The hell that is Eid
Today is the second day of Eid. Today the extent of my parents social life becomes evident…it seems anybody who has ever met ammi and abbu can never forget them. He/she finds it necessary to pay homage to them every eid, to bask in my mother’s wonderful interpersonal skills and to listen with awe to my father’s wonderful assessment of the political and economic situation of the world at large; while I run back and forth from the kitchen to the living room dragging a trolley full of whatever-I-could-find-in-the-cupboard or a tray of tea. I can’t stand visitors on Eid day. Or rather, I like visitors but if they come intermittently, giving me breathing space of an hour or so. This steady trickle is very very disturbing. I often forget what conversation I was having with whom, if I find time to actually carry out a conversation.
My inter-personal skills are zilch. I only realize the right thing to say twenty minutes after I should have said it.
I’ve had ten minutes to type this out. Ten minutes for myself throughout this day. Here comes somebody else.
I’m praying to God almighty, the Holy Trinity, Satan, any deity or unity or trinity that can grant any sort of prayer that no more ‘mehmaans’ will show up. I’m pooped. The kitchen is spotless, the dishes are all washed, the living room is in order again and if the doorbell rings again I will go mad. At 9:00 I was about to start crying. I’m not social, I don’t like half my relatives and making tea again and again and serving the same things again and again and smiling and saying “asalam u alaikum, eid mubarak!” again and again…monotony, repetition, aaaugh augg augggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can’t stand Eid. People take time to visit relatives they avoid the rest of the year. I’m not that big a hypocrite. There will be no such mess in my life inshaAllah. I’ll spend Eid in the Bahamas if necessary, but I’m not going to go through the misery when I’m independent that I go through now.