I'm ranting...about Eid! Ridiculous I tell you!

Yeah, I can’t believe I found something to rant about on Eid, but I did…and it sucks…

It has been an exact week since we celebrated Eid, and I do miss all of it, not just from this year but from my childhood as well.

Let me begin by telling you a little of what my Eid memories consist of, because to me those days were ideal ones.

Every year my dad would take me to this shop known as Poshak (back when it was a simple family-store, not a money-sucking business branch) and buy me my Eid suit. I would always let Abu choose the suit for me. We would buy bangles from the same store, as well as shoes and mehndi.

My aunts would put mehndi on my little hands as well as their own, and all night I would sleep in an awkward position so as not to ruin the design and have minimum chipping.

Back then I hated the scent of mehndi. Who would have thought I would grow to sniff my henna-ed up hands loving the smell of the green paste.

My mother would wake me up early the next morning to shower and dawn my new clothes, and then we would all head out for Eid prayer. We met all our neighbors and family, and I would show off my pretty outfit, "Abu got it for me!" In every house we went to, the savein tasted just slightly different. But I have yet to eat un-delicious savein. The thin noodle-like whey floating in boiled and sweetened milk with puffed up raisins and nuts was its own kind of heaven.

And then of course there was Eidi.

Eidi has a special meaning. Whether the adults are on good terms or not, whether you’re related or not, whether you've ever met before or not - none of it mattered when it came to Eidi. Regardless of everything else, adults gave children Eidi. It didn't matter who the adult was or who the child was. It didn't matter if it was a crisp new one dollar bill, or an enticing five dollar bill. All that mattered was that it was Eidi. It was a gift given to the child by an adult to celebrate the day of Eid.

And it's always special. I can still remember all the people that gave me Eidi from my first memory of Eid to now. When I was younger I would say "No, it's ok," because I was shy about taking anyone else's money but my parent's. But the adults would give a hearty laugh at my reply, un-curl my hand and place the money there while patting my head.

Eidi, hugs, mehndi, new clothes, savein, early morning Eid prayer - all make for just beautiful memories.

Unfortunately, I don’t think kids nowadays get to have as lovely memories of their Eid as I have.

You see, just like children remember all the kind, big-hearted adults that give us Eidi, children also remember the people who do not give them Eidi.

I saw adults with a stack of bills in their hands actually turn away from kids they did not want to give Eidi to. I heard these adults literally say “Where are the children? I don’t even see the children.” They said this in front of other children. There were plenty of children. They just didn’t see the ones they were specifically looking for. And boy, did those kiddos notice. Little faces drooped with confusion and hurt. I felt like I could read their minds "How come I don't get Eidi?" but of course, they would never ask in person.

I saw adults pick and choose the children they gave Eidi to, in front of other children. Not cool. That's just hurtful.

Just seeing that made my heart pang, I don't even want to think of how the little children that were noticeably ignored felt.

I didn't think I would have anything to criticize on Eid of all days, but what do you do when blatant acts of discrimination happen in front of you?

That's exactly what it was too, pure discrimination.

You know, I realize that the economy sucks, and we're all trying to save money, etc. etc.

But it's Eid.

Eid.

Eid is supposed to be the exception. After all, if we can spend money on our new clothes, and shoes, and bags, and everything else, than why not pass out a few bucks to make a child happy?

Seriously, even one dollar handed to a child with a smile makes the Eid special between that adult and that child.

In the same manner, turning away from a child without handing them anything, but clearly stating that you are looking for other children to give money to, makes the Eid a hurtful one.

It's a repulsive act quite frankly.

The damage done: the child was hurt on Eid, the child will remember the adult for that hurt (their discrimination and un-giving nature), the adult saved a few bucks.

Was it worth it?

Because that does not sound like it was worth it to me.

And you know what's even worse? These adults who specifically selected kids to receive Eidi, their children were not discriminated against.

There was a line that was formed, and all the kids passed through this line receiving Eidi. Family member's children, relative's children, friend's children, in-law's children, all walked through and received Eidi from, get this, 6 adults.

That's it.

Of all the families that were there, of all the 30plus adults, not even half were at the front of that line. 6 adults, which consisted of my father (who I am very proud for his open heart and hand), Sarwat, Ayesha, Shaulkut, Farqunda, and Farhana (excuse me for just using first names and not whole titles in this blog), while their own children were discriminated against by other adults in getting Eidi.

These six adults gave Eidi to every single child and young adult that passed through that line, whether it was one dollar, two dollars, or five. It didn't matter to them whose child it was, or how their relation was with the child's parents. All that mattered to them was that it was Eid, and Eid meant giving Eidi to children.

All those kids that passed through that line now have a positive perspective of these adults. When their parents ask who gave them Eidi, the children will think of these adults.

And then, they will think of the adults that turned away from them to avoid giving them Eidi.

In the afternoon, when the kids sat to count their Eidi, I saw how little their faces got when they counted their earnings and realized how little they got in spite of the number of adults that were there.

Children shouldn't have bitter-sweet memories like this of Eid.

Like I said, I know the economy sucks, but Eid is the one day that you’re supposed to make an exception for.

Well, we can’t go back in the past and change anything. I just really, really hope this doesn’t ever happen again. I want Eid memories for all the children to be good ones. Eid is a day of celebration. Celebration means happy (it's supposed to in my book anyways). Therefore, children should be happy on this day of celebration.

I loved Eid as a child, and I still do. I love getting my clothes ready, getting our house ready. I love staying up late and putting mehndi on all the girls’ hands. I love waking up early for Eid prayer, and then meeting everyone for food and hugs and pictures and Eidi. And I want all the growing children to love Eid and all it has to offer as well.

I hope that next year, all the adults that screwed up this time put in a greater effort to make Eid especially spectacular next time. I think they owe it to the kids.

Eid rant. I swear, I didn’t think it was possible. And yet, here is my completed entry to contradict that.