Saturday, January 22, 2005
Eid Mubarak!
Eid Mubarak to the world.
It seems rather out of place to blog during Eid holidays, and not write about Eid. Eid in the UAE, as I had mentioned somewhere else earlier, used to be a not-much-day. There were no relatives to visit, or to be visited by, or to collect Eidi from. But, perhaps what made it all the more boring was that in my childhood, and that feels like ages ago - which actually it was, Eid used to fall in summers. Summer automatically translates into staying indoors, and watching TV during the day, and going out and visiting a few family friends in the evening.
Sure, you woke up, and went for the Eid prayers with Abbuji, and the brats; and you got back home to that peck on the forehead from Manji, and you pestered your sister, and you had your sheer-khorma. But then, you finished all that by 9:00 a.m. and then you had nothing else to do until the evening - except watch TV, which by the way did not offer as many options as it does today, given that all you had was two channels, and only one ran anything in the morning, and that one was in arabic. You practically had nothing to watch after the rusoom-ul-mutaharrika - arabic for cartoons, literally meaning moving drawings, were over. Unless of course, you enjoyed live transmissions of camel racing.
Eid used to be fun in Pakistan, with someone or the other coming by, and you not confined to indoors by the oppressive heat. The added perk of your pockets bulging with Eidi always came in handy.
Whenever I sit back and think about these things, and realize how much better I have it today as a grown-up, I wonder just what it is about childhood that makes people nostalgic. You need permission to do anything that is fun, and you hardly ever get permission to do anything that is fun. Even if you do get permission to do something you had asked permission for, you are categorically barred from doing the fun aspect of that activity. You are confined to indoors when it is raining, when it is hot, when it is cold, and when it is not raining. If you do get to go outdoors, you are supervised. You can't play your music loud, and there is always that darned homework you are threatened with - it never matters if you have already finished your homework, because you can always be made to write out pages and pages of khushkhati - handwriting practice.
Which reminds me, of all the things you hated, you hated khushkhati the most. The verdict on what was right or wrong was entirely subjective, in that you had never got it right, until Manji said you had. Now, one always felt, and one is entitled to one's skepticism, that Manji never gave you the nod until it was way too late to watch cartoons on the second of those two afore-mentioned channels, or call up a friend, or do anything but go to bed. I am reminded of evening after evening I had spent agonizing over 'Jeem' or 'Meem' or 'Laam' or 'Choti yay', or getting my 'y's and 'g's right....
Alhamdu Lillah, as a grown up, I can write as bad as I do everyday, and still just grab my car keys, and wife-permitting go out for a spin in the airconditioned coolness of my car.
Anyway, coming to the current Eid, its been great so far. Especially so because of the lovely, lovely weather. It had started raining just about the time I was finalizing my last update. It kept on drizzling off and on after that, and the sun has been, thankfully if I may add, staying indoors. The sky is filled with clouds, and even when there are no clouds, there is a nice grey sky as far as one can see. There is a mild chill in the breeze, and despite my sinus issues, and extreme intolerance of cold weather, I step out from time to time without any warm article of clothing on, lest it take something away from enjoying this weather, and take some deep breaths.
Wifey and some others have been complaining about the weather, and I look at them with wonder. In this land of four seasons viz., hot, very hot, humid and very hot, and pleasantly warm, I fail to understand how anyone could complain about a weather that borders on cold. Just how often do you get this luxury here? Give me this drizzling, these clouds, this grey sky, the muddy outdoors anyday over that scorching sun /airconditioned indoors. I will gladly opt for the former set of variables instead of that agonizing latter combination 365 days a year.
The first day was thus spent offering thanks to Allah for grounding sun. It had been a bad star for so many days, blowing hot and not cold. Lunch was an assortment of mutton delicacies with minimal bread to go with them. In the evening Jalali Baba landed at out kuttiya with his family, and the place suddenly became a city in itself. The ladies were in the kitchen, the boys busy ensuring the children's toys were strategically placed all over the house with special emphasis on the toys being equidistant from each other. The younger ladies were supervising the on-goings, and yours truly was basking in the unsolicited expert opinion of Jalali Baba on the benefits of spending a rainy day in the hilly domains of Hatta.
It was after much pleading that I was able to deter him from delving into the fun-filled details of their few hours at the Sharjah National Park, lest wifey over-heard a line or two and came after me with the saucepan for having slept through the day, while 'so many' people were out having fun on the holiday. My joy was short-lived though, as I overheard Mrs. Jalali Baba in the kitchen sharing just how much fun the family had had in their few hours at the SNP. I found myself lamenting the fact that there were still two days to go before office began.
Ah well, enough of my ramblings....
*steps out to take deep breaths once again*
¶ 1/22/2005 01:16:00 AM
It seems rather out of place to blog during Eid holidays, and not write about Eid. Eid in the UAE, as I had mentioned somewhere else earlier, used to be a not-much-day. There were no relatives to visit, or to be visited by, or to collect Eidi from. But, perhaps what made it all the more boring was that in my childhood, and that feels like ages ago - which actually it was, Eid used to fall in summers. Summer automatically translates into staying indoors, and watching TV during the day, and going out and visiting a few family friends in the evening.
Sure, you woke up, and went for the Eid prayers with Abbuji, and the brats; and you got back home to that peck on the forehead from Manji, and you pestered your sister, and you had your sheer-khorma. But then, you finished all that by 9:00 a.m. and then you had nothing else to do until the evening - except watch TV, which by the way did not offer as many options as it does today, given that all you had was two channels, and only one ran anything in the morning, and that one was in arabic. You practically had nothing to watch after the rusoom-ul-mutaharrika - arabic for cartoons, literally meaning moving drawings, were over. Unless of course, you enjoyed live transmissions of camel racing.
Eid used to be fun in Pakistan, with someone or the other coming by, and you not confined to indoors by the oppressive heat. The added perk of your pockets bulging with Eidi always came in handy.
Whenever I sit back and think about these things, and realize how much better I have it today as a grown-up, I wonder just what it is about childhood that makes people nostalgic. You need permission to do anything that is fun, and you hardly ever get permission to do anything that is fun. Even if you do get permission to do something you had asked permission for, you are categorically barred from doing the fun aspect of that activity. You are confined to indoors when it is raining, when it is hot, when it is cold, and when it is not raining. If you do get to go outdoors, you are supervised. You can't play your music loud, and there is always that darned homework you are threatened with - it never matters if you have already finished your homework, because you can always be made to write out pages and pages of khushkhati - handwriting practice.
Which reminds me, of all the things you hated, you hated khushkhati the most. The verdict on what was right or wrong was entirely subjective, in that you had never got it right, until Manji said you had. Now, one always felt, and one is entitled to one's skepticism, that Manji never gave you the nod until it was way too late to watch cartoons on the second of those two afore-mentioned channels, or call up a friend, or do anything but go to bed. I am reminded of evening after evening I had spent agonizing over 'Jeem' or 'Meem' or 'Laam' or 'Choti yay', or getting my 'y's and 'g's right....
Alhamdu Lillah, as a grown up, I can write as bad as I do everyday, and still just grab my car keys, and wife-permitting go out for a spin in the airconditioned coolness of my car.
Anyway, coming to the current Eid, its been great so far. Especially so because of the lovely, lovely weather. It had started raining just about the time I was finalizing my last update. It kept on drizzling off and on after that, and the sun has been, thankfully if I may add, staying indoors. The sky is filled with clouds, and even when there are no clouds, there is a nice grey sky as far as one can see. There is a mild chill in the breeze, and despite my sinus issues, and extreme intolerance of cold weather, I step out from time to time without any warm article of clothing on, lest it take something away from enjoying this weather, and take some deep breaths.
Wifey and some others have been complaining about the weather, and I look at them with wonder. In this land of four seasons viz., hot, very hot, humid and very hot, and pleasantly warm, I fail to understand how anyone could complain about a weather that borders on cold. Just how often do you get this luxury here? Give me this drizzling, these clouds, this grey sky, the muddy outdoors anyday over that scorching sun /airconditioned indoors. I will gladly opt for the former set of variables instead of that agonizing latter combination 365 days a year.
The first day was thus spent offering thanks to Allah for grounding sun. It had been a bad star for so many days, blowing hot and not cold. Lunch was an assortment of mutton delicacies with minimal bread to go with them. In the evening Jalali Baba landed at out kuttiya with his family, and the place suddenly became a city in itself. The ladies were in the kitchen, the boys busy ensuring the children's toys were strategically placed all over the house with special emphasis on the toys being equidistant from each other. The younger ladies were supervising the on-goings, and yours truly was basking in the unsolicited expert opinion of Jalali Baba on the benefits of spending a rainy day in the hilly domains of Hatta.
It was after much pleading that I was able to deter him from delving into the fun-filled details of their few hours at the Sharjah National Park, lest wifey over-heard a line or two and came after me with the saucepan for having slept through the day, while 'so many' people were out having fun on the holiday. My joy was short-lived though, as I overheard Mrs. Jalali Baba in the kitchen sharing just how much fun the family had had in their few hours at the SNP. I found myself lamenting the fact that there were still two days to go before office began.
Ah well, enough of my ramblings....
*steps out to take deep breaths once again*
¶ 1/22/2005 01:16:00 AM
