Imagine the most wonderful time of the year. Now double that to twice a year and you’ll have Eid.
Muslims celebrate Eid-al-Adha at the end of the first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah, the holiest days in the Islamic calendar. (This Eid is not to be confused with the earlier Eid-ul-Fitr, marking the end of Ramadan.)
This festival celebrates the achievement of Muslims who have completed Hajj (pilgrimage to the holy site Makkah).
Eid-al-Adha also signifies Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) sacrificing his son to God, which was substituted with cattle. Every Muslim household thus reenacts this by feeding meat to the poor (a charitable act known as Qurbani).
Sacrifice also goes beyond the literal ritual, as we are spiritually encouraged to give up our worldly desires in pursuit of a higher purpose.
Since the religious holiday is calculated by the lunar calendar, it can be a bit tricky for everyone globally to agree on the exact date, no matter how accurate telescopes have become.
Hence one never-ending Eid tradition includes the nefarious crescent moon sighting debates.
What fascinates me as young Muslim born in Britain, is how my family in Pakistan (where my heritage lies) always celebrates Eid a day later than the rest of us.
Being a minority in a Western country, the working week doesn’t naturally leave Muslims a bank holiday break. Yet Islam encourages us not to work on Eid and many have argued that it advocates for a momentary break from the chains of capitalism.
Growing up, my school and university exams often coincided with Eid, which was rarely accommodated for.
Whilst Eid would normally be a national commotion in Pakistan, Muslims born here often must find our own ways to build community and celebrate.
My preparations always involve staying up late, frantically decorating the house with lights and adorning our hands with intricate mehndi (henna) the night before Eid (known as Chaand raat, ‘night of the moon’).
My family, like many, attend the Mosque to perform Eid prayer. Post-lockdown there’s been a surge of these prayers taking place in parks, usually accompanied by a funfair for the whole family to enjoy!
Praying outside is sunnah (prophetically encouraged) as you are surrounded by the beauty of nature and in awe of Allah's (God’s) creations.
Islam is a religion that unites people from every corner of the globe (with Muslim-majority countries situated in Arabia, Asia, Africa and Europe) for one purpose – to worship Allah.
London, being a diversity hotspot, paints an exquisite sight of cultural clothes in an array of vibrant colors every Eid. I myself wear Pakistani embroidered shalwar kameez, bangles and a dupatta (shawl).
Not only are Eid clothes glamorous, but the aromas of fresh food flavours sifting through the air create a delightful fusion. I’ve enjoyed my mum’s mouth-wateringly famous Biryani, alongside various other cultures’ foods, ranging from the Somalis’ bur to the Arabs’ dolma.
While everyone celebrates Eid differently, I visit my cousins’ house for a good laugh over even more food (rice, kebabs, and various salans , curries). For dessert we devour delicious dishes from both sides of our identities - a Pakistani Keer (rice pudding) and an English trifle.
Following the inevitable food-coma, we gather in a huge circle for ‘present time’ or Eidi (gifting of money) which was always my favourite tradition growing up!
I treasure Eid for reminding me life is short, so we must make the most of our time with family and do good for the sake of Allah.
