gathered up around. Ayesha felt weaker than she should have felt. She felt like she would collapse any second with the whirlpool of emotions surging inside her. It seemed like an eternity had passed since she had seen her mother and it would be eons before she could embrace her and let go of her burning emotions. But this was enough for today. Maybe Allah had listened to her pleas. Maybe the worst was over and maybe better times were on the way. Maybe this was the best Eidi that she had ever received.