The Express Tribune

It was the second day of Eidul Fitr. My khala was visiting us with her husband and three kids; two boys (15-year-old and 13-year-old) and a 10-year-old girl. I, on the other hand, was five-years-old at that time. These are the characters that are directly and indirectly related to the ultimate magic trick. I remember all of them and all of us sitting near a gas heater, bonding away like families do over such occasions. My mother, with my three-year-old sister sleeping in her lap, and my khala were discussing family issues, while my father was convincing my khalu to join him in his business and how much more a business can offer these days as compared to a nine to five job. My khala’s daughter was sitting quietly in a corner. Her eldest son was sitting with me while the younger one went to explore the Eid festivities going on outside. As we were all enjoying the chilly evening weather, the doorbell rang and my phupho along with her husband came to pay us the traditional Eid visit. With the crowd increasing, everyone decided to depart towards the living room; the men started off with their ‘men talk’ and the women with their regular chit chat. My mother, after placing my sister in bed, went into the kitchen to fix some tea and snacks. My cousin and I were the only ones left in the room. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he told me that he is a magician and knows how to do some great magic tricks. I, like a charmed child, got excited by the mere sound of the word ‘magic’. He told me that he possesses power over material objects and has the ability to transform soft objects into hard form and vice versa. I was a curious child and the thought of witnessing a magical transformation amazed me. He folded his hand and pointed his index finger towards me, and said that with his great magic power he is going to make his index finger as soft as cotton. I could not contain my excitement. He got up, closed the door and turned off the light. I tried to run away but he grabbed me. I told him to switch the lights back on because I was scared of the dark. He gave me a warm smile and explained that his magic trick will only work in the dark. With the conviction of his words, I agreed to stay, but only if he would hurry up with his magic trick. The room was dark and the only vibrant green light was glowing out of my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle watch. I was anxious and wanted him to start the magic trick. He made me lie down on the couch besides him under a blanket and asked me to hold his finger and close my eyes. I simply followed. He then asked me to feel the finger and I did as I was told. I told him that it was still hard and bony. He asked me to keep my eyes tightly shut as the magic trick was about to start. A fear crept up in my heart as quickly as it vanished. I could feel something very soft in my hands. I told him, with a tint of excitement in my voice, that the magic trick was working. He asked me to hold the soft finger tightly and feel it from every angle to make sure that every part of it was soft. I grabbed his soft finger in both hands and felt it from top to bottom and made sure that he is not lying. He really was a magician, I thought, he did actually transform his hard bony finger into a soft boneless finger. Soon after, I got bored and told him I wanted to leave. He stopped me and asked me to wait for the second part of the trick, where he will magically convert his soft finger back to its hard form. By this point, I was bored because I was only allowed to touch the soft finger and not see it. I didn’t want to be there for the second part but because he was being really polite, I decided to stay. I was told to hold his soft finger for four to five minutes and then suddenly, I could feel his soft finger turning hard in my hands. I was lost in wonder and excitement. My young heart could not fathom how he managed to do it. The magic trick really worked, I thought in excitement. I smiled at bhai jan, thanked him for generously showing me his magic trick and for choosing me from amongst all the other kids around to witness the trick.

As happens quite frequently now, my mind and heart tend to gravitate towards the next writing mission for the Karachi-Houston diaries. In fact, just the other day I thought to myself,

“Perhaps you should take a break from writing a new entry. It is, afterall, a break from work too.”

But as always, the muse intervened,

“Write comparatively about festivities in Karachi and Houston.”

And as always, the muse won. I have found ritual celebrations interesting to observe. Bari Eid (Eidul Azha) with its sacrifice of animals and meat consumption is a case in point. The ritual is not about the day itself; family members, males for the most part, enthusiastically promote touring the animal bazaar a few days prior to Eid. As Eid approached, one day a cousin of mine said excitedly,

“We’ve got to pick the choicest goat!”

That seemed to be a valid aspiration – for him. On further discussion, I learnt from him the factors that mattered most in purchasing the ‘choicest goat’. Price, of course, was a major consideration but as important were other factors such as the sub-species, number of animals the neighbours were buying, voice of the ill-fated animal, number of equally ill-fated siblings of the animal present in the bazaar, the city or more likely, the village of the animal’s origin (akin to human ethnicity perhaps), colour of its fur, size of its testicles, its age, physique, pedigree of parents and so forth. However, there was one characteristic that intrigued me the most and made me feel deprived at being unable to select and purchase goats in real time over the past 15 years that I had been living in Houston. And this was the number of front teeth visible when the goat’s upper lip was raised slightly. Apparently the two-toothed goat tasted better than the three-toothed one. I was told that this feature was most important in the selection process. In all these years I had obviously not learned this crucial discriminating potential that vouched for the quality of the meat. I made a mental note to myself so that next time I went to the market, I would not make the mistake of compromising on goat meat for my family, irrespective of the customary pomp. My children had already had their fill after day one of the Bari Eid celebration in Karachi. There had been some entertainment value in hearing and observing the sacrificial animals in the playground that the children might have otherwise considered playing in. Even though some of the animals had been resplendently decked up as brides and paraded around in the playground prior to appearing on people’s plates, the novelty of observing the festivity in Karachi lost its appeal for the children as quickly as it had phased itself in. Although the children’s excitement was short-lived, I think Eid in Karachi is more memorable than it used to be in Houston. All we do there is pay for the meat at a butcher’s store; the entire process seems lacklustre and sterile in retrospect as compared to selecting, developing an attachment to, and then sacrificing the animal in Karachi - notwithstanding the goriness of the process, of course. We had naively assumed that by week 12 of relocation from Houston to Karachi, we would be relaxed and settling in our new home. That it happened to coincide with a ritualistic holiday was perhaps not all that surprising since it was going to provide something to ramble about later on. The lack of any ‘R and R’ in the hectic schedule replete with visits of and to family members – often the same ones on multiple occasions during those three days – and meat gourmandising that accompanies the event, was also not that surprising. It was only after observing and participating in the ritual in Karachi after a long time that I realised that the most popular sacrificial animal is still the bakra (goat in Urdu) and the process of sacrificing it is still considered a baraka (blessing in Arabic). An interchanging of two letters is all that it takes – truly uncanny or perhaps, absolutely predictable!

Chand raat of the Meethi Eid — a phrase so nice, you can say it twice! When you read it, doesn’t it sound grand and full of enchanting sweetness? Well, it is. It’s the Eid that doesn’t leave roads drenched in blood and streets full of guts and ripped open stomachs. This is Meethi Eid and the sweetness I essentially indulge in on this grand occasion is staring at girls, left right and centre. Without a shadow of doubt, chand raat is a taroo’s heaven, his Las Vegas and his Raiwind Palace. It all started when I was four-years-old. Word on the street was that a gori ma’am (white lady) had come to visit our village to see the schools and meet the kids. I was dressed up and sent to meet the white lady. What a sight. The moment was amazing, seeing over 300 men just staring at her, regardless of them being Chandio, Afridi, Butt or Lund. All generational rivalries were put aside for a common goal — stare at the gori. From that day onwards, I knew that the only way we can all get along is through shameless staring. I have been an avid stare-r. I started from the nurse who cut the cord, went on to the female teachers in my all-boys school and now, I am proudly known as the sala office ka tharki. Girls give weird and angry looks when they are stared at, but I am pretty sure they secretly like it. Sometimes, when they say: “No… hell no! Get away from me,” what they really mean is, “yes”. This phenomenon is popularly known as ‘playing hard to get’ (take notes guys; I am giving you pearls here). Also, the girls wearing western clothes — jeans and tops — they love it when we stare. The reason they wear those clothes is so that we can stare — they like the attention. Why else would they wear those clothes, right? Back to the event of the year, that is chand raat. My chand raat starts with picking up my friends and then hitting the malls — you know the usual mehndi corners to check out girls while they are all dressed up to get their henna on. Mehndi corners are only for girls and families, so we just stay close to a family, as an attempt to blend in. Some girls come with their boys, who give you the stink eye if you check out their ‘Ras Malai’ (yes, I have actually heard someone call his loved one that). We aim for the girls with families; they are easy prey. Stare at them from afar, make eye-contact when Abu isn’t looking, stay close by, wait till she looks at you, and then…wink! Nine out of 10 times she rejects, but every now and then, a sad, lonely, low-self esteemed girl comes along and she doesn’t slap us. The one that does slap us leaves us wondering how she could do this to us. Following the slap, other taroos seize the opportunity to be seen as her knight in shining armour, become Ajay Devgan from Diljalay and start thrashing me in an attempt to save her ‘honour’. But then again, that is all part of the thrill, as I always say, ‘one has to risk it for the biscuit’. You might have female friends, but my several years’ experience of staring at them has taught me more than you’d ever know about them as friends. I have more knowledge about women than most of the men around. So what if my mom can’t find me a bride because everyone calls me cheap? One day, I will find a girl who eye-to-eyes me and we will tango like Taher Shah’s curls. Yours truly, Taroo (I got my eyes on you, literally) Like Life & Style on Facebook, follow @ETLifeandStyle on Twitter for the latest in fashion, gossip and entertainment.

I received a beautiful gift from a complete stranger. I don’t even know her name. It was the last Friday of Ramazan, so I decided to attend the Dua and khatam-e-Quran at my local mosque. Growing up in Lahore, I had never seen the inside of a mosque in my entire life. So, even after more than a decade of living in America, I have rarely gone to my local mosque as I, perhaps, feel that the mosque is a place where men gather. But that Friday, on my birthday no less, I went. As I prayed jammat with women of all colour and creed, I felt a strange sense of belonging. My heart felt more at peace than it had in a long time. After the first rakat had finished, the woman next to me tapped my elbow and said,

“Sister, can I say something to you?”

I, who had only just begun to not feel like a misfit, became conscious of what I might have done wrong during my prayer for her to call me out. She motioned towards my right arm, which was not completely covered from my dupatta as I wore a half sleeved dress. Pulling my dupatta to cover my arm, I said sheepishly,

“I know…I know.”

But before I could say anything else, she began to pull something out from her full sleeved abaya and gave me a pair of arm stockings, if I may call them that.

“I got these from Jordan,” she said, as she caressed them fondly.

I thanked her profusely and told her I will return these to her as soon as we finish the prayers. An hour later, after the prayer finished, I looked around for her but couldn’t find her anywhere. Another young woman waved at me, walked up and told me that her friend had said to keep the arm covers. I begged her friend to take them back, for I knew they had meant something special to that woman. But her friend insisted that she had been instructed to tell me that I have to keep them. I walked out of the mosque thinking, this is the best birthday gift I have received in a long time. For the last 10 years, I have missed Eid in Pakistan in all its glory. I have missed how the roads are empty every day at iftar for an entire month and then suddenly on chand raat, the whole world seems to spill out onto the streets in celebration. Everywhere you turn there are people, lights, sounds and joy. The shops are open all night, the mehndi stalls and bangles sales are on at full throttle. I miss Eid day, with all its hurried chaos in the morning as the men of the family gather and go for Eid prayers. I miss the celebrations that follow, from breakfast till late night, when one relative after another, one neighbour after another comes to wish you Eid mubarak. I miss the fuss over Eid dresses, which starts even before Ramazan begins. I miss getting Eidi from the elders, I miss putting mehndi on my hands with my sisters and cousins. I miss the fact that everyone knows its Eid. I don’t have to tell anyone,

“It is my religious holiday today.”

I don’t have to go to my children’s school and explain that,

“Today is our version of Christmas, so the kids will be missing school.”

I don’t have to Google the expected Eid date. But even though I haven’t received Eidi for the last 10 years and I haven’t put mehndi on my hands since my kids were born, I have come to realise over the years that Eid in a strange country is not that bad after all. Gathering on Eid day with my fellow Muslims from all over the world, in local mosques, convention centres or national stadiums, despite it not being a national holiday, is an immensely uplifting experience. The idea of Eid is not only to rejoice the end of Ramazan and spend time with those who are exactly like you, but also to come together as believers, forgetting our differences and embracing our humanity, our oneness. I prayed next to a woman from Kohat tonight, wearing the sleeves of a woman from Jordan, as the woman praying in front of me started crying when the imam prayed for Syria where her mother resides. My kids played with other Muslim kids of varying colours and nationalities, as young Muslim women volunteers’ baby sat them. In the first few weeks of Ramazan, all the kids had helped the volunteers prepare free goody bags which were to be distributed after Eid namaz at the celebration that follows, complete with a bounce house, food stalls and women in glittering dresses at eight in the morning. So sitting in a mosque in Southern California, I realised that even though I desperately want to take my kids to Pakistan for Eid one year so they can experience what ‘real’ Eid feels like, maybe I have been experiencing another version of the essence of Eid here all along.

Every evening after iftar they storm the streets in flocks, like contingent troops, with one and only one purpose alone – they want clothes, clothes and more clothes. The women of Pakistan, it seems, have found the reason as to why they were created – they were created to make, buy, sell, maintain, wear, show and love clothes. And this sad obsession is across the board. From lower middle income groups to the elite, they spend big chunks of their valuable time in bazaars and malls, and unanimously spend more than they afford. And Eid season sees this obsessive compulsive behaviour at its peak. But then, can we really blame them? At every turn of the head are billboards of women; beautiful, stick thin, photo shopped women, wearing dresses to kill. The biggest viewership of Pakistan’s thriving morning show industry is women. Millions of Pakistani women, every morning, lap up the mostly unintelligent and fake conversations on these shows and take them as gospel truth. They also absorb each and every attitude and trend being presented by the baajis and even the bhaiyyas who are the hosts. Thus, they have started believing in a culture of collective gushing and adulation of people on the basis of what they wear, not who they are. If they can afford the exact thing the host is wearing (even though hers might is most probably a borrowed dress – one that she will never wear again), they will get it from the same designer. If not, the women will use every ion of creativity God has given them to do jugaar and copy the design, almost flawlessly. Women from the elite have their own issues. They are also obsessed with clothes. Only, the taste (acquired) and the social circles are different. They will kill themselves over clothes that are original, exclusive, subtle and elegant. They may not be as tacky as others and may look down upon other women, and ridicule their showy dress sense, but eventually they are equally consumed with the idea of the “I am what I wear” syndrome. The only difference is, the elite do it in more innovative ways. They make politically and socially correct statements with their clothes if they are the activist types and use pure cottons, vegetable dyes and the works. If the social circle involves kitty parties and the trophy wives club, the style changes considerably. Women see, breathe and dream clothes. It is no wonder then that not only is there a never ending demand for clothes, but also an incessant chain of supply in the form of dress ‘designers’; couture designers who have actually studied the art and also those who become designers by default – because... well it comes naturally to them after thinking about clothes 28 out of 24 hours a day. And then there are those who don’t really design anything but just have a darzi at home in the basement. The problem is not with clothes. The problem is with the shift in values that is coming with it. Slowly but surely it is becoming such a big priority for women that the way they see themselves and others is changing. I noticed this the other day when I caught myself not saying “you look very nice in this dress” to a friend, but saying “your dress is very nice”. The person was taken away from my compliment. All that remained was the dress. If women start viewing themselves in light of the praise their dresses get, they will continue to be preoccupied with their appearance. And this is an expensive preoccupation as well as time-consuming. I know families where a driver is employed for the sole purpose of taking baaji to Ghousia market, Aashiyana and Raabi Centre. Wardrobes are so important to females that in order to make unnecessary clothes that will keep hanging in their closets, untouched for a year, they want to earn and for that, voila, they become dress designers. Being engrossed with clothes to a disturbing extent is an attitude that other women observe. If they cannot afford to do the same, there is an underlying resentment and unhealthy sense of competition in society. The more we raise the bar of our wardrobes, the more the economic disparity in our society. While dressing well and looking good is actually an admirable thing, anything that crosses limits becomes toxic. Overdoing one thing means you will end up under-doing something equally or more important. The time one could spend reading, doing some form of community service, or spending unhurried moments with one’s family is spent getting exhausted, carrying bags and bags of stitched and unstitched fabric, and still worrying whether everyone will like it or not. The next time you exhaust yourself over clothes, stop for a minute and think: Is this really worth it? Women are naturally very good at time-management. And Pakistani women are an amazing potential work force for Pakistan. They are talented, intelligent and hardworking. If the time they put into clothes is utilised for other more productive things, it would make Pakistan a much happier place. The spirit of Ramazan and then Eidul Fitr is all about taking away materialism from our hearts and reviving a culture of simplicity, giving and sharing. It may be time to sit back and rethink what Eid is all about.

I wonder why it’s called Choti Eid. It’s so much cooler than Bari Eid, or any other festival for that matter. Writers’ folklore says that the five elements that comprise a popular story are: religion, mystery, relationships, money and sex. Amazingly, Choti Eid brings all of them to the table. Religion – celebrating a month of abstinence, giving and worship Choti Eid is the culmination of a full month of religiously obligated prayer, restraint and abstinence. It’s been a month that people have been praying more regularly (including taraweeh prayers!), using less abusive language, giving more in charity and generally trying to be better human beings. Some people would argue that driving home in Karachi 30 minutes before iftar can be more dangerous than taking a stroll in Gaza. But I would argue that if you are late for iftar and maghrib prayers begin while you’re on the road, the nearest rehri wala (hawker) will offer you a piece of whatever goodies he’s selling and refuse to accept money for it, which is absolutely wonderful. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Reuters[/caption] Which reminds me, people getting together for iftar is another wonderful religious-cum-cultural tradition that helps foster a sense of community as a precursor to Eid. Friends and family getting together to break their fast is always fun. Okay, I admit things can get a bit awkward when most of the people attack the food at 7:10pm while our Fiqh-e-Jafria brothers have to wait for 7:20pm without trying to look conspicuous, but I say a little awkwardness is a decent price to pay for sectarian harmony. My Shia friends have found a non-awkward solution for this turn up 10 minutes late! And to those who are on their worst behaviour while fasting: it is okay, we understand you were hungry. Enjoy Eid and try harder next Ramazan please. Mystery – chand raat or taraweeh? Choti Eid has always been big on mystery. Thousands of children and their parents go to their rooftops on the 29^th of Ramazan, after maghrib prayers (pakora in one hand and binoculars in the other) to look for the new moon. Will it be Eid tomorrow? Is Mufti Muneebur Rehman in a good mood? God, I hope he didn’t have a fight with his wife today! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Nzaar Ihsan[/caption] What are the Pakhtuns up to? After 67 years, will this be that elusive year in which we have only one Eid throughout Pakistan? Do we go take the girls out for choorian and mehendi or do we go for taraveeh? Will masterjee (tailor) or rangwala (dyer), as the case may be, have my suit/dupatta ready on time? While we respect the concept of 30 rozas and all, one has to admit that nothing beats the exhilaration (and relief) of a chand raat announcement on the evening of the 29^th. And they’re probably right when they say that Satan is locked up during Ramazan, because the moment chand raat is announced, all hell really does break loose! Aunties are running after masterjees for their suits, girls are looking to kill the rangwalas who didn’t get the exact colour on their dupatta, and the neighbourhood boys are manning the choori and mehendi stalls in the hopes that the pretty girls living in the house across the street will visit and ask for their assistance to try on choorian! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: INP/File[/caption] Relationships – chachus, khalas and SMSs With no distractions like bakras or butchers, Choti Eid is all about relationships. Poor people take their children to Minar-e-Pakistan, the rich ones take their families to the golf course, and almost everyone takes their kids to meet their chachus, phupos, khalas and mamoos. The big cities tend to empty out as millions of people travel back to their pind (if you’re from Punjab), mulak (if you are Pathan) or gaon (if you are from anywhere else in Pakistan). There are reports every Eid about the transporters increasing charges before Eid, but hey, doesn’t the bus wala deserve to take his children to the zoo? My personal favourite family ritual is going for namaz on Eid day. Even after 36 years, the routine is exactly the same. 1. I oversleep – my mom bangs the door down. 2. I accompany my brother and cousins to Model Town Park, Lahore, for Eid prayer (something that has changed is the level of security – now we have to navigate through scanners, metal detectors, and snipers at every entrance). 3. We give fitrana on the way in (another change I’ve noticed is in the recipient of the fitrana – a couple of decades ago people would line up to donate to the religious outfits waging war in Kashmir; now the religious parties’ stalls are visibly empty while the number of people lined up at the Shaukat Khanum Hospital, Sahara for Life and other non-religious NGOs is much more). [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Shahbaz Malik/Express[/caption] 4. The maulvi prays to God for everyone’s health, safety, prosperity and asks for our sins to be wiped clean. 5. He then goes on to ask God to liberate Palestine and Kashmir (Chechnya made it into the list during the 1990s but isn’t there anymore, I wonder why). He also prays for the progress of Pakistan and the destruction of Israel and all other enemies of Islam (one of these days I’ll ask him why his dua isn’t working – which my brother thinks is not a very bright idea). 6. Maulvi sahib reminds us of the steps involved in the Eid namaz (it’s a bit tricky). 7. He reminds us that while we are free to do so, we should remember that hugging each other three times while wishing ‘Eid Mubarak’ has nothing to do with Islam. 8. Namaz begins and the person next to me messes up his namaz steps, disorienting us all. A few people start following him and now we have half the row standing up and the other half in rukoo. 9. After namaz, all of us religiously hug everyone else three times regardless of what maulvi sahib had just lectured us about (this is probably the only time of the year when Pakistani men go around smiling and hugging random people... it’s wonderful!) [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Reuters[/caption] 9. On the way out, I wish ‘Eid Mubarak’ to the security guards and snipers at the entrance (this step was added in 2007). 10. We come home to a delicious breakfast, which we are having for the first time in 30 days – I am convinced that this is the best, most tasty meal of the year. And immediately after breakfast, the flood of Eid Mubarak SMSs (of every variety, from religious to loving to funny) begins. Over the years, I’ve realised that I miss Eid cards – the real kind that you would have to go out and buy from the same mohalla stall that sold mehendi and choorian. The ones which you would address to every chachu, khala, phupo and mamoo and spend time remembering their children’s names to make sure nobody was left out. Money Eidi is probably the cornerstone of Choti Eid, especially for the children. Little do they know, if they are below the age of 12, chances are their Eidi will be ‘embezzled’ by the parents to account for the outflow of Eidi to relatives’ and the neighbours’ children. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: AFP[/caption] Fresh crisp notes actually become an industry in the week running up to Eid and immediately after namaz, the entire public workforce (the dakia (mailman), the kachra walay (janitor), the bijli walay (electricians) and the likes) starts turning up at the door to collect Eidi.

“Humari sarak itni saaf tau nahin hoti jitni safai walay Eidi lenay pahunch jatay hein!” my mom always complains.

Sex – no more abstinence! Let’s admit it, between the preparation of iftar, rising early for sehri and other household chores, there is not much going on in the bedroom for a great many couples. Choti Eid brings with it the lifting of all restrictions on copulation and, in many a pind, several bundles of joy. Like I said, with all the elements of a hit story, I wonder why it’s called Choti Eid... it’s so much bigger than any other festival round the year!

Ramazan is finally over! And here we are celebrating Eidul Fitr in the Far East on Monday. Fasting during the peak summer is a real test of one’s faith and endurance. My inquisitive non-Muslim friends often ask me how we, Muslims, survive the long testing hours of fasting without food and water in soaring temperatures. I am not sure they believe me when I tell them that it’s a mix of practice and unconditional faith that makes us get through the tough days of fasting and sleep deprivation. It’s that time of the year when we feast (read: over eat). Eid menus are planned out days in advance, and tons of sweet and savoury delicacies line up the dinner tables and tea trollies. At Ammi’s house, there always was a set menu for Eidul Fitr. For breakfast, we have boiled vermicelli served with hot milk, which Abbu likes having before heading for Eid prayers. Dessert would include either sheer khurma or a dense milky kheer (rice pudding). The tea trolley is decked with savoury spicy chana chaat, which is made every day and served with lemonade or tea, and some gulab jamans. All the guests visiting us on Eid get to enjoy all of these delicacies, meaning Ammi would prepare them in large quantities. For lunch, there would be pulao, kofta curry (nargasi kofta), some special chicken dish of Ammi’s and haleem, which has always been a non-negotiable dish for lunch and is prepared a day ahead of Eid. I don’t remember eating nargasi koftas much at home since they were only prepared on special occasions or for some special guests. And so, today, I will be sharing my recipe of nargisi koftas that fits the occasion of Eid perfectly and makes your feast whole. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="595"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] Ingredients: Koftas: To be made a day before Minced beef – ½ kilogram Chickpea lentil (channa daal) – ½ cup (soaked overnight) Garlic – 5 to 6 cloves Ginger – 1 (2 inches) Onion – 1 medium-sized (chopped) Green chillies – 2 medium-sized (chopped) Water – 1½ cup Salt – 1 tsp Eggs – 11 (8 hard boiled and 1 for coating) Oil – 1 cup (for deep frying) Dry spices: Whole cloves – 8 Whole black peppercorn – 10 Cinnamon stick – 1 Black cardamom – 2 Cumin seeds – 1 tsp heaped Coriander seeds – 1 tsp heaped Whole dried red chillies – 3 [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="595"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] Curry: Onions – 3 large (diced) Tomatoes – 2 medium-sized (diced) Ginger/garlic paste – 1 tsp Water – 3½ cups Yogurt – 1/3 cup Oil – 6 tbsp Dry Spices: Cumin seeds – 1 tsp heaped and crushed Coriander seeds – 1 tsp heaped and crushed Whole black peppercorn – 6 Cloves – 5 Black cardamom – 1 Green cardamom pods – 3 Cinnamon stick – 1 [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="595"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] Method for koftas: 1. Dry roast all the dry spices and grind them in a spice mill. 2. Add minced beef, chickpea lentil, garlic, ginger, onion, one green chilli, grounded spices, salt and water in a pan. Cook it over medium heat for 45 minutes till the water dries up and the lentil is fully cooked. Set aside and let it cool down completely. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] 3. Add the cooked minced meat into a food processor. Add two uncooked eggs and one medium green chilli, and grind everything finely. Store the mixture in a sealed container and leave it in the fridge overnight. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] 4. Next day, wrap eight hard boiled eggs in the minced meat mixture. 5. Coat the koftas with a lightly beaten egg and deep fry on high heat. 6. Brown the koftas carefully. While frying, do not touch them unless needed as they can crumble and break. Once fried, remove pan and lay them onto some kitchen paper. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] Method for curry: 1. Heat three tablespoons of oil in a pan and fry diced onions till translucent. Add ginger/garlic paste and cook for one minute. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] 2. Add diced tomatoes and cook for two minutes on high heat. Add a cup of water and let it come to a boil. 3. Blend the onion and tomatoes mixture into a fine paste in a liquidiser. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] 4. Heat the remaining three tablespoons of oil in the same pan and fry the dry spices. 5. Add the liquidised mixture into the pan. Cook until all the water dries up and oil comes out on the sides. Cover the pan as the water starts to vaporise. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] 6. Add yogurt and cook till the water from the yogurt dries up. 7. Add two and a half cups of water and let it come to a boil. Lower the heat and let it simmer till oil floats on the top. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] Ladle the hot curry in a serving dish. Cut the fried koftas in half and arrange them in the curry. Garnish with fresh coriander and serve with homemade flat bread – chappati or naan. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="590"] Photo: Ambreen Malik[/caption] Eid Mubarak to everyone back home! Please don’t forget to include the less fortunate ones in our festivities and in particular, remember the displaced people of North Waziristan as Pakistan fights the battle for its survival. Let’s hope that tomorrow will be a better day! This post originally appeared here.

What do we usually end up doing on Eid? Go for Eid parties? Hang out with friends or spend lazy afternoons on our couch flipping through the oh-so-unbearable Eid transmission programs? We spend all of our Eidi on ordering food or going out with friends. Well, what if I told you that there are better things you could do with your time and Eidi this Eid? All of us think of doing something noble throughout the year but never actually do it, under the pretence that we don’t have the time or the resources for it. Well, why not try it out this Eid? Not only will it help make the occasion more meaningful for yourself, but it will also help you utilise your Eidi in a much better fashion. Some of you might question why on earth you would want to spend your Eidi on something that doesn’t benefit you directly? But trust me, a random act of kindness can take you a long way. Since it’s all about practise what you preach, here is my story: Back in 2008, my siblings and I decided to do something to make our Eid more purposeful. After a suggestion or two, we decided to visit the Sindh Institute of Urology and Transplantation (SIUT) to celebrate Eid with children in the paediatric ward. Not only was the visit surreal, it was immensely fulfilling. It was wonderful to see the little faces brighten up and the adorable smiles made our hearts melt. After that one visit, my siblings and I decided to do the same every year. So every year we buy presents, snacks and juices depending on the amount of funds we collect throughout the year and then surprise those little children with all sorts of goodies. And each year brings with it a different experience, a different child, a different smile and a different kind of fulfilment. The feeling is irreplaceable. All of this might sound like a difficult endeavour to a lot of people out there, but trust me, all it needs is a will to do something meaningful with your Eidi and a little bit of time. However, if you feel charity is not your cup of tea, then there are other ways in which you can make better use of your Eidi too. 1. Be the cause of their smile Do you know of an orphanage or an old-house near your house? If you don’t, visit Darul Sukun or the Edhi Home. Spend some time with those who have no one to share their happiness with this Eid. If you think you need a lot of money to get a gift for each one of them, buy a box of mithai and give each one of them a hug. Listen to their stories because all they want is someone to talk to. Crack jokes and play antakshri with them. Make them smile, even if it’s just for a day. 2. Plan an Eid milan party I’m sure each of us at some point or the other despised those Eid milan parties that our schools hosted. Well, some never really got a chance to even have one. Visit the nearest underprivileged school in your area and organise a small party for them. Decorate the place, get them snacks, play some games and, sing and dance with them. Ask a friend who has a DSLR to accompany you and take pictures with those little angels. 3. Do something for the Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) Collect all the funds that you can and send donations or packages for the IDPs of North Waziristan. They need those resources more than we do and it will turn out to be a productive use of your Eidi. If we don’t even help them on an occasion like Eid, then what’s the point of this celebration? Would you be able to enjoy Eid if you knew your sister or brother was stuck in some remote camp in the country? I didn’t think so. Just try it once and make sure you hand it over to a reliable NGO or relief camp. 4. Get someone an Eid outfit You can help your maid, her children or her siblings, look and feel good by giving them an outfit to wear on Eid. You can even make a tantalising delicacy and send it for your maid’s children because they never really get a chance to eat a chargha or a lasagne, even on Eid. 5. Awareness campaigns You are educated and it is a blessing. If you know more than others, it is a blessing of Allah. Make use of your knowledge, money and time to start an awareness campaign. Gather a few friends, make a team, contribute all your Eidi, get a banner made in advance and visit the nearest slum. Help educate the poor about social issues, talk about the importance of cleanliness, help them clean their neighbourhood, motivate them to send their children to school or talk to them about the importance of polio. Take up any issue that needs to be discussed and is in dire need of some attention. Spend some time with them and teach them something by spreading awareness. They have time and you have time; why not make the best of it? 6. Charity If your Eid plans include nothing but your bed and scrumptious homemade food, then the least you can do is donate your Eidi to a charity foundation. A good deed with little or no effort. 7. Take your parents out for dinner Give your mother a break from all the cooking and cleaning this Eid. Spend some quality time with your family and use your Eidi to take them out for a nice dinner to a fancy restaurant that they’ve been talking about for so long. If I were to go with the option of spending my Eidi on my parents, I would take them to a spa and pay for an exquisite massage therapy. Trust me, parents always need that. You can also buy something for your grandparents as well. Get their reading glasses repaired or buy them their favourite book. They’ll love it. 8. Make your younger sister or brother feel special If you have younger siblings, give them Eidi even if they are only a year younger than you. Take them out for some dessert, watch a movie together or buy them a money box and inculcate the habit of saving money. Make them understand the culture of giving and rejoicing in someone else’s happiness. 9. Invest your money If you have accumulated a great amount of Eidi, there are two possible ways that you can use it – either you can spend it all while partying with friends, on food and what not, or you can be smart about it and invest the money somewhere. Buy some gold, a few prize bonds, dollars or some shares from the stock market and reap the benefits of a wise decision for a longer time. 10. Pamper yourself Save all your Eidi and buy something big for yourself that you have always wanted to get. Hold on! I don’t mean a branded HSY or any other designer dress. Buy something that you need – an asset. Buy a smart phone if you don’t have one. Buy a wallet if you recently got mugged. Get your laptop repaired if you need to. Buy yourself a book you always wanted to read. It should be something long-lasting and useful. We took an initiative and we love doing it every Eid. When we visit those children every year and make them smile, it makes our Eid even more beautiful and joyous. So take an initiative this Eid. Make a difference, if not for society on the whole, do it for your family or for your own self at the least. Celebrate and enjoy the feasts but do not forget the underprivileged. They say money can’t buy happiness. But I believe if you have all the money in the world and you are not happy, then you are not spending it properly. The fact that you are able to read this blog makes you more blessed than many others, so share your blessings with others.

Khushiyan baatne se bardhti hein! (Happiness increases when spread around)

Eid Mubarak everyone!

So finally Ramazan has come to an end and our very own meethi Eid (aka Eidul Fitr) is here! Although there are some of us who despise the endless train of Eid visitors, some of us anticipate the various... amusing moments that are bound to arise during these holidays. Here are 11 moments that signify Eidul Fitr’s arrival: 1. The looney lunar: Many people are sleep deprived on Eid. Why, you ask? Well, what else can you expect when the announcement of Eid is sprung on you at the eleventh hour, courtesy of the Ruet-e-Hilal Committee? Pakistanis, by habit, leave quite a few important things to the last minute and so this announcement is of the utmost importance to us. It is when this announcement is made that we scramble out of our slumber and run hither-dither trying to get our last minute shopping done. And then, of course, there are the chand raat celebrations which we must most definitely take part in. So again, you ask the reason behind why we look like we cried the night before? This is it. 2. Gluttony: The night before Eid, you believe that you have actually lost weight and will maintain this for the rest of the year. This was what you wanted. You wanted to lose weight and then comes Eid with all its deliciousness and that resolution goes down the drain as soon as we hit the breakfast table. In my opinion, we are known to eat more on the three days of Eid than we do throughout the month of Ramazan because there is So. Much. Food! [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] 3. To drink or not to drink: I am not sure how many of us go through this, but the fear of mistakenly drinking or eating something during Ramazan sticks around for a few days (hours for some) after the last roza (fast). In my case, I end up giving myself a mini heart-attack after sipping a cold glass of water in the afternoon on Eid day. Don’t worry; you’ll need time to get out of your ‘fast’ lane. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"] Photo: Giphy.com[/caption] 4. That filial duty: When our parents ask us to visit distant relatives at any other time of the year, we feel no shame in a blatant refusal. However, on Eid, it is us reminding them about their not-so-filial duties because you never know who hands that envelope full of crisp notes. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"] Photo: Mashable[/caption] 5. Holier than thou much: All those who scrutinise our every move to find a reason to shame us suddenly drop their Ramazan cloaks and are ready to rumble! Now they are are free to admire Humaima Malick’s new dance. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="162"] Photo: Funnyjunk.com[/caption] 6. Tailor woes: Need to get that last minute peeko on your dupatta done or one of your sleeves is somehow shorter than the other? The innumerable curses upon the tailor continue once the roza has ended. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] 7. Last minute shopping: Dress? Check. Shoes? Check. Jewellery? Check. Bangles? Oh Crap. Someone get the car out. Now! [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="280"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] 8. Those dreaded hugs: Eid is one occasion in which 'hugging' suddenly becomes okay. But really, what is the point of the three hugs? Aren't we confused enough already with two or one kisses dilemma that now we need to figure out the amount of times we need to hug? How about a little less action and a little more conversation, please? [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] 9. Eidi-flation: That moment when you feel like telling your rich relatives about the height of inflation when they hand you that hundred rupee note. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"] Photo: Giphy.com[/caption] 10. Never ending questions: Unable to strike a conversation? These relatives know how to make you talk. From “why are you working?” to “when are you getting married?”, the question-answer session this Eid is going to be grueling and unforgiving. And the relatives do it with such aplomb; they will ask you anything under the sky, without much thought or hesitation. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="250"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] 11. The table-talkers: Serving guests who start their discussion with the essence of Ramazan being about patience and ending with the doom of Pakistanis for not being Arab enough, while incessantly asking you to pass the bowl of Sheer Khurma. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="250"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] Eid is essentially all about sharing joy and happiness with the people you love, including family and friends (even if some of them are killjoys), because a few hours won’t hurt so much now, will they? And while we are blessed to celebrate the occasion, let’s spare some time for those less fortunate and remember not to take Eid for granted. And most importantly, Eid Mubarak!

For me, there can’t be an Eid without the ravishingly delicious Kheer – the ultimate sweet indulgence. A new twist to this traditional delight will surely bring a smile to your lips and, while the tongue revels in its milky glory, its creamy decadence will keep you entranced and craving for more. Food aficionados like me are fascinated by the Mughals who brought their rich, aromatic food culture, and thereby refined cooking to an art form. The exotic use of spices, dried fruits and nuts makes Mughlai cuisine undeniably unique in style. Extravagant connoisseurs of beauty, they left behind an enduring legacy of culinary excellence that influenced the landscape of Indian cuisine completely and permanently. They also brought with them refined and courtly etiquettes of dining in which decorating food with fresh flower petals, thin edible foils of silver and cleaning hands after dining by dipping fingers in bowls of rose water was usual practice. The fast-paced craziness of our present world has rendered it impossible for us to indulge in those elegant dining styles but the taste and flavour can still be recreated and experienced on special occasions like Eidul Fitr and Eidul Azha. Traditional dishes like Mughlai Qorma, Biryani, Nihari, Halwa, Shahi Tukray and Kheer remind us of our rich cultural heritage and what better time to revel in it than Eid? Eidul Azha brings with it a welcome break from work and everyone seems to be making plans to socialise with friends and family. Parties have to be planned and menus are carefully prepared even for a small gathering. Traditional desserts and sweets are synonymous with Eid and are eagerly awaited in every household. Life is surely great when a culinary indulgence becomes ‘healthy’. Despite the sugar, these milk-based desserts are full of nutrients, definitely low on the budget and easy to prepare. You’ll have plenty of time to get dressed and put on all the make-up ladies! The only problem you might encounter with these Kheers is keeping your guests away from them. So today, I bring you three different types of Kheers that you can easily make this Eid at home: 1. Nurjehani Kheer Ingredients: (serves 6-8) Milk – 1 litre Khoya – ½ to 1 cup Rice –1 cup (boiled) Sugar – 3 tbsp Vanilla custard powder – 3 tbsp Condensed milk – 1 tin Cham cham (mithai) – 250 grams Green cardamom powder – ½ tsp Almond and pistachio – chopped (for garnishing) Chaandi warq (silver edible foil) – optional [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="518"] Ingredients for Nurjehani Kheer. Photo: Saira Khan[/caption] Method: 1. Blend the rice with a little milk to crush roughly. 2. Boil the milk and add rice, khoya, cardamom powder and sugar. Cook this over low heat until slightly thick. 3. Add custard powder, diluted in ¼ cup of milk, stirring rapidly until thick. Let it cool completely. 3. Now add condensed milk and mix well. 4. Dish it out in a serving bowl. Sprinkle chopped almonds and pistachios and dip the cham cham pieces in the kheer. Decorate with it chaandi warq. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="540"] Nurjehani Kheer. Photo: Saira Khan[/caption] 2. Kheer Dilruba Ingredients: (serves 6-8) Milk – 1 litre Rice – 1 cup (boiled and mashed) Sugar – 3 to 4 tbsp Vanilla custard powder – 3 to 4 tbsp Condensed milk – 1 tin Green cardamom powder – ½ tsp Pineapple chunks – 1 tin Bananas – 2 to 3 (finely chopped) Peach – 1 large (finely chopped) Almonds and pistachios – ¼cup each (finely chopped) [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="540"] Ingredients for Kheer Dilruba. Photo: Saira Khan[/caption] Method: 1. Boil the milk for five minutes and add rice and sugar. Boil it for a few more minutes and then thicken it with custard powder (diluted in a little milk). 2. Add almonds and pistachios. Mix it well again and turn off the flame. Let it cool completely. 3. Add all the fruits and condensed milk into it and garnish with pineapple chunks, almond and pistachio. Chill for four to six hours or overnight before serving for best results. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="540"] Kheer Dilruba. Photo: Saira Khan[/caption] 3. Coconut Kheer Ingredients: (serves 6-8) Coconut milk – 2 cups Sugar – 6 tbsp Cream – ½ cup Apple – 1 (chopped finely) Mixed fruit cocktail – 1 small tin Tapioca pearls (also called sabudaana) – ½ cup Water - 2½ cups Red food colour – a few drops (optional) [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="469"] Ingredients for Coconut Kheer. Photo: Saira Khan[/caption] Method: 1. Cook the tapioca (sabudana) with water until cooked, translucent and thick. 2. Add sugar and coconut milk and mix quickly. Stir it continuously until it becomes thick. Add cream and red food colour. Then mix well, turn off the heat and let it cool down. 3. Now add all the fruits and chill it before serving. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="498"] Coconut Kheer. Photo: Saira Khan[/caption] So there you have it - three simple Kheers that will keep your guests licking their spoons till the very end! Eid Mubarak to all you kitchen experts (you might as well be one after all the hard work that goes on in the kitchen!).

I am turning 26 next month. I see how aunties look at me at weddings and mehndis. Even for a guy, I seem on the tail end of the perfect shaadi age bracket. No longer am I the choicest meat at the supermarket; I fall somewhere between that and expired meat, which is then sold at cheaper prices. It seems ironic being compared to a piece of meat, the look in these aunties’ eyes gives me a window into feeling how girls feel going to Aashiana or Liberty market to buy the latest lawn print. Mehndis are no different than shopping malls for many aunties; the Hyperstar of people. Looking around is window shopping, relatives serve as customer support helping them find out the necessary details. In lieu of any such relative, I believe people carry a device like the device that helped Ash Ketchum recognise Pokemon. One look at the dress enables them to recognise the designer, year of print release and price of the dress. And just like Pokemon, these people seem to be driven by a desire to Gotta catch ‘em all. My mother has made new friends with random aunties calling at the house. I cannot get my burgers as customised as professional match makers are able to provide for potential matches. I thought my mom was ordering the new Ipad, when she asked for the “white, smart and sleek model”. No country values intellect more than Pakistan. We use smart as an adjective to appreciate somebody’s looks. The top most demand is a doctor bahu (daughter-in-law). The five-year MBBS degree serving as a crash course to prepare you for anything else you may suffer from in life. If you can dissect a frog, you are welcome to marry our son. My mother has collected a notebook of phone numbers with parents with eligible daughters. I am convinced there is a Facebook group somewhere passing around these lists. These calls seem to be the sole reason landlines still exist in Pakistan. I wonder if there is a ‘Tinder’ like app for parents in Pakistan that lets them swipe left or right at other parents they like. The app would let them see the financial, religious and ethnic status of other parents. If both parents swipe right and like each other, only then are they allowed to exchange pictures of their children. Come to think of it, Pakistani parents should sue Tinder. We have been making matches based solely on photographs for ages. If westerners think they have it awkward at first dates, we arrange the most extravagant first dates inviting all our families and friends; these first dates are called ‘weddings’. There are also greater chances of these first dates leading to something in Pakistan. One minute you are enjoying a Hanif Rajput chicken biryani and the next you are cooking chicken biryani for you, your spouse and your two children. I completely feel ill-equipped to go through this experience; it seems rather daunting. I do not even know how to ride a horse. If somebody hides my shoes, I have absolutely no qualms about walking in my socks. If you know they are going to get stolen, why not just go wearing a pair from Sunday bazaar? I don’t photograph well, I hate ladoos and my shalwars keeping slipping off. I would make the worst dulha (groom) ever. I might just start performing if I am on the stage for too long. And nobody wants their daughter to get married to a comedian. No amount of claiming you were ‘kidding’ would save you, if you jokingly tell somebody you like men just to get out of the ordeal. If you are to risk it, I would recommend doing it right before the final family picture. You know, the one meant to be framed by Jimmy’s and put up all over the house compelling all guests to compliment it. I told my father about my difficulties at understanding all of this. He said we will talk about it later and instead took me to the bakra mandi (goat market) to buy a goat for Eidul Adha. He taught me how to check if the goat was pure bred or not. I soon realised any animals tracing their lineage to exotic foreign lands like Australian cows were valued way higher than the locals. The teeth are the best way to find out about the age of a goat, which is why my dad insisted on the goats smiling for every single picture. The goats need to be a certain age for them to be the ideal sacrifice. The height, the weight and the colour of the goat, all have to be perfect. There are hundreds of goats in the market but you are looking for that one goat that would make suffering through the stench of the bakra mandi worthwhile. Eventually, I had no say in the matter; my father selected a goat. I have no idea why I had to endure through all of this. My father tied my hand around a string attached to the goat and we were handed a document signifying that the goat belonged to us. My father put it under my name. I was happy to give the goat my name. As I sat there at the back of a truck lying next to a bakra staring into the starry night on that cold winter evening, the bakra snuggled next to me. All of a sudden I felt something. It is then that I realised what my father was trying to teach me. All I can say is: Well played, dad, well played. I now know why he insisted we buy a neutered goat instead of an unneutered one.

Tis’ the season to be jolly! December always comes with great tidings; winter chills, hot chocolate, numerous holidays and an opportunity to make new resolutions. And along all this, it also brings the joyful day of Christmas. This day is an embodiment of religious beliefs, which celebrates a miraculous event and a time of togetherness. Two billion Christians all over the world celebrate this day with great spirit and felicity. As a child, the idea of Christmas for me was all about decorating Christmas trees, receiving presents and Santa stuffing himself down a chimney. I used to be most excited about meeting Santa and receiving a present from him. However, as I grew up, I realised that it goes way beyond that. Christmas is to Christians what Eid is to Muslims. Just as Eidul Fitr is a lot more than just giving and receiving money, Christmas is much more than just presents under a Christmas tree. Just as Eidul Fitr and Eidul Azha teach us about the importance of patience and sacrifice, Christmas teaches us about sharing and giving. These are not codified religious morals, they are universal morals; therefore, we should seek to learn from others – not only as individuals, but also as a community. I remember once how our domestic help came to our house with a Christmas cake as a present, to celebrate it with us even though he was on leave. I found that extremely touching, considering he could have utilised that money elsewhere for his celebration. Yet, he chose to celebrate it with us. This gesture made me realise how very similar Christmas is to Eid, or any other religious festival. Pakistan is home to three million Christians, making them the second largest minority group in the country, after Hindus. But they aren’t the only ones who celebrate Christmas. Every year, in this Muslim-majority nation, we witness Christmas being popularly celebrated amongst non-Christian households as well. Private dinners and lunches as well as carnivals are hosted to celebrate Christmas on the 25^th every year. Organisations such as the British Women’s Association (BWA), which is a group of women working towards philanthropic causes, have successfully been hosting a Christmas bazaar in Karachi for over 15 years now. The Christmas bazaar has a variety of stalls for books, clothes, fun activities for children, food and much more. The proceeds of the Christmas bazaar go on to charity. The charm about these Christmas bazaars is that people of different faiths and strata attend it. Along with the spirit of Christmas, an essence of equality and solidarity is also noticeable at the bazaar. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640"] BWA stalls at the Beach Luxury Hotel. PHOTO: AYESHA MIR/EXPRESS[/caption] These celebrations also go beyond social events. Restaurants introduce special Christmas menus, bakeries have specialised baked items, Christmas sales are organised at malls and most television channels air Christmas specials. These happenings may come as a surprise to most, given the increase in cases pertaining to blasphemy laws, fatwas and extremist ideologies. Many Pakistani Muslims believe that wishing “Merry Christmas” to fellow Christians or being part of their celebrations would mean going against Islamic principles. This is not true. Partaking in another religions festival does not make one an unbeliever, neither does one automatically convert by enjoying a different religions event. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="435"] At the BWA Christmas Bazaar 2014, Beach Luxury Hotel, Karachi. Photo: Mushal Zaman[/caption] It goes beyond these misconceptions. By recognising various religious festivities, we grant our minorities their constitutional rights. Instead of making Christmas all about one religion, we should focus on it more like a societal event, leading to awareness about other religions and an increased sense of tolerance. My brothers and I used to happily help out at various stalls in different carnivals, and sell tickets and raffles every year. However, as time progressed and we became busy with other commitments, we weren’t able to continue our little ritual consistently. But this year, when we volunteered to help again, and it was then, again, that I had the realisation of how wonderful it feels to participate like this. It gave me a renewed sense of community, selflessness and responsibility. It made me feel like an active member of my society. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="252"] At the BWA Christmas Bazaar 2014, Beach Luxury Hotel, Karachi. Photo: Mushal Zaman[/caption] I would suggest all who read this blog to take part in such activities – it’ll only help you grow stronger as an individual and as a member of society.

New York mayor, Bill de Blasio, announced on March 4 that two Muslim holidays, Eidul Azha, also known as the Feast of the Sacrifice, and Eidul Fitr, which marks the end of the holy month of Ramazan, will become a school holiday starting in 2016. It was joyful news and many American Muslims were cheerfully sharing it and trying to find out if they could request the same thing in their state. However, when I checked social news websites, I was very disappointed with the bigotry expressed in the comments sections. Actually, it is everywhere. Nothing felt right after the Paris attacks, and fears in the American Muslim community have been elevated by the execution-style killings of three young Muslim American students in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, in February.

“For the second time in my life, I feel scared to go out. The first time was when I was attacked at the age of 14 for being a Muslim in America. The second time was since the shooting took place in Chapel Hill,” an Afghan-American graduate student who wears the hijab told me.

While authorities still defend the shooting as a “parking dispute,” many American Muslims believe in their hearts that it was a hate crime. Talat Halman, an associate professor of religion at Central Michigan University who lived in Chapel Hill for a dozen years and studied with University of North Carolina professors, told me:

“This is a terrible moment in our history and possibly a turning point in relations between Muslim Americans and other American citizens”.

As a Muslim American with children living in Chapel Hill, these murders struck Mr Halman very deeply.

“The victims, Deah Barakat, Yusor Abu-Salha and Razan Abu-Salha, were three great, accomplished and generous people of service. There is no question that this murder of three Muslims was a hate crime,” Mr Halman said.

Actually, the Chapel Hill shooting wasn’t the only attack on American Muslims in February. An Arab American told police he was assaulted on February 12 at a Kroger store in Dearborn, Michigan, by two white men from Taylor who were angered because he was speaking Arabic. The FBI is conducting a separate investigation “as to whether it would raise to the level of a hate crime under federal law.” The El Paso police are investigating a possible hate crime after Muslims had their car tires slashed on February 13. That same day, we woke up to news that the Quba Islamic Institute in Houston was on fire. Houston fire officials then noted a homeless man had been arrested. Fifteen-year-old Abdisamad Sheikh-Hussein was killed in a horrific hit-and-run car crash in Kansas City, Missouri, in December. He almost had his legs severed when a man, whom locals said had been harassing the community with anti-Islamic taunts and violent threats, apparently swerved his car and ploughed into the boy. The Islamic School of Rhode Island was vandalized on February 14. Photos of the school circulating on social media and sent to The Providence Journal show doors covered with the words, “Now this is a hate crime” and “pigs,” along with expletives referring to the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) and to Allah (swt), the Arabic word for God. In Columbus, Ohio, multiple mosques reported receiving threatening phone calls from the same individual on February 17, putting these communities on edge. On the same day in Revere, Massachusetts, multiple threats of violence against Muslims were posted throughout the town threatening to kill Muslims “within 72 hours”. I am afraid that by the time this article is published more bad news will pile up. There will be many more problems because of ignorance and lack of dialogue if polarisation continues in this manner. Even though some pluralism-motivated lawmakers have taken action to reach out to their communities equally, it is not enough if communities don’t cooperate and communicate. Collectively and individually, Muslims and non-Muslims should find common ground to get together and interact.

“As an educator I use my own personal stories, films and field trips to the mosque to help students overcome the cultural barriers of Islamophobia and learn that Muslims are real people, good people and people just like them,” says Mr Halman.

I think it should be the norm, not only for Muslims but non-Muslims as well to be able to survive together. Just yesterday in an interfaith community event, a Christian military chaplain had asked why moderate Muslims weren’t speaking up. I responded:

“We are speaking up. Are you listening?”

Yes, listening is key and a diverse mosaic of peaceful Americans living together in harmony can only be achieved by open dialogue, mutual respect and seeking to understand the other party’s point of view first. The post originally appeared here.

Each year Hollywood and Bollywood releases movies that shake the box office and create a buzz among the audiences. Knowing the unpredictable audience, some do well while others don’t. Here are some of the movies that will hit cinemas this Eidul Fitr. Ant Man [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="407"] Photo: IMDb[/caption] This year you will bear witness the rise of a rather different kind of a Marvel Comics superhero – Ant Man. Directed by Peyton Reed, the movie stars Paul Rudd as Scott Lang, who finds a suit that gives him extra strength, but shrinks him in size of an ant. Rudd is a criminal and finding the suit gives him a chance to begin a new life of fighting crimes. Moreover, the fate of the world also hangs over his tiny shoulders. Also starring in Ant Man are Evangeline Lilly as Hope van Dyne, and Corey Stoll as Darren Cross/Yellow Jacket, the movie’s antagonist. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2mne60[/embed] Irrational Man [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="393"] Photo: IMDb[/caption] Emma Stone, Joaquin Phoenix, and Jamie Blackley will appear in Woody Allen’s recent production, Irrational Man. The storyline revolves around Abe Lucas (Joaquin Phoenix) who engulfs himself in a certain life crisis that compels him to question his life’s purpose and goals. With much thoughts circling in his mind, Abe meets Jill Pollard (Emma Stone) who adds some tranquillity in his life. Abe, a philosophy professor, easily entangles in existential issues while Jill, who is also his student, is the only person who can understand Abe’s predicaments. This is one mystery drama – with a touch of romance and philosophy – you do not want to miss if you are into philosophical stories. With Stone in the cast on this philosophically charged movie, Irrational Man might turn out to be a good watch. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2ph6ye[/embed] Mr Holmes [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="422"] Photo: IMDb[/caption] Any movie starring Ian McKellen – who plays the role of Sherlock Holmes – is bound to be an interesting watch because of his years of acting experience and because of the fact that he is one of the finest actors Hollywood has ever produced. This might be a delight for all Holmes’ fans for McKellen will add much maturity and charisma in this character. The story will take viewers to 1947, when Sherlock Holmes, 93, is living a peaceful post-retirement life in Sussex. Mr Holmes has a different story to tell, different from the previous Sherlock Holmes movies because of the absence of Mr Watson, Holmes’ trusty sidekick and companion. However, Watson does something that compels Holmes to travel to Japan and various other places to find answers to the questions connected to a case Holmes wishes to solve. Viewers will see flashbacks of Holmes’ past that will reconnect the dots. Watson might be in those flashbacks to add more mystery into Holmes’ present life in 1947. Bill Condon (director of the Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1 and 2, and Dreamgirls) is the director and brains behind Mr Holmes which is destined to do well. This is simply because of McKellen’s lead role and because viewers get to see more introspection and dialogue – and you can bet that when McKellen speaks, the audience listens. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2wuxqc_mr-holmes-official-trailer-2015_shortfilms[/embed] Bajrangi Bhaijaan [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="498"] Photo: Bajrangi Bhaijaan Facebook page[/caption] Each year, Bollywood releases a Salman Khan movie on Eid that smashes box office records. This year, Salman will be playing the role of Pavan Kumar Chaturvedi and Bajrangi Bhaijaan in Bajrangi Bhaijaan. Some reports claim that Salman is playing a double role. The story connects with Pakistan as Bhaijaan meets a mute girl from Pakistan who is lost in India and cannot find her way back. Bhaijaan takes the responsibility to take the girl back to her country. Also starring the movie is Kareena Kapoor as Rasika. The anxiously-waited movie is directed by Kabir Khan (Kabul Express, New York) and is produced by Salman Khan and Rockline Venkatesh. The movie is already surrounding controversy by Hindu extremist groups who are opposing its release, and not to forget the case Amjab Sabri has filed against Adnan Sami for remaking one of their qawwalis. Whatever the case is, Bajrangi Bhaijaan will become a hit because of Salman’s huge fan following in the subcontinent. We just hope it isn’t banned from screening in Pakistan. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2rtqx9[/embed] Pixels [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="416"] Photo: IMDb[/caption] Adam Sandler will be appearing with his comical expressions in Pixels, a comedy movie with a touch of sci-fi produced by Columbia Pictures. The movie stars Sandler as Sam Brenner, Kevin James as President Will Cooper, Josh Gad as Ludlow Lamonsoff, the infamous Peter Dinklage as Eddie Plant, and Ashley Benson as Lady Lisa. The movie is an action, comedy and sci-fi animation movie in which viewers will relive the classic arcade games of the past as they come to life to invade humans. The movie begins in 1982 when NASA sends a shuttle into orbit in search of extra-terrestrial life. Enclosed in the shuttle are items, one of them is a video of all classic arcade games the humans have created including Centipede, Donkey Kong, and PacMan. Aliens comprehend it as a message of war and use these games to create their weapons to attack Earth. To save Earth, President Cooper asks his old friend, Sam to assemble a team and defeat these games. Will he be able to save Earth? Who will be part of his team? And what inventive ways will he use, are questions that will certainly increase your curiosity. Directed by Chris Columbus (director of Home Alone 1 and 2, Mrs Doubtfire, Fantastic Four), this is one movie will definitely take us on a trip to our arcade days. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2jtmss[/embed] Although all these movies have some special attribute attached to them, I am looking forward to the release of Mr Holmes, and yes, all because of watching McKellen in a role which he has never performed before and a role which, in my opinion, he was destined to play in a movie.

In my ancestral home in Lahore, on Eidul Fitr, our table is adorned with Bohemian crystal bowls filled with fruit or chickpea chaat and mithai in kitsch colours, laid out on silver platters. But as in many homes across Pakistan, it is the vermicelli pudding, the seviyan, which is the pièce de résistance on the table. This Eid, why not add other items to your menu for the feast? Present your guests with a saffron-imbued cold drink – Shahi Zafran ka sherbet – upon their arrival. The dollop of fresh cream on top with pistachio dust is a lovely way to do something a little extra special on Eid. After your guests have eaten and enjoyed a few spoonful’s of seviyan (which is a rite of passage on Eid), there is always room for more dessert when the tea trolley comes around. Make a gorgeous date cake for your guests, and serve it alongside a cup of cardamom-fragranced green tea. In my ancestral home, green tea was always served in my paternal grandmother’s red Russian Gardner cups, which her mother-in-law brought back from Afghanistan in the late 1800s. And for those guests who will be coming for lunch or dinner, prepare some Kebab-e-dayg – tender kebabs prepared on a slow flame, in a spicy tomato base, which pairs beautifully with some basmati rice and a kachumbar (salad). This warming sherbet with its vermilion hue and musky, smoky aroma of cardamom and saffron is beautiful with a crown of cream. It is just what I want to drink with a copy of Donna Hay’s magazine in my lap. This recipe serves four. Ingredients: Saffron strands – 1 tsp (crushed in a pestle and mortar) Milk – 1 litre and 3 tbsp whole milk Heavy whipping cream – 300ml Cardamom pods – 6 pods (shells removed, seeds extracted) Honey – 2 to 3 tbsp honey (I like acacia or manuka) Cardamom powder – 1 tsp Crushed unsalted pistachios – for garnish Method: 1. Crush saffron threads in a pestle and mortar and transfer to a bowl. Add three tablespoons of milk. 2. Beat the cream in a chilled bowl with a whisk or an electric mixer just until it holds a loose peak. 3. Store in refrigerator till you are ready to serve the sharbet. 4. Place milk in a medium-sized sauce pan on medium-low heat. Add cardamom seeds and bring to a simmer. 5. Pass milk through sieve into a glass vessel and discard cardamom seeds. 6. While milk is still warm (it should not be hot), add saffron water, honey and cardamom powder. 7. Stir well to incorporate. 8. Transfer to serving glasses and add dollop of cream and sprinkle with crushed pistachios before serving. Wishing everyone a lovely Eid with your loved ones! All photos: Shayma Saadat This post originally appeared here. This is Part 1 of our delicious three part Eid Feast Recipe. Part 2 (Kebab-e-Dayg) shall be published tomorrow, stay tuned!

In my ancestral home in Lahore, on Eidul Fitr, our table is adorned with Bohemian crystal bowls filled with fruit or chickpea chaat and mithai in kitsch colours, laid out on silver platters. But as in many homes across Pakistan, it is the vermicelli pudding,the seviyan, which is the pièce de résistance on the table. This Eid, why not add other items to your menu for the feast? Present your guests with a saffron-imbued cold drink – Shahi Zafran ka sherbet – upon their arrival. The dollop of fresh cream on top with pistachio dust is a lovely way to do something a little extra special on Eid. After your guests have eaten and enjoyed a few spoonful’s of seviyan (which is a rite of passage on Eid), there is always room for more dessert when the tea trolley comes around. Make a gorgeous date cake for your guests, and serve it alongside a cup of cardamom-fragranced green tea. In my ancestral home, green tea was always served in my paternal grandmother’s red Russian Gardner cups, which her mother-in-law brought back from Afghanistan in the late 1800s. And for those guests who will be coming for lunch or dinner, prepare some Kebab-e-dayg – tender kebabs prepared on a slow flame, in a spicy tomato base, which pairs beautifully with some basmati rice and a kachumbar (salad). My Ami’s brother, my eldest mamoo, always takes me straight to Rahat Bakery after I land at the airport in Lahore in the winter. During my summer visits, all one wants to do is go straight home and languish in the air-conditioned room, whilst slicing into the plump flesh of a mango. But in December, when Lahore is in its element and all you need is a mere shawl twirled around your silhouette to keep you warm, we stop for treats at the bakery. Mamoo knows I may want to select my favourite pastry from the display, maybe the lemon tart, which I don’t think is made from real lemon curd at all, but I have been devouring it for so many years that I don’t think it really matters what the ingredients are. Or I may choose the layered rectangular chocolate pastry. I don’t think it is made with fine cocoa, but it is the pastry my nani ami (maternal grandmother) and I used to love having together in the evenings sitting in front of the gas heater in the drawing room, sipping our tea. Rahat also has the best chicken patties in Lahore (my bias, of course), and one must follow a strict method for eating these. Just like there are methods for eating an oreo cookie, there are even stricter methods for eating a chicken patty. First, you gently and carefully remove the top crispy layer which reveals the softer, inner layers of the puff pastry. Only once you’ve eaten the crackly top can you dip the softer portion into sweet chili sauce and inhale it in one-two-three-bites. My mamoo and I leave Rahat with 12 chicken patties, encased in a box with an orange or pink ribbon tied lazily on top in a bow. And just for old times’ sake, I will pick up a small box of Shezan’s mango juice, sultry Lahore summers in that cliched box. I was not able to go home to Lahore this winter to have the lemon tart or get my fingers greasy by stuffing chicken patties into my mouth. I missed out on all the different citrus fruits which are in bloom in December, the ones we eat every morning while BBC news hums in the background. I missed out on spending time with my mamoo, the youngest one who comes into our room at midnight with his dinner on a tray after a long day at work,

“Hi Bruta,” he always quips.

To which I respond,

“Hi Bruto!”

To which he retorts,

“Hi Triple Ugly!”

And there he sits with us till two, sometimes three in the morning till we set the world right and talk about Sidney Poitier, one of his favourite actors. I missed out on Siddique, our cook’s morning ritual of coming into my ami’s room asking me what to cook that day. My daily request for lunch, without fail is always daal (lentils) with chapatti (flatbread). I don’t know if Siddique puts crack in that daal, but I could eat it every day for the rest of my life. And then the hardest part, what to have for dinner. Some days I request a spicy mutton curry with potatoes for my meat and potatoes fix and other days just a simple chicken roast which my nani ami taught Siddique to make.

And some days I yearn for kebab-e-dayg, a kebab dish prepared in a large pot, a dayg. A rich tomato sauce is prepared with a fragrant base of caramelised onions and garlic to which kebabs are added and simmered till the sauce has seeped into each tender piece. Mopped up with a light-as-air chapatti or drenched over mounds of basmati rice, it is the taste of winters at home in my nani ami’s home. I still remember the swish-swoosing of her slippers as she would come towards my door every morning to ask me, her spoilt grandchild visiting from abroad, what I wanted for lunch and dinner that day. And some days I used to get miffed because I would want to continue sleeping rather than discussing lunch and supper menus. How I wish for her to be there with ami and I every morning. And not once would I get miffed with her question regarding what to prepare for lunch and dinner. This recipe serves four with a side of basmati rice, chapatti or naan. Ingredients: For the tomato base: Oil – 3 tbsp Onion – 1 small (chopped fine) Garlic – 2 cloves (minced) Tomato – 28 oz / 400 ml can of chopped tomatoes or tomato sauce (passata) or 4 to 6 large fresh tomatoes, chopped, skin removed. Cayenne pepper – 1 tsp Salt – to taste For the kebabs: Parchment paper Bushels scallions/green onions – 2 (hairy ends cut off) Onion – 1 large red onion (peeled, cut into small chunks) Ginger– 1 thumb-sized knob of fresh ginger (peeled) Garlic – 4 whole cloves garlic (peeled) Beef – 1 lb ground beef (not of the lean variety; we need some fat to help ‘bind’ them) Basin (gram flour) – 2 tbsp (heaped) Egg – 1 Cayenne pepper – 1 tsp (heaped) Salt – 1 tsp (or more to taste, remember, the tomato sauce they are poached in will also be salted) Coriander powder – 1 tsp Cumin powder – 1 tsp Green fresh chillies and herbs of your choice for garnishing the dish. Method: For the tomato base: 1. Place a large pot (at least 8 inches diameter) on medium heat. 2. Add oil, onions and garlic. 3. Sauté till golden brown, then add tomatoes and cayenne pepper. 4. Cover pot and turn heat to low. Allow to simmer for 20 minutes. 5. The mixture will have reduced slightly and darkened in colour. 6. Add salt to taste and set aside while you make the kebabs. For the kebabs: 1. Place scallions, onion, ginger and garlic in a food processor and pulse till all the ingredients are minced finely. 2. Transfer into a mixing bowl. 3. To this, add ground beef, gram flour, egg, cayenne pepper, salt, coriander and cumin powders. 4. Mix to combine well. 5. Form kebabs in your hands by placing a tablespoon and a half of the mixture in your palm and curling your fingers onto them. They should be wide and round in the middle and tapered on both ends. 6. Place each kebab on parchment paper as you continue to shape them. 7. Place pot with tomato sauce on medium heat, when it starts to bubble, add a cup of boiling water (you will need to keep boiling water handy). 8. Gently place each kebab into the tomato sauce with a slotted spoon. Make sure you don’t overcrowd them or they will break. Do not stack them on top of each other. Depending on the size of the pot you are using, you may have some kebabs leftover which will not fit in the pot. You can freeze these. 9. Replace the lid and turn the heat to low. Allow the kebabs to poach in the sauce for 30 minutes. 10. When the time has elapsed, allow kebabs to rest for 10 minutes before serving, otherwise they may crumble. 11. Serve with basmati rice, chapatti or naan. 12. Garnish with green chillies, mint, coriander or any other fresh herb of your choice.

Wishing everyone a lovely Eid with your loved ones. All photos: Shayma Saadat This post originally appeared here. This is Part 2 of our delicious three part Eid Feast Recipe. Part 3 (Date Cake) shall be published tonight at midnight, stay tuned!

When I was younger, family gatherings were the highlight of our year. My siblings and I would don our finest clothes, heading out to these events with so much joy and anticipation, you’d think we were meeting the president. Our family get-togethers celebrated an array of life events both planned and impromptu. My parents, my siblings and I would climb into our beat-up car and drive to our destination, gushing about all the ways we were going to have fun. Celebrations like these are a means for humans to get together, and communal gatherings are essential to our survival and wellbeing. They help us unite across geographies and solidify bonds of family and friendship. As this year’s Eid approaches, I return to this idea of gathering our community and the fellowship born from Eid celebrations all over our planet. Thought I’m also wondering, where do my family and I fit? Where will we end up celebrating Eid this year? While there is nothing like sitting and breaking bread with those you love, and making new connections with strangers you’ve just met, sometimes we are the strangers. Eidul Fitr is one of the most sacred holidays in Islam, not only because it marks the end of the holy month of Ramazan, but also for the purpose it serves as an opportunity to gather. Like other celebrations that mark the passing of time, such as weddings and births, Eidul Fitr gives us a reason to come together and commune with one another as equal servants of Allah(SWT). It’s a built-in excuse to joyously proclaim our fellowship within the growing Muslim community across the globe. Similarly, Eid represents one of Islam’s mechanisms to ensure the gathering of its people under the banner of fellowship and mutual assistance. Yet, Eid is always a tough time for me. Fellowship is often not that forthcoming for converts to Islam, no matter how many years have passed since they uttered the sacred words that bind us together as an ummah. Since most Muslims are tied to their communities through bonds of kinship, nationality or race, converts are often left to their own devices to find places to celebrate Muslim holidays. In the United States, where Muslims are a minority and often suspect, suspicion has become part of our community in a post-9/11 world. The suspicion emanates as much from within our community as it does from the outside. Muslims have grown to fear strangers, and with good reason. The surveillance of our communities has come in various shapes and guises, from federal investigations linked to the global ‘war on terror’ to local municipalities recruiting spies. On a sunnier note, this year’s Eidul Fitr is special because it will be the first Eid for my youngest daughter and more than likely the one she’ll least remember. Having a new baby in the house gives me added reason to seek community not just for myself but for her too. As she grows and learns what it means to be a Muslim, she’ll need help and it takes a community of believers to sustain faith and practice. I want her to grow up in a safe and loving environment where she has a diversity of friendships. For some folks who live as part of a Muslim majority, this may sound a bit strange. However, for those of us living as minorities, our Muslim friends and family are doubly important. They link us to Islam in ways both direct and subtle, and their fellowship works within us with every laugh and smile we share. A Sufi sheikh I used to visit would tell me that while I sat in his presence, he was working on polishing my heart. Celebrations like Eidul Fitr, where we can gather as a community, do a little bit of the same. They are opportunities for us to gather and practise our adab (manners) and work on each other’s hearts. With acts of kindnesses small and large during Eid, Muslims erase the suspicions and fears that our communities harbour. We also wash ourselves with the mercy and blessings that only come to us when we gather in strength and worship, eat and celebrate. Some hadith say that when two or more gather to remember Allah (SWT), the angels come to bear witness and that when we remember Allah, Allah remembers us. Remembrance is also a theme that runs throughout the Holy Quran (2:200, 5:7,7:205, 11:120). In the Holy Quran, it’s mentioned to not forget the blessings Allah (SWT) has blessed us with, along with how Muslims take a pledge to Him by bounding ourselves by hearing and obeying. Also being aware of the fact that He knows everything, even the secrets hidden in our hearts (5:7). Eid provides us with an opportunity to come together and remember Allah (SWT), but it also gives us a chance to remember one another and build community by establishing new bonds with our fellow Muslims or strengthening old ones. Eidul Fitr, then, is not only a celebration to mark the end of Ramazan, but also a communal act of remembrance and worship. This post originally appeared here.

I was spring-cleaning my laptop a few weeks ago, when I chanced upon two pictures of myself. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have noticed them among all the randomness saved on my hard drive, from mp3 files to material I saved from when I was working towards my Master’s degree and so much more. However, with Eidul Fitr around the corner and desperate attempts to find pictures of a specific outfit, I paused to look and was struck by the very obvious. Not just the photographs, but of myself – in Pakistan, an English-speaking, junk-food-eating, Hollywood movie watching ‘Westerner’, and in UAE, an Urdu-priding, BBQ chugging ‘Pakistani’. I was in UAE back in 2006, on an overseas training through my then employer, Ernst and Young. While I was there as temporary staff, I experienced much of what new immigrants probably go through – inquisitiveness, independence, and a strong desire to re-affirm my identity. During the 14 years that I had lived in Pakistan till then, I had never experienced this before! Not during cricket matches against India, or when the national flags appeared on August 14^th. In all honesty, I really don’t care that much now either. But things are definitely better than what they were, just a few years ago. Pakistan is a little more than the combined effort of India’s Muslim intellectuals, influential feudal lords and the then British colonial government. The ‘nation-state’ was forced upon us, and Pakistan was the direct result. At independence, not much of the total population actually spoke Urdu; people spoke regional languages such as Punjabi, Sindhi, and even Bengali, because Bangladesh was a part of Pakistan, until it split in 1971. Let’s fast forward to 68 years later. The sixth most populous in the world, Pakistan has an overall illiteracy stands at between 45 per cent and 50 per cent and poverty rate of 17.2%. At the other end of the spectrum, I learnt English as a first language, had access to a personal computer at home, and ate out at the American Pizza Huts and McDonald’s. I socialised at the Gymkhana’s and Karachi Clubs of the city. Often described as having a much westernised getup, I was obviously a part of a significant minority here. Standing at the end of Ramzan, I loved preparing for Eid. New clothes, last minute trips to the tailor, mehendi (henna) outings, Eidi, family bonding over lunch; I love it all, but like a tourist, trying to make mental notes that would later serve as memories. Eid in Pakistan is a colourful TV series to me, which I could switch on and off whenever we celebrated. My world was very different from your average desi. Did I really know anything beyond it? Not really. Then, came the trip to the UAE, where I expected that whatever little ‘nationality’ I might have had would melt away completely. But quite the opposite happened. I remember the feeling I got when I would meet a fellow desi at work. Was it the fact that they could converse with me in my language? I recall being able to buy fabric from Pathan vendors at a place called Ziani. Oh, the joy I felt at being able to haggle over prices with those shopkeepers! And that too, in Urdu. It somehow seemed so surreal. Why did I need to re-affirm my identity in a pot that was already melting with multiple ethnicities? Why did I feel more Pakistani outside of Pakistan? And proudly so, I don’t really know. Is it because in that part of the world, cultural diversities are generally encouraged? Or, as an individual, you struggle to identify with a group because you find strength in groups, so you meet, talk to and befriend people you may never even have acknowledged back home – just because they are able to speak the same language you do? Is that hypocrisy? I really don’t know. Celebrating Eid in a tourist manner is a brilliant way to make those mental notes that could be relived at some future point in time. But this year round, I want to go beyond using Eid as an excuse to buy new clothes and shoes. We are always consumed by our joys and happiness or that of our immediate family and close friends. If I can focus on making others happy by participating in their joys and pains, I know I will have successfully ‘assimilated’. And for this already confused ‘Westernised’ desi, that will be a huge achievement.

When I went to the United States for a semester abroad, I was frequently asked a rather bothersome question,

“How are you treated, being a minority in your country?”

My answer has always been very simply, I am treated just like anyone else; one of their own. But if one were to believe the media, then we are victims of discrimination, brutal killings and part of the largest migration in human history. For the last four years, I have been living with a Muslim family as a paying guest and I have never felt discriminated on the basis of my religion, or any other basis for that matter, in their home. The only form of prejudice I have ever faced is when I went to Islamabad for higher education. As I introduced myself in class, the mere mention of my name made the other students and teacher question if I was Indian. I couldn’t understand how they failed to know that the Pakistani population constituted 1.2% Hindus. However, that wasn’t the last of it. During a cricket match between India and Pakistan, one that we were watching in class, and I was supporting the Pakistani team, much to the astonishment of some of my classmates. In fact, a friend of mine even asked why I was not supporting the Indian team. In that moment, I wish I had a Pakistani copy right patent next to my name, so I didn’t have to give any explanations. Did I have to support the Indian team simply because of my name or religion? As far as my identity is concerned, there are many times that I have had to show my NADRA identity card to ensure people that I am a Pakistani, be it the local merchant or the traffic police. But I don’t believe a Muslim feels any differently in the US. I am sure s/he has to prove his/her identity as an American-Muslim too. Unlike what everyone seems to think, for me, it has been a blessing to be born into a Hindu family in a Muslim state; I have been treated with nothing but respect, care and love. From schooling to university, I was always surrounded by Muslim friends. I have studied Islamiat like every other student in Pakistan, and furthermore, I was extremely appreciated by my teachers. I was the first Hindu to get admission in the Army Public School Chhor Cantonment in Mirpur Khas, Sindh. I remember the days when I used to fast during Ramazan as a respectful gesture to my Muslim friends. On the first day of my fast, the warden of the hostel offered me a seat near him and we opened our fast together. I also remember the days when I participated in Muharram procession in the small town of Dhoronaro. Even though the common notion is that minorities in Pakistan need to be pitied, I have never felt that way. Most of the blame I would set for such a deplorable reputation would be at the media; it has portrayed the situation of the minorities living in Pakistan as third-class citizens. Yet, I have never been treated anything remotely close to that. Last month, I travelled to India for the first time as I had to attend a conference in Chandigarh. Even though I was in a country that was home to millions belonging to the same religion and caste as me, I missed my country, my home, my identity and my people. I won’t deny that I was bombarded with questions regarding the status of Hindus in Pakistan. But being a Pakistani Hindu, I was unbiased and precise with my answers. I told them that I have always felt like a star of my country and I feel safe, which is why I am as loyal as any Muslim in the country. Pakistan doesn’t just belong to Muslims; it belongs to all the residents of its soil. Furthermore, there is good and bad everywhere in the world, but one should stay positive and if it’s about the security, then the Muslims themselves are not safe either. So why single out a particular community based on what is being portrayed to the world? I believe religion is not the cause of tension between us, as religion itself teaches us tolerance and coexistence. I have been sharing my religious festivals (Holi, Diwali, and Raksha bandhan) with my Muslims friends and I tend to participate in their festivals (Eidul Fitr) with the same zeal. I even took my friends to Katas Raj Temple, which is the national heritage, just so they realise that it doesn’t just belong to Hindus. We are a happy family with different identities. As a nation, we share the same food, clothes, buildings, laws, and events. All these elements are what bring us together under the same umbrella, then why do we look for reasons to hate each other? Besides, living here as Raj, my name has provided me quite a unique edge over everyone else; according to one of my female friends, my name is easy to remember (I believe I have Shahrukh Khan to thank for that), and makes me easy to fall in love with! Well, there we have it. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Surprised?

Festivals are a wonderful time of year. They give people an opportunity to bond, share joy, make memories, and most importantly they fill the atmosphere with positivity and good cheer. Festivals also provide a break from the normal rhythm of life and the holidays from work, school, or college don’t hurt either. Living in a vibrant, multicultural society like India gives one the benefit of being able to celebrate multiple festivals with ample enthusiasm. While Diwali and Holi are by far the most celebrated festivals in India, one can also experience the magic of Christmas and the exuberance of Eid in equal measure. Festivals go beyond religion and become an excuse for people of all faiths to enjoy, have fun, and celebrate. India not only has one of the world’s largest Muslim populations, it has also had Muslim presence for over a thousand years. It is therefore natural for Eid to be a major festival in the country, observed with all its attendant customs and rituals. An indicator of the scale on which Eid is observed in India, and the complete state support of the celebrations, is the fact that many public areas are earmarked to enable Muslims to congregate in large numbers and offer prayers on Eid. Azaad maidan in Mumbai hosts thousands of devout worshippers. Similarly, a big stretch of a major national highway running through Gurgaon, near Delhi, is closed to traffic on the morning of Eid to allow namaz (prayer). The authorities have recently earmarked a big public park as an alternative site to minimise disruption and inconvenience to the huge volume of traffic between Delhi and Jaipur on that highway. The celebration of Eid is not restricted to Muslims alone. It has now become a major cultural factor and its influence extends to non-Muslims as well who experience it in many different ways. Eid the gastronomic experience The preparation for Eidul Fitr begins with Ramazan. While for Muslims this is a period of fasting, the time of iftari becomes a celebration of food for all food lovers. Across the country, areas with large Muslim populations come alive with food stalls and bazaars as soon as the sun sets. The Jama Masjid area in Old Delhi, MA Road in Mumbai, Charminar and Toli Chowki in Hyderabad become hubs for food lovers. While Muslims open their fast and shop in preparation for Eid, others flock to these areas to join in the festivities and enjoy delights like kormas, kababs, biryanis, and sweets. Then there’s haleem. Haleem stalls sprout up all over Hyderabad, and a couple of them like Pista House and Hyderabad House have a global following now. Some of the more enterprising individuals also organise Ramazan food walks so that tourists can get a good taste of all the different types of food. It is true that food can unite people and nothing exemplifies that better than the large crowds of people from different religions partaking of the same delicacies and enjoying the festivities together. The iftar party as a political event Iftar parties have become major events for political parties and every leader worth his salt hosts lavish parties in which power brokers rub shoulders and make deals. A lot of political understanding is achieved in these gatherings, lubricating the way for forward movement on tricky issues. The newspapers carry stories of who was and wasn’t invited, and who did and did not attend. Iftar parties are a bit of a barometer for the current standing and power of the host. The latest news this year is that Sonia Gandhi party has decided not to host an iftar party this year. Apparently with her party’s declining political fortunes and growing isolation, she was not sure if any distinguished invitees would show up at all, and she probably wished to avoid further embarrassment. Salman Khan blockbusters Eid has been auspicious for Bollywood and several major films have been released on Eid over the years. Of course since 2009, Salman Khan has pretty much booked the day for his movies and every single one of them has gone on to become a monstrous hit. Wanted, Dabangg, Bodyguard and many others have been big hits at the box office and even this year, Sultan looks all set to get the cash registers ringing. It is a holiday for everyone and after a month of fasting and abstinence, people seek entertainment and what better way than a Bollywood blockbuster to indulge oneself and culminate the festivities on a high note! Eid occupies a special place in India where it is enjoyed and celebrated in all its glory. And why not? It is after all a celebration of humanity. While it symbolises faith, it also is an occasion for introspection and self-discipline. Its essence therefore has universal appeal and applicability. Wishing all readers a happy Eid and hope that in this time of growing conflict and sharpening divides, the essential message of brotherhood, patience, sharing, kindness and compassion shine through and peace prevails in the world.

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