The Express Tribune

Nothing manages to get us desis as excited (read overenthusiastic, obsessive, neurotic etc.) as Eid. It’s like Christmas, New Years, July 4^th, Memorial Day and Labour Day all rolled into one shiny, glittery package. For those of us dreading the cheesy greetings, air kisses and chai making rituals which are part and parcel of practically any get-together in Pakistan, I assure you that the horror show continues and in fact becomes worse, as the first Eid after marriage looms ahead. Personally, I have a handy checklist of things that I need to do on Eid - Go out on chaand raat with friends (check) - Sleep in late as there is no office the next day and mama will hopefully take care of refreshments, clothes etc. (check) - Pretend to be sick so as to sleep in even later (check). Wake up in time for lunch (check) – here the yummy korma, biryani etc. factors in, stalk people on Facebook to admire their extensive/seriously over the top Eid plans. (check) And the list continues. Since this is a post about my first Eid experience with the outlaws – oops! In-laws, I meant in-laws. I thought I should give a little background regarding my lifelong Eid experiences prior to getting hitched. Now that it’s established that I am probably the worst person when it comes to Eid and other related celebrations, I will endeavour to note down one of the best surprises I had this Eid – which I will get to in a minute. As I said, Ramazan for me was spent dreading the flood of relatives (and not even mine, the horror), the endless chai talks and Rooh Afza which I would have to not only face, but fully participate in on Eid, by virtue of being the ‘latest’ and ‘eldest’ bahu (by literally a matter of minutes as my husband’s younger cousin got married two minutes later on the same day as I did). As the day approached, I spent millions of dollars (yes I know I’m exaggerating but it feels that way when it’s coming out of your own pocket) on gifts for the old, gifts for the young and gifts for the neighbours (yes, I’m laying it on thick – sorry). Thankfully my husband (the darling that he is), emotionally blackmailed my sister-in-law (SIL) into making a couple of dresses for me – yay, one less thing to worry about. Since my mother-in-law and father-in-law do not live in the country, all I have to contend with is my SIL who is not as bad honestly, but more importantly, the rest of the outlaws (SIL’s in laws, extended cousins etc.) can be a bit more overwhelming than regular mamus and chachas. Needless to say, I was stressed, getting pimples (shh, I’m very good with base), my hair straightener decided to give up on me in Ramazan and I was not ready to go through the painful process in this heat and I just looked/felt dull. Since it was my first Eid, it was decided that my husband and I would spend the holiday at my SIL’s. Hence, chaand raat and the following two days were spent making delicious goodies with her family which I surprisingly enjoyed – since everyone involved was not judging my cooking skills, or lack thereof and also chocolate was offered as a bribe by my SIL (yes, the surprise). Falling asleep right after Fajr, I expected to be woken up in a couple of hours to face the onslaught. To my surprise and absolute delight, no one even attempted to wake me up before 11 am because,

‘Bechari thak gayi hogi’ (Poor thing must be tired)

There was definite acknowledgement of last night’s hard labour. Getting ready, however, was a nerve wrecking experience – too much base? Too little mascara? Winged liner gone rogue. At the end, I decided to just give up and keep it minimal, light base, a coat of mascara, a little blush-on and tinted gloss. For the first time, I was actually anxious coming out of the room – everyone was so nice to me that I was actually afraid of accidently being rude to them and ruining the day. Nevertheless, I straightened my shoulders, rolled up my sleeves (nasty habit I know) and sailed into the living room. What followed was a series of pleasant encounters – there was minimum chai making/serving as hardly anyone wanted tea in that weather. As we had made vats of Rooh Afza the night before, all I had to do was help my SIL with the serving, and that too was appreciated,

“Wah beti itna kaam kar rahi hai.” (Wow, she’s so hardworking)

And the Eidi! As we all know, the best part of Eid is… Eidi! Oh boy did I make some bucks. Couple of shopping trips guaranteed. Needless to say, I enjoyed every second of the attention, Eidi and above all, the love showed by my new family (hah, see no outlaws business this time). It was the best Eid I could remember since the magic of Eid had worn off sometime between O’ and A’ levels (read puberty, hormones, friends and approaching adulthood generally). The point of this meandering post is to tell all my fellow sisters, who have just stepped into marriage, to go out, be yourself and do not be afraid, it isn’t all that bad or all that scary. God-willing may we all find new families and not the dreaded outlaws!

“Chand nazar agaya! Ramazan Kareem! Kal se rozay shuroo.” (We can see the moon! Ramazan Kareem! Fasting begins tomorrow)

Some spend the night before in prayer. Others clink glasses and prepare for the pause in self-induced inebriation. Others stock up on Rooh Afza and pakora mix. Some can’t wait to be put in a food detox in hopes that they will lose the last few pounds during the holy month. The others are scared those extra pounds will sneak up on them. Some prepare a week in advance, cleaning out their savings account so that the banks don’t deduct zakat fees that they are liable to pay. Whatever the month begins with, eventually after the passing of the first day, everyone starts to feel the pangs of what the fast really symbolises. Never before are we so attuned to realising the little shortcomings of our characters and how, in the simplest of manners, we lose our humanity in the months that follow and fall behind each Ramazan. Eventually, we embrace the month and feel the stirrings of a spiritual awakening that has probably lain dormant. It’s little things like being socially conscious and considerate; knowing that there are many who don’t even have enough food to break their fast, little things like common courtesy, where you speak with a humbling string of words that are clear of obscenities. We make sure to prepare platters of food for those who cannot arrange it for themselves. If we’re not fasting, we make sure that we don’t make it obvious to those that are struggling until the time that they can finally eat again. We look forward to every day when the entire family sits at the table and opens their fast together; the azan breaking the silence of a day long struggle and the clinks of plates, crunching of samosas and slurping of water forms the beat behind laughter and engaging family discussions/conversations. With the holy month in motion, we take one day at a time and slowly alter our own habits. When speaking humbly required effort, it now comes naturally. When people enjoyed being left to their own devices and inevitably nurtured a detached relationship with their families, now find themselves participating in iftar discussions ever so naturally. We begin to value. We begin to decompress our complicated lives. But most importantly, we begin to share; ourselves and our hearts, not only with each other, but with God. Not everyone is able to pass this test though, with many losing their patience in traffic moments before iftar, or hoarding on food as if afraid that it may as well be a mirage of food that may disappear. But, when taking this particular Ramazan into context, this isn’t even the worst that people have proven themselves to be. The amount of violence and intolerance that has been witnessed in this month alone is disgustingly horrifying, and a reminder that even when religion is meant to bind us together and humble us, it’s being used as an excuse to preach people’s own warped perception of Islam. The Orlando shooting, Istanbul Ataturk airport attack, attack in Baghdad, Dhaka attack and Saudi blasts were heart-wrenching exhibits of violence. We have Ahmadi’s being killed at nights when people are supposed to be praying for redemption. Ironically, he was a doctor – his job was to use his education to save lives, and the ignorance of a select few self-righteous found themselves feeling compelled to carry forth their so-called God’s wishes. But, I’m pretty sure most of us have skimmed over this news (like many others like it) as a so-and so, having become completely desensitised towards their plight. One of our countries’ rare talents and prized possessions, Amjad Sabri was killed in broad daylight. I won’t reiterate the fact that his death was an absolute obstruction of justice but what I found appalling was that people stood around him, a man who had just been shot in the head, and made videos. I open up my WhatsApp to see videos of his head drooping on the side of his body while he lay sitting in the car with blood dripping down his side. People were circulating graphic images of his face, post death. And this is ordinary people that live amongst us. Have we no shame? We’re making a man’s death, whoever that man may have been, a horrific source of entertainment? Do you really need to make videos of a man who has been brutally slayed? Do you need to make videos of his body being put to rest six feet underground? The maulanas have proven themselves to be no better this Ramazan. We’ve had them on talk shows talking down to women – Maulana Hamdullah proving to be the most uncouth, threatening to pull off Sirmed and her mother’s shalwar. https://twitter.com/marvisirmed/status/741241871285035008?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw Never mind the fact that this in itself is a gross exhibit of misogyny. What’s worse is people were defending him, saying that Marvi was too loud and vocal and that she deserved it. No matter what, demeanour aside (considering the maulana’s demeanour was even worse), voicing your opinion is not reason enough for vile and disgusting threats such as these. What’s worse? This talk show was aired for obvious reasons – the whole spectacle would bring in ratings and viewership. An intolerance for discussions was once again met with violence as Hamza Ali Abbasi’s show was banned after he chose to discuss the plight of Ahmadis on his show. Maulana Kokab Noorani, self-righteous as all maulanas are, spoke on live television in response to Hamza’s attempts and claimed that his behaviour was an act of treason that should be handled as any act of treason would be. This was also aired for obvious reasons. Airing these kinds of happenings makes us desensitised to the connotations behind it, and we find humour in it rather than disgust. All this became fodder for gossip this Ramazan, and a source of entertainment for people – promoted by your very own Pakistani media houses, because that’s exactly what they were aiming for. I don’t know what your God taught you. My God definitely doesn’t teach me that I have the right to decide who gets to live and who should be forever silenced. But that’s not even the question here. What befalls many people is that Islam doesn’t condone hate speech or justify people finding entertainment in other people’s emotional or physical traumas. And these are only happenings we get to see on the internet or from the comfort of our TV screens. This month has witnessed a surge in crime; kidnappings, including that of Awais Ali Shah, the son of Sindh High Court Chief Justice Sajjad Ali Shah, as well as people being robbed at gun point when they’re heading to or back from taraweeh. We’ve had women being harassed by their own sex because of what they have been wearing this Ramazan, claiming they were sent by God to ‘fix’ people like her. We’ve had people beating up non-muslims for eating in public. This month in particular has proven that on some people, humanity is lost and they are victims to their own flaws; to inflict violence, to preach their own righteousness, to pass judgments, to gossip and find entertainment in other people’s misery, and to breed insensitivity. Habits die hard, and many traits are our fatal flaws. We may challenge them but most of the human race is incapable of sustaining any form of discipline. As for some of us, we try; Ramazan forces us to challenge ourselves and prove that we are all capable of being the best version of ourselves. Eventually we do feel that we can fight from succumbing to the flaws of our own kind. But as soon as it had begun, it ends. And there you have it!

Chand raat mubarak. Eidul Fitr ka waqt agaya hai. (It’s time for Eidul Fitr).

A new frenzy begins. Women splurge on mehndi and bangles, and invest their money in expensive clothes. People dust off the cobwebs on their indoor bars and are reminded of inebriated freedom. Domestic staff is told to spend the first day of Eid on the job. Children aren’t invested in touching base with their relatives, they’re eyeing the prize; more houses equals more Eidi. We invest our time in splurging on extravagant dinners, material possessions; all the things that we used to believe make us content. Although this is very much in light of celebration and happiness, these small steps settle us into our old habits. We snap back into the old version of ourselves and, soon enough, we fall back into our self-serving, selfish, socially devoid mannerisms. We forget that our forceful starvation is a fact of life for many. We forget that many are sleeping on the streets while we leave the AC on for the night and cosy up in our comforters to prepare for yet another peaceful slumber. We forget that people die every day because of social barriers we set amongst ourselves. We forget that when we go off to buy a new wardrobe for the upcoming season, many rummage through dustbins for your old clothes so they have something to wear. We forget that when we drive to and from places in our chauffeured cars, others are commuting on foot or by bus and being subjected to harassment. We forget to pray. We forget to feel blessed, because eventually, we forget everyone but ourselves. We forget that our taxing routine of clocking in and out of work and daily activities is actually a luxury. Many of our kind have proven this month to be hopeless causes. But, as for the rest of us, the little humanity that does surface around the month eventually succumbs to indifference as we become empty vessels that sit on the side-lines while those with their warped ideologies preach and practice and take over control of our country, our safety, and our sensitivity towards one another. Right after Eidul Fitr, we inch towards losing ourselves yet again, until the moon shines once more and awakens our conscientiousness, however brief it may be.

This year, a controversy surrounded the arrival of Eidul Azha, the second most important holiday in Islam, involving the holiday’s date, as the Express Tribune reported: American Muslims on edge as Eidul Azha looks set to fall on September 11^th. Muslims abroad, especially in the United States, faced the prospect that celebration would coincide with a day of mourning of those killed at the World Trade Centres. As a result, some Muslim leaders prepared for tension between their community and anti-Muslim bigots. In the New York Times, Linda Sarsour, executive director of the Arab American Association of New York, said,

“Our community is like, ‘What are we supposed to do?’ I should not have to think about that. What am I supposed to tell my kids?”

Her statement comes in context of a recent murder, in the New York borough of Queens, of an imam and his assistant, though the investigation has not determined whether this is a hate crime or related to a dispute between the Hispanic community and the mosque. Nevertheless, just as the actions of terrorists committing acts in the name of Islam do not represent Muslims, the acts of anti-Muslim bigots do not represent non-Muslims, though we must remain vigilant against both elements. Fortunately, due to the sighting of the moon, this year’s Eid began on September 12^thin the US. And so this year’s Eidul Azha passed without additional controversy. But how do Americans and non-Muslims view Eidul Azha? Very few would know that there are two Eids, the other being Eidul Fitr, or that Eidul Azha commemorates how Abraham (or Ibrahim) offered his son Ishmael as sacrifice, and the divine intervention saved him from carrying out the act – even though many Jews and Christians are familiar with this parable. Outside the Muslim community, the holiday does not merit much attention. To find out more, I talked to Muslims that I know personally in our community in the Pacific Northwest as to how they approach the holiday, including those from Somalia, Lebanon, Pakistan, and Afghanistan. Without exception they claimed to celebrate this year’s Eid quietly with family and friends, exchanging gifts, with prayers at the mosque, and if the holiday falls on a school day they might take their children out of class. But none feared any repercussions from society at large. If there were to be any controversy on a broader scale, it would have come from the animal rights activists who oppose the sacrifice of animals (a minor concern). As Muslims adapt and integrate more with the west, the west will have a reciprocal understanding, and society will progress, a good development. Thus we should take words by Dean Obeidallah into account, who recently wrote at the Daily Beast,

“I’ve never been more optimistic about our future in America…. I’m sure the years ahead will be challenging ones for the Muslim American community. But the anti-Muslim hate we see now will fade—our nation’s history tells us so. Jews and Catholics before us endured similar barbs, slurs, and fears, and in time overcame them. Deep in my heart, I am certain that we, too, will overcome.”

What he said.

For a month that was perceived to be extremely slow, Ramazan sure flew by. The one Eid I got to celebrate in the UK was surely a memorable one. Our desi crew went to the campus mosque, offered prayers, then headed back to the dorms where we all had doodh patti (milk-based tea). Later on, we all dressed up in our desi attire and went to watch Salman Khan’s Kick (not a memory I cherish). Afterwards, we headed to Akbar’s for some good old desi splendour. It’s funny and maybe it’s only me, but Eid abroad feels more like Eid. I still have not been able to pinpoint exactly how or why, but I am sure a lot of people would agree. As the last few days of Ramazan approach, everyone gets extremely busy as people begin shopping for multiple outfits and groceries in order to prepare for Eid. Most of Eid is spent snacking on sweets and feasting on rich foods which. to be honest, is one of the best parts of Eid festivities. I’m going to present a simple and tasty meal plan which you can follow for a delicious Eid feast. Not much energy is required for these meals, I promise. I have prepared a whole three-course meal which includes mini kebab rolls as appetiser, achari chicken as the main, and mango sawaiyan as a dessert. I have also included a refreshing ginger peach drink to serve to your guests as a welcome drink! So here we go! Appetiser: Mini kebab rolls Ingredients: Chicken mince – ½ kg Egg – 1 Ginger and garlic paste – 1 tbsp Onion – 1 small (finely chopped) Green chillies – 3 (finely chopped) Red chilli powder – 1 tsp Crushed black pepper – 1/2 tsp Salt – ½ tsp Garam masala powder (all spices) – ½ tsp Method: 1. Mix all the ingredients into the chicken mince and refrigerate for an hour at least. 2. Shape your kebabs and keep aside. 3.Heat six tablespoons of oil in a pan, place the kebabs in the pan and cook on medium flame till they turn into a golden colour all around. 4.You can place the kebabs on a paper towel for the tissue to absorb the excess oil and serve. You can freeze them and use them whenever required (microwave or grill). Note: Make sure you don’t wash the mince as you won’t be able to form the rolls if the mixture is too watery. If that is the case, add bread crumbs to stiffen it.

Main Course: Achari chicken

Ingredients: Boneless chicken breasts – 4 pieces (cut into bite sizes pieces) Yogurt – 1 cup Onions –2 large (grind into a paste with as little water as possible) Green chillies – 2 to 3 large (julienne – add as per taste) Whole Seeds: Fenugreek seeds – ½ tsp (optional) Fennel seeds – 1 tsp Onion seeds –1 tsp Powdered Spices: Coriander powder – 1 tsp Red chilli powder – 1 tsp Salt – 2 tsp (as per your taste) Method: 1.Grind the whole seeds mixture coarsely and keep aside. 2.Heat the oil, add the onion paste and fry till it is pink in colour. This takes about two minutes. 3.Add the chicken in the onion mixture and keep frying till it is slightly cooked. This will take around five to six minutes. 4.Add the powdered spices and mix for three to four more minutes and then add the coarsely powdered mixture. 5.Keep mixing till the chicken is almost cooked (about six to seven minutes), next add the yogurt and sauté.

6.Sauté till most of the water is absorbed and the chicken turns reddish brown in colour. 7.Add green chillies and cook for two more minutes.

Dessert: Mango sawaiyan

Ingredients: Mango pulp Sugar – ¼ cup Milk – 3 cups Vermicelli – 1 cup

Method: 1.Boil the milk, add sugar and then the vermicelli. Cook till they become soft. 2.Let the mixture cool. Then add the mango pulp and serve cold. Note: I used coloured Vermicelli to add some Eid feels to it.

Drink: Ginger peach drink

Ingredients: Water – 1 cup Fresh ginger – 1 to 2 inch pieces, according to the thickness of a thumb (peeled and minced) Peach (soft to gushy) – 1 (halved, pitted, and thinly sliced) Ice cubes – As many as you require Fresh mint leaves – for garnish (optional) Method: Mix all the ingredients including ice in a blender. Serve it extremely chilled. This Eid, please do not forget those who cannot celebrate. Do not forget the orphans, the widows, the aged and the handicapped. It is, after all, a day of celebration, therefore, include everyone and make this day as special as possible. Eid Mubarak everyone! All photos: Arhama Siddiqa

Pakistan won the recently held Champions Trophy despite all odds stacked against them. Victory tasted sweeter since it was achieved by crushing our arch rivals India in the final of tournament. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Pakistan with the Champions Trophy. Photo: Getty[/caption] Pakistan’s victory was received extremely well by all sections of society. They didn’t just heap praise on the team for their commendable performance, but also presented expensive prizes to team members on their return to Pakistan. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HeFck2sWm8 The government of Pakistan, led by Prime Minister (PM) Nawaz Sharif, also announced hefty cash prizes for the national team and the total prize money gifted to the players and management of the victorious team amounted to Rs200 million without tax deduction. Yes, Rs200 million, let that sink in. Each player received Rs10 million. Harris Sohail pocketed this amount without having to play even a single match in the tournament. Lucky him. Thirteen members, who were a part of the team management, including the manager, coaches, a security manager, social media manager, and a tour operations in-charge, pocketed Rs5 million each. [poll id="762"] However, I am unsure about what motivation the security manager, Mr Azhar Arif, or tour operations in-charge, Mr Shahid Aslam, provided the team with before the final in order to deserve this handsome prize money. Members of the team management are hired on weighty salaries and they continue to get their salaries irrespective of the team’s performance. If their salaries are not deducted according to the team’s poor performance, why then, should they be paid a huge amount on behalf of the team’s success? Rewarding sportsmen with monetary prizes on bagging achievements is simply wrong, especially in cricket and hockey, but unfortunately, this practice is etched in our culture. Therefore, I believe the current government is following a dangerous and unpractical precedent. The real issue here is the amount of the prize money – it is way too high and puts a huge onus on the economy of a country which is already suffering from tremendous foreign debts. Handing out Rs200 million on a whim in a country which has inadequate resources to invest in basic healthcare and education for its citizens is quite alarming. Ever heard of the word priorities, Nawaz Sharif? According to a 2016 annual report by the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP), Pakistan only spends 0.9% of its Gross Domestic Product (GDP) on healthcare. This is a shamefully low figure, and yet no genuine effort is made by the government to cut down on the wastage of finances in order to focus on the core issues gnawing our nation. Our debts are more than 60% of its GDP, but instead of improving ourselves, we are continuing to spend billions of rupees on non-productive segments. Just a day before Eidul Fitr, an unfortunate and heartbreaking incident took place in Bahawalpur where nearly 174 people burnt to death because of an oil tanker spill. The irony here is that the compensation package announced for the deceased is only 20% (Rs2 million) of the amount each member of our cricket team received from the PM. This comparison proves that powerful and famous people, either from the field of sports or any other segment of life, receive more preference than the common man in Pakistan. Cricketers earn vast amounts of money from their contract with the Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) as well as their affiliation with various brands. There is really no obligation on the federal government or any provincial government to give them cash prizes. Government-possessed finances are earned either through obtaining a loan from international donor agencies or by squeezing indirect taxes from the people of this country. It is a pity and a matter of shame that governments in Pakistan spend money with such impunity and without realising the consequences of their actions. We could have used this money constructively. Instead of doling out Rs200 million on the entire team and its management, it could have been spent on improving the strength of our national highway police so that in the future they could have better resources to prevent and handle incidents such as the Ahmedpur fire. I have travelled on the superhighway on numerous occasions and observed the lack of police resources present every time. In a democracy, the government is answerable to the public, but in our country, even democratic governments take questionable steps. Regrettably, neither the opposition nor the public questions or protests their moves. If the government of this developing country wants to award players for their effort and achievements, why not announce a more feasible sum, such as Rs1 million, instead of Rs10 million? Worldwide, the norm is that such decisions are made public after a discussion between cabinet members, but Pakistan is one country where the PM makes his decision public first and gets an approval from the cabinet later. The innocent citizens will shower accolades on the PM and his team for rewarding our cricketers, but in reality, it is just a wastage of public money. It would be great if our cricketers and the team management exhibit some generosity and use this large chunk of money on public welfare. The media and our public portrayed these cricketers as national heroes, rightfully so, but now it is up to these heroes to display nationalism and help their countrymen who are in dire need of basic necessities. People are still dying of poverty and hunger in Pakistan. Whose responsibility are they? Rather than proudly announcing vast amounts of prize money, why don’t our leaders try to empathise with the people of their nation for a change?

It’s that time of the year again – mutton lovers rejoice. Wish I could say the same but sadly, I am not a mutton lover and I am not rejoicing. But for those of you that are – let’s talk about what makes this Eidul Azha so great and not so great at the same time... 1.An endless supply of food Every Eid, I think that is the ultimate goal. How much food can I consume and how fast? Are you ready? One, two, three, let’s go… Me trying to hide my addiction to food in front of guests: Bridgit Mendler eating hungry snacks bridgit mendler GIF Me once they leave: Laff eating hungry binge laff GIF 2.The endless relatives and endless small talk I think I’ve come to the point where I’ve learnt how to manoeuvre this one. First things first, say hi hello, shake their hands/hug them. I know it’s awkward, who do you hug and who do you not hug? The Paley Center for Media hello hi kevin riverdale GIF In my defence, I’m a hugger. I’ve hugged endless aunties and uncles on Eid and been left with a ‘what is wrong with you’ look from my parents. Oops… Vice Principals hbo dating danny mcbride vice principals GIF Secondly, moving on and moving quickly, because Eid is all about meeting the most number of people in the shortest amount of time so you can go back to hanging with your cousins and talk about that weird relative who keeps asking you when you’re getting married. meeting GIF Thirdly, have a pitch ready. When they ask what you’re up to – say work/ school/ life – anything. Just do not hesitate. Be on top of your game because the longer and emptier the silences, the more room there is for the unknown, and trust me, you do not want to run into uncharted territory on Eid. From things like, “beta, why aren’t you eating enough?” to “beta, you have eaten more than enough!” From questions about your future to pictures of your grandmother’s sister’s friend’s son who she thinks you will absolutely love. We get it, you want us to get married. Two kisses, bye Felecia, I need me some sheer korma. 3.The smell Oh god, I can already imagine how bad it is going to be. Blood everywhere. Body parts lingering in the middle of the street. There was this one year where I actually saw a headless goat – no jokes. Hoping I don’t have to see or smell anything like that ever again. Stay indoors if you want my advice. Stock up on food. goat gif little goats goat running crazy goats GIF 4.The clothes Let’s be honest, #OOTD hashtags are going to be dominating your Instagram and Facebook feeds. The outpour of who wore what and by who is just another part of Eid. Get ready for the endless selfies, the vain #nofilters. It’s all a part of the big fat Eid celebration – wohoo. Can’t wait. Actually, scratch that, I can. Arika Sato selfie arika sato arikasato taking a selfie GIF 5.The never-ending meat Prepare yourselves to eat, breathe, smell and sometimes even hear meat for the next few months of your life. Yes, Eidul Azha is probably the only time of the year when you realise the worth of vegetables or basically anything that isn’t meat. 6.Sleep Time spent sleeping is not time wasted, don’t you think? You can finally refuel yourself for those tiring days you’ve spent at work and take Eid holidays as an opportunity to sleep. Sleeping in late also means *wink* less work to do since by the time you wake up, all the Eid preps would already be done. And if you’re one of those people who cringe at the sight of blood and meat, sleeping serves as an effective escape from the ‘crime scene’. 7.Spending time with your family If you have a job, the above will sound like an alien concept to you. Because by the time you come home from work, you have zero energy left to socialise, let alone spend time with your family. Eidul Azha is probably a good time to bridge the gap and even take a few photographs together. The car rides to and from your relatives’ place also serve as good ‘family time’ and you could make it even better by putting on some music and maybe singing along. 8.Anticipating eidi I think it’s safe to say everyone loves collecting wads of cash from relatives and family friends on Eidul Fitr. Usually, that’s the only factor that motivates most of us to go visiting. But Eidul Azha is slightly different. It’s more exciting because you’re just sitting in your relatives drawing room, wondering when they’ll flip open their wallet and hand over your eidi. https://giphy.com/gifs/show-money-maguire-9HQRIttS5C4Za 9.Wondering whether your boss/office will give a long Eid break Let’s be honest, who doesn’t love a long weekend, especially if it includes not going to work on Monday. I usually look up Eid holidays months in advance to cheer myself up. This Eidul Azha, holidays from Friday till Monday were announced. So get ready to eat, sleep and repeat. https://giphy.com/gifs/imoji-girls-beach-3oKIPbCZPUcL8Xmbte 10. An endless supply of seviyan (vermicelli) and mithai, especially gulab jamun This is definitely one of my favourite parts. Yes, everyone loves the savoury and scrumptious food, but one can’t overlook the dessert. I usually end up eating all the gulab jamun and seviyan and don’t leave any for the guests. https://giphy.com/gifs/bruce-DB2aLtD6QQyXe Eid mubarak! And may the food be ever in your favour.

The latest offering to come from Lollywood is Azaadi, which circles around the dream of a free Kashmir. Judging by the trailer, the movie is packed with action that will, perhaps to some extent, keep the viewers at the edge of their seats. The cast consists of Moammar Rana, the legendary Nadeem Baig, and young, talented television actresses such as Sonya Hussyn, Mariam Ansari and Erum Azam. Rana plays the role of Azaad, who leaves his home and family behind to become a freedom fighter in Indian-occupied Kashmir (IoK). While the story of the movie, including what compelled Azaad to take this path, will be revealed once we watch the movie, the trailer does reveal certain aspects. For one, the movie is shot in exotic outdoor locations that will certainly add production value. Moreover, Hussyn has proved her mettle as a television actress, as whatever bits and pieces we get to see of her in the trailer showcase her acting skills and talent. Azaadi is expected to bring to the viewers a story of struggle, passion and sacrifice. Hussyn plays the role of Zara, a British-origin, Pakistani journalist who interviews Azaad and wants to publicise his struggles. A noteworthy dialogue Zara utters in the trailer does set the premise of what might have changed Azaad’s perspective on life:

“Jahan tak main tumhain jaanti houn, tum ek peace loving insaan thay!” (As far as I know you, you were a peace-loving person)

This line gives us some clue that a transition in thought took place for Azaad, which made him choose a path of hardship and sacrifice in the name of freedom. Furthermore, the trailer also reveals a romantic element in the form of a love affair between Zara and Azaad, which might have brewed after Zara interviewed Azaad.

The stunts in the movie, though, seem digitally produced. However, interestingly, the trailer only shows the jungles and forests where Azaad and his fellow fighters fight against the Indian forces. Perhaps the areas depicting the inner parts of IoK will be shown in the movie. Freedom of Kashmir has been an ongoing issue for decades. Considering the sensitivity of the issue, it would be interesting to see how this movie approaches it. One wonders if Azaadi will be able to explain and illuminate the audiences of why and how Kashmir was occupied by India, and also appropriately show the struggles Kashmiris have been enduring since occupation.

While Rana has been a popular actor in Pakistani cinema for many years, time will tell if choosing him as a lead character was worth it. Obviously, Shaan Shahid could have been cast in the lead role in his place, however, he has already appeared in a number of action-thriller war films in the recent past.

Rana has proved to be one of the most talented romantic movie actors. His acting skills in Azaadi, if delivered with perfection, will add value to his career. Along with action, the songs of the movie have been performed by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, Quratulain Balouch, Sahir Ali Bagga, Jabar Abbas and Shafqat Amanat Ali, which will certainly bring melody to the action that surrounds the film.

The movie is set to release on Eidul Fitr 2018. All photos: Screenshots

It was only early afternoon and the clear, dazzling sky, void of a single piece of cloud, was raining fire. There was still a week left of fasting before Eidul Fitr. Abdul wiped his hot face with his thick handkerchief as he walked back to the servant quarters at the far end of the palatial home, where he worked as a driver. He had unbuttoned his uniform shirt by the time he reached his quarters.

“Assalam Alaikum,” his wife emerged from the other room. “Walaikum Assalam,” Abdul mumbled. “Please turn the fan on.”

Sajida looked at him sympathetically.

“It is on full,” she answered. “You’ve just come from a very cold car.” “Why don’t you feel the heat?” he joked. “Because I don’t know the comfort of air-conditioning,” she smiled. “Take a nap before you are called again. There are five hours left for iftar.”

Abdul nodded weakly. He was drained from driving around Madam and the two choti (little) Madams since mid-morning.

“What’s for iftar?” he asked Sajida. “Watermelon and Rooh Afza. There is no ice. There is Qeema and roti for dinner,” Sajida sounded cheerful.

They had meat only once or twice a week, so it was a treat.

There was a pile of new dresses on the designer sofa in the ice-cool, spacious family room. The huge glass windows with sophisticated drapery pulled to the sides overlooked a perfectly manicured lawn that was shining emerald even in the blistering heat. Sixteen-year-old Mahvish sat pouting on the large traditional takht (seat) in the room. Upholstered in a royally traditional, magnificent print of damask with matching throw pillows and large gao-takyas (pillows), it had cost a small fortune. Fifteen-year-old Aalia was holding a new dress to herself admiringly in front of an ornate floor mirror.

“That’s the one I liked,” Mahvish glared. “But you never liked this in the boutique,” Aalia answered gaily.

She dumped the dress with the rest and rummaged through the pile for something else.

“What are you doing?” Mrs Tahira Khan entered the room.

She walked to the small hill of new dresses on the sofa and started sorting them.

“You’ve mixed them all up! Where are mine?” “They’re all there, Mama, but Aalia took the one I liked,” Mahvish complained. “She always does this and you never say anything.” “Oh, come on darling,” Tahira cajoled the hard-to-please Mahvish as she sorted her own dresses from the radiant pile of fabric.

That entire morning’s shopping, three or four dresses for each, had cost nearly two lacs.

“Don’t you like this one?” she showed Mahvish. “No,” Mahvish snapped. “All the ones I bought today are for the iftar parties.” “Don’t worry darling,” Tahira smiled at her pretty daughter dressed in skinny jeans and T-shirt. “You can buy more before Eid.” “I want two for Eid too,” Aalia declared. “Of course, Jaani. Did you call Daddy about tonight’s iftar?” she asked them. “You call him,” Mahvish replied. “He never listens to us.” “You should have him fast the entire Ramazan,” Aalia giggled. “Then he’ll always be on time for every iftar party.” “No jani,” Tahira shook her head. “Daddy works very hard. People who work very hard and young kids like yourself are exempt,” she dutifully explained to her daughters.

Just then, the maid, Shamim, wheeled in an elegant glass and wooden trolley laden with snacks and tea.

“Thank God,” Mahvish eyed the cake and the samosas hungrily.

She picked up a glass of water from the trolley and took a sip. She then looked distastefully at Shamim.

“Why are there only three ice cubes in it?” she demanded, scowling. “Don’t you know I like no less than six or seven?” she thrust the glass angrily in her hand, splashing water on the glistening floor. “Mama, we need to leave now,” Aalia reminded Tahira. “I have to go to the mall to check out the new store and then the parlour to get our hair done for the iftar party.” “Ok,” Tahira replied. “Keep your dresses too. We’ll get dressed at the parlour.”

It was still blazing at 4pm when Abdul’s phone rang. He awoke, startled. It was Madam calling.

“Get ready Abdul, we have to leave for the iftar.” “But Madam, it is only four,” Abdul was confused. “We have other things to do too,” she ordered. “We’re waiting.”

Abdul rushed to get ready. Just then, eight-year-old Alima woke from her nap.

“Are you leaving?” she asked. “Will you be back for iftar?” “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he answered hurriedly.

Sajida hurriedly pressed two dates wrapped in paper in his hand.

“Make sure you open your fast on time,” she reminded him.

Madam always seemed to forget that he was fasting and Abdul’s self-respect kept him from reminding her. Abdul dropped Madam and Choti Madams at the entrance of a high-class mall. They instantly went from a cool car to an equally cool mall, leaving Abdul to find a parking spot. He was now used to waiting in the hot car, sometimes for hours. He wasn’t allowed to operate the AC in a parked car. He parked at the end of the busy street. Presently, his eyes caught a cart vendor with piles of glistening, sparkling bangles. He remembered that Alima’s Eid dress was green and pink. Sajida had bought the material from Sunday bazaar and was stitching it herself. Luckily, he found matching bangles in a pretty design of pink and green. He knew Sajida would be displeased. She was very strict about saving money for Alima’s education. Abdul spent another hour in the car before finally dropping the ladies at the iftar. Decked out in new clothes, hairdos and makeup, the three Madams gracefully swept into the glittering lights. Their new attires from the mall for the iftar plus the parlour bill cost well over one lac and they still had to buy clothes for the three days of Eid celebrations.

Ten minutes before iftar, Abdul rushed home. Alima had fasted all through Ramazan and was very proud of herself. Later, Abdul handed her the small polythene bag and watched her expressions of delight.

“Oh Abba! They’re so pretty!” she chirped. “And they’re exactly the colour of my Eid dress!” “Thank Allah (swt),” Sajida smiled at her. “Who not only gave you a new dress for Eid but matching bangles too.” “Yes, Amma, I thanked Him in my heart,” Alima nodded. “Oh Abba, this will be such a wonderful Eid!” her eyes were glistening with joy. “Dear child,” Abdul pat her head lovingly. “Eid is only wonderful when you spend Ramazan in fasting, praying, and reading Quran. It is not wonderful because of new things.” “Yes Abba,” Alima nodded. “This is why this will be a wonderful Eid because I am doing all the good things.”

Abdul smiled and kissed her head.

Three more days were left before the end of Ramazan. Choti Madams and their two friends were in the lawn, planning for their Chaand Raat party. Shamim had served their snacks outside. Uzma asked for more ice-cold Coke. Looking around, Aalia saw Alima walking in a distance.

“Alima!” she yelled.

Startled, Alima turned to see Aalia beckoning.

“Yes, Madam,” she walked up and asked politely. She was in awe of these pretty, glamorous madams with clothes that made her lower her gaze. “Go tell Shamim to get cold Coke,” she ordered.

Hina looked at Alima with interest.

“What’s your name?” she asked. “Alima,” Alima replied. “Have a piece of cake,” Hina teased. “I can’t. I’m fasting,” Alima tone was solemn. “Fasting!” Hina was amazed. “You’re too young! That’s child abuse…” Uzma eyed Alima sympathetically too. “Go find Shamim,” Aalia shooed her away.

Alima walked away rapidly. These young Madams could be very intimidating.

“It’s none of your business whether or not they abuse her,” Aalia was irritated. “Such a young child forced to fast,” Hina felt pity. “The poor have no life. What kind of Eid will she have? It’s the merriest time with the shopping and partying, and them…?” she shook her head. “Stop commiserating with the poor and focus on our party,” Mahvish snapped.

It was the night of 27^th Ramazan that day. But it was imperative for the Choti Madams to plan their elaborate party.

“Amma, why don’t the Choti Madams and their friends fast?”Alima asked Sajida later. “What they do is their business, Alima. You focus on your own self,” Sajida replied gently. “But Amma, if they don’t fast, pray or read Quran during Ramazan, how can they have a wonderful Eid?” Alima was confused.

Her heart was so full of happiness and joy at fasting every day and not missing any of her prayers. She felt like she was earning her Eid joy.

“When you make Dua (prayer), ask Allah (swt) to give guidance to the Choti Madams,” Sajida smiled and explained. “If Allah (swt) turns their hearts, they too will fast.” “I’ll make dua from today,” Alima replied solemnly.

'Imagine,' she later thought sadly, 'not being able to enjoy the day of Eid. Rich people must have such sorrowful and gloomy Eids. I must pray to Allah (swt) to turn their hearts so that they can know the real happiness of Eid day.'

“Oh Allah Mian,” she looked up at the sky, “Thank you for not making me a rich person.”

She thanked Allah (swt) fervently.

Festival season marks an ebullient change in our otherwise monotonous lives. After a month of fasting, Eid is welcomed across the Muslim world all too enthusiastically, wherein food symbolises the various hues of happiness. Families and friends gather to cherish the festivities and amid this chirpy laughter and instances of celebratory spirit, food has a vital part to play. I bring you three such delectable and sumptuous recipes that are sure to win you all praises for your Eid feast! Chicken Handi Biryani Biryani is not just food but it is synonymous with life in our part of the world. It is the most celebrated delicacy and is, without an iota of doubt, joy personified. However, variant the taste buds of the very many members of a family, biryani brings them all to the table to relish jovial moments together. I experimented a bit with the traditional biryani recipe and tweaked it to fuse it with another local favourite, chicken handi, and came up with this finger-licking good and delish chicken handi biryani recipe ever. With Eid round the corner, this recipe is a must try to make unforgettably delectable memories this festive season. Ingredients: To marinate chicken Whole chicken: 1 (cut in 12 pieces) Ginger garlic paste: 2 tbsp Green chillies: 1 tbsp (chopped) Onions: 3 (steamed and puréed) Onions: 5 (sliced, fried and crushed) Turmeric powder: ½ tsp Red chilli powder: 2 tbsp Salt: 1 tsp or to taste Chicken stock powder: 1 tbsp Yogurt: 1½ cups Tomato purée: ¾ cup (homemade) Packaged Chicken Handi Masala: 2 tbsp To cook Ghee or oil: 1 cup Packaged biryani masala: 3 tbsp Tomatoes: 4-5 large (finely chopped) Green chillies: 7-8 large (stalks removed) Dried apricots (Aalo Bukhara): 7-8 Coriander: as required (finely chopped) Mint leaves: as required (finely chopped) Garam masala (mixed spice): 1½ tbsp (grounded) Garam masala Green cardamoms: 4-5 Black cardamoms: 3 Cloves: 4-5 Black pepper: 1 tsp Cinnamon sticks: 2-3 White cumin seeds: 1 tbsp Black cumin seeds: 1 tbsp Fennel flower: 1 Mace and nutmeg: ¼ tsp For rice Long grain basmati rice: 1 kg (soaked for an hour) Cardamoms: 3-4 small Black cardamom: 2 Cloves: 3-4 Cinnamon Sticks: 2 Bay leaf: 1 Salt: 4 tbsp Chicken stock powder: 2 tbsp For assembling Orange food colour mixed in milk or water (I prefer milk) Fried onions Coriander and mint leaves Packaged biryani masala: 2 tbsp Ghee: 4 tbsp A clay pot Chapati dough: 2 cups Method: 1. Put all the ingredients for garam masala in a coffee grinder and process to a fine consistency. 2. Marinate chicken pieces with all the ingredients mentioned under marination and let it rest for two to three hours. 3. Boil soaked rice along with all the whole spices, salt and chicken powder. Once rice is three quarters cooked, drain the water and keep rice in strainer. 4. To cook chicken, heat some ghee in a clay pot and add the marinated chicken along with all the juices to it. 5. Once the chicken is half tender, add in chopped tomatoes and cook further till chicken is done. 6. Add in dried apricots, chopped coriander, mint and whole green chillies. Simmer on low flame with lid on till ghee surfaces. 7. Spread an even layer of all the par boiled rice over the cooked chicken. Drizzle food colour dissolved in milk, over rice. Sprinkle chopped coriander leaves, mint leaves and fried onions on top. 8. Heat four tablespoons ghee in a frying pan and add two tablespoons of packaged biryani masala in it. Pour the hot ghee over rice. 9. Wrap the clay pot’s lid with aluminium foil. Apply chapati dough around the edges of the pot and press the lid over it, making sure there are no openings left for the steam to escape. 10. Let it simmer on the lowest heat possible for 20 minutes.

Mango Chocolate Dessert Shots A quick yet appetisingly attractive dessert to adorn your Eid trolleys and Eid dinners. Mango being the star ingredient goes delectably well, the decadent combination, with chocolate. You may assemble the dessert in a big dessert bowl, however, the dessert shots add an oomph to the dessert table. Makes about 12-16 shot glasses Ingredients: Tea biscuits (I used Marie): 2 cups (broken) Milk: 1 cup Condensed milk: ¼ cup Mango flavoured pudding or regular caramel pudding: 1 cup (prepared as per instructions) Full fat cream: ½ cup For mango puree Mango: 3 cups (diced) Milk: ¼ cup Condensed milk: 3 tbsp For milk chocolate ganache Milk chocolate: 200 grams Cream: 100ml Coffee: 1 tsp Garnishing Cocoa powder to dust Mango cubes Method: 1. In a bowl, mix together milk and condensed milk. 2. In shot glasses, place some broken pieces of biscuit as the first layer and sprinkle some of the sweetened milk on them. 3. Next, prepare milk chocolate ganache. Heat cream along with a teaspoon of coffee in a saucepan and once bubbles begin to appear around edges, remove from heat. Quickly add in chopped milk chocolate and stir to form a smooth and shiny ganache. 4. Spoon the ganache into the glasses over the layer of biscuits. 5. Now prepare mango purée. Blend together mango cubes, milk and condensed milk till a thick purée is formed. Add a tablespoon of it in each glass over the chocolate layer. 6. Prepare pudding as per instructions on the pack and let it come to room temperature. Whisk in full fat cream and pour some into each glass right over the mango layer. 7. Finally, dust some cocoa powder on top and place a cube of mango to finish off. 8. Place in the fridge to chill well before serving.

Mango Butterscotch Trifle Mangoes make the most indulgent of desserts but complimenting them with just the right flavours is divinely luxurious. This mango butterscotch trifle is an utterly ambrosial delicacy that has over time become one of the most raved about dessert amongst my friends and family. Soft sponge slices drenched in mango milk and layered with butterscotch-flavoured custard and mango purée together translates into a devilishly comforting dessert. Ingredients: Cake slices: 10-15 pounds Mango: 1 (cut into cubes) Sugar: 3 tbsp Milk: 1 glass For custard Milk: 1 ½ litre Mango vanilla powder: 5-6 tbsp Sugar: ½ cup Full fat cream: ½ cup For butterscotch sauce Butter: 100grams Brown sugar: ½ cup Cream: ½ cup Vanilla essence: few drops Salt: a pinch To assemble Mango: 2 cups (cut in cubes) Mango purée: 2 cups Method: 1. Bring milk to a boil and whisk in vanilla custard powder that has been dissolved in some room temperature milk as instructed on the packet. As the custard thickens, stir in sugar and cream. Let cool. 2. For butterscotch sauce, cook together brown sugar, cream and butter. Once it reaches a thick consistency, add in a pinch of salt and few drops of vanilla essence. Let it cool. 3. To assemble, blend together a glass of milk with pulp of one mango and sugar. Layer pound cake slices in a trifle bowl and soak them with the prepared mango milk. 4. Next, stir three to four tablespoons of butterscotch sauce in chilled custard. 5. Spread an even layer of mango cubes over the cake slices and pour a thick layer of custard on top of it. 6. Finally, spread a layer of mango purée on top. 7. Drizzle some cream on mango purée and use a toothpick to create swirls.

Have a very happy and blessed Eid! All photos: Nazeeha Khan

As a long and exhausting month of Ramazan (because of the extreme heat) comes to a close, I am rather grateful for the lavish sehris and iftars I have been blessed with to complete this journey. Every year, Muslims around the world wait for this month to not only repent for their sins but also for the chance to indulge in delicious food at sunrise and sunset. However, only the privileged get to experience this side of Ramazan. There are thousands of people out there who fast with just the intention to fill their stomachs, uncertain of whether they will find food at sunset. There are many who have to beg to sustain their fast and everything related to it. Then there are others who have unlimited amount of help who cook for them, which means no family member has to step inside the kitchen, especially in the relatively inconvenient hours of the day to make food during sehri time. Others do not have that option of affording help so what traditionally ends up happening is that predominantly, the women of the house have to take that responsibility to make sure everyone in the house is fed. Therefore, fasting itself demonstrates socio-economic class inequality, not to mention that fasting is also a gender issue. I am lucky enough to be amongst those who do not have to spend much time in the kitchen, but I am aware of how different women have differing experiences of Ramazan. Firstly, I do not believe in having a heavy sehri; I make do with just water. However, during iftar time, I sit quietly at the table, waiting for the food to be served to me. My mother, however, does spend a good amount of time in the kitchen in the evenings, sometimes preparing food or guiding the help on how to do it. I’ve witnessed her many times being drained out and drenched in sweat from being in the kitchen, while she’s fasting, a few hours or even minutes before the Maghrib (dusk) prayers. Her involvement and presence in the kitchen is always needed and much appreciated. In addition, I know many of my friends wake up during sehri time to help their mothers and sisters prepare full meals, slaving away in the heat of the kitchen while the men wait to be fed. Alright fine, maybe the men are treated special in this case because they must wake up and get to work but then what about the working women? What about working mothers? What about those women who don’t have the privilege of not working at all because they need that income to run the house? They have to wake up at the same time as the men and go out and hustle the same way while fasting as well. Why then, as a culture, do we not encourage men to take on the responsibility of helping the women in the kitchen, if the food is to be consumed collectively? The general justification is that it is spiritually rewarding for women to cook for their families and care for the children. Why should there be extra pressure on cooking? The month is supposed to be about reduced consumption and if that’s what we care about, or at least pretend to, we should expect less cooking, considering women spend more time in the kitchen during Ramazan than on any regular day. Women, too, need time for spiritual engagement in this special period, which is supposed to be different from daily life. However, as unfair as it is, their housework, child care and other duties increase instead. Taking care of children, having a professional life and having to take on full responsibility of providing food for the family is physically draining. Amongst all this chaos, how are women to find the time to concentrate on prayer, when practically speaking, they need that time to catch up on sleep and rest. And this is not only limited to Ramazan. Come chaand raat, there are some rituals that many women (and men too, because there really isn’t anything wrong with it) like to take up before Eid arrives. They want to get to the salon for grooming purposes, get mehndi (henna) done, do some last-minute shopping for bangles, clothes and the works. My typical chaand raat starts off at Liberty Market, a central spot for mehndi and bangle stalls. It is always bustling with people from all types of backgrounds getting ready to celebrate, immersed in shopping and eating away with their families and friends. There is no way that I compromise on getting my mehndi done – that’s the one thing I look forward to most on Eid! Even though I’ve got an entire closet full of glass bangles, there just can’t be enough of them in my life so the bangle stall is my next stop. The road side fries with the sprinkled masala on top at Liberty is a go-to snack while I finish the rest of my chores, and then the rest of the night is spent mingling with my loved ones. However, I am one of those privileged ones who do not have to worry about preparation for Eid. For those who do, they make sure everything at home is done in a timely manner, all the while finding time to dedicate to themselves. If they manage to do all their chores on chaand raat, they know they have to wake up early the next morning to prepare Eid food, clean the house and get ready to host guests, while the men simply get dressed in their best clothes and wait till the food is served. The women of the house must also always maintain a smile on their face and not show any signs of exhaustion or regret for having to spend more time in the kitchen. During our Eid celebrations, both men and women need to divide responsibilities around the house because there is absolutely nothing wrong with men offering to cook a meal for a change, because not only will that reduce the pressure for women to practically do everything, it will pleasantly give them some time off to focus on themselves. Eid is about coming together and celebrating our efforts of a long month of piousness and connection with God, but we also need to celebrate the women who work tirelessly to provide the very food with which fasting is possible for many people in the first place. They deserve a helping hand in preparing for occasions. In the midst of all the celebration, let’s all make sure the women around us who work tirelessly during Ramazan get the much needed pampering they deserve and help them make the most of chaand raat and Eid festivities! Eid Mubarak to everyone out there celebrating!

For every other day of the year, deciding what to wear early morning would be a task in itself, but not today. A kurta is hanging in the corner of my wardrobe. The entire year, I pretended it wasn’t there, but not today. Today is Eid in New York. It begins by embracing a traditional outfit to feel somewhat closer to home. A shower early morning and as usual a rush to the mosque is the norm. While trying to beat traffic to catch Eid prayer, a call back home to my parents is my favourite part. Each year, my mom asks my elder sibling and me why we couldn’t leave early to pray so that we didn’t have to rush now. Each year, we come up with the same excuses:

“He showered too long!” “He didn’t wake up on time!”

So on and so forth. Had we been at home, none of these excuses would have worked because my mom is a walking alarm clock. The mosque is a roughly 30-minute drive from home and during the entire ride, Skype helps us feel our parents are with us, along with another sibling tuning in from London. Of course, a couple thousand miles exist between us all, but not today. Today is Eid. We pretend to be in the same car at this particular moment. None of us are kids; the harsh reality of being apart on this special occasion is aching in each one of our hearts. Hence, to ease the pain, we laugh it off with a few family jokes until we reach the mosque. After parking the car, a small sprint to the mosque is part of our healthy routine, or in other words, we might miss the prayer otherwise. After offering the Eid prayer and briefly hugging Eid Mubarak to the individuals we just met at the mosque, we make a trip back home. The real agony of being a student abroad begins this very moment. The very instant you step in the house after returning from the prayer, there is silence inside to welcome you wholeheartedly. The kitchen smells as it would when no one has touched it for hours. Nothing special is being cooked. Had I been at home, sneaking into the kitchen to bother my mom as well as taking a peek at what’s cooking would have been my plan. Kheer was often on the menu. This Eid, however, I know exactly what’s in the fridge. Nothing will surprise me, so I just walk past it. Normally in Pakistan, the afternoon would be an ideal time to make family plans for the day but here I stood, looking out the window. Luckily, this time around, it’s the window of my living room and not the finance class I found myself attending last Eid. No sound of excitement buzzing in the streets. No kids running around fresh out of the shower, including those that won’t even wash their face for the rest of the year. No relatives hogging the phone calls. Oh Pakistan – I miss you. There is a lot to admire about having an opportunity to study abroad, but not today. Today is Eid; it should be spent at home with your loved ones. Some ground realities prevent a reunion with the whole family. Therefore, you sit and ponder why am I abroad? Tuning into channels from back home often helps avoid indulging in thoughts that demoralise the entire mood. It is still Eid after all; the spirit must be kept alive. Normally, Pakistani channels would be brimming with meaningless political shows. Slinging mud at each other on live shows is the usual form of entertainment on Pakistani channels, but not today. Today is Eid. Some sanity prevails in media as well so it’s bearable to watch for those of us abroad. The activities outside are no different than any other day. The sun is beating down, remote sounds of traffic passing by and birds chirping. Nothing is different, yet inside our closed walls and a loud TV, we pretend that this day is different. It’s our Eid abroad. Of course, an Eid picture is mandatory at some point in the day whether you are in Pakistan or not. Countless clicks in the same kurta you ignored the whole year makes for a great love story. Pictures often find space to live in the phone’s gallery their entire life, but not today. Today is Eid. Pictures must make a journey from the phone’s gallery to social media platforms. As the afternoon hours pass, a plan for the evening is a must to close the day on a high. Locations to go eat are limited especially if you are in a non-Muslim country and more often than not you end up in the same place you ate before. It’s the same menu and the same you. It should taste exactly the same as any other day, but it does not today. Today is Eid. We will pretend it tastes differently. As the day comes to an end, it becomes evident that Eid in Pakistan is unmatched. Spending time with your whole family, watching swarm of kids hunting down adults for Eidi, greeting forgotten relatives and trying every food item you can get your hands on is what makes Eid special. The most we can do abroad is put in an effort to make the day feel a little different than any other day. The entire year, the hours would fly by so fast that you would find it hard to keep up with the fast pace of life abroad, but not today. Today, the hours are infinitely longer and the silence more prominent. Today is Eid. I want to be home, not abroad. Eid Mubarak!

It’s almost time to put your rozas away and bring out the charming 'please eidi me' smiles. However, in the woke-era of 2018, celebrating Eid is a much more complex and charged event than it ever has been in the past. And with the elections coming up, probably not the best time to have the entire khandaan (whole family) gathered under the same roof. I realise not everyone possesses the same spontaneity and adaptability that I do, so I’ve put together a eight-step guide to help you expertly navigate through the maze of Eidul Fitr 2018: 1. Mom versus eidi Repeat after me: you will never incur a net-eidi profit on Eid. If a generous relative (has never been spotted, currently a beautiful myth) gives you a crisp Rs5,000 note, either your mom will suddenly appear to give you the “stare” so that you promptly return it, or your mom will explain why it’s a moral danger for youth to have large sums of money, and take it from you for safekeeping, only for you to never see it again. The rules of eidi are pretty much the same of that of a casino: the house always wins, and you will always lose. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="601"] Photo: Giphy[/caption] 2. The 'who will you vote for' relatives I know the celebration of Eid is really grand, but the elections are just around the corner, and if you don’t talk about them enough, how will everyone know how smart you are? You can do one of two things: either spend equal time talking about Eid and the elections or, if you feel really smart, talk about them at the same time (Exhibit A: yaar the only thing I want as eidi is for “insert-name-of-completely-incompetent-politician” to win this year.) [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="603"] Photo: Giphy[/caption] 3. The Roza Count Association The beauty of the Roza Count Association is that they don’t have age limits, and anyone can be a member. The only requirement they have is that you have the boldness, confidence and audacity to ask everyone how many fasts they kept, and ask repeatedly until they give you a definitive answer. For heightened impact and efficiency, they will ask you this in public when the maximum number of people are in hearing range to hear you quietly mumble “I left a few, wasn’t feeling well” and look at you with disappointment and disdain. These folks are probably the most hardworking and diligent team in the entire country. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="610"] Photo: Giphy[/caption] 4. The “health concerned” aunties The most beloved ice-breaking sentence in our country is,

“Arey, have you put on weight?”

I honestly believe aunties don’t even feel you have put on weight in actuality; they just say it out of habit. It’s their sincere, albeit misguided, way of saying,

“We don’t have anything in common, but this is me trying to connect with you.”

So just make sure you have a pre-Ramazan and post-Ramazan picture of yourself available on your phone, so you can protect what little dignity you have left. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="608"]

Photo: Giphy[/caption] 5. Satan’s whispers Almost as if ordained by God to test your faith and conscience, there will always be a relative who gives you a crisp big Rs5,000 note and says,

“Distribute it evenly with your siblings.”

And you ask yourself,

“What siblings?”

In that moment, you forget ever having siblings. Suddenly, you’re in a tug-of-war between good and evil, but honestly, just steal the money and ask for forgiveness – its Eid. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="608"]

Photo: Giphy[/caption] 6. The relatives with the Triple Touch Down Hugs Now is the right time to work on your shoulders to brace for that over enthusiastic aunty or uncle whom you barely know, but who comes towards you with the zeal of a murderous bull and rams into your shoulder first. Keep on your toes guys – it's hug or be hugged out there. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="455"]

Photo: Giphy[/caption] 7. The children are coming On Eid, rishteydaar (relatives) so distant they technically shouldn’t even be sharing the planet with you, will come to your house in hordes. Along with them will be children who initiate conversations with,

“Aap ke paas game hai?” (Do you have any games?)

Or move on to,

“Tou koi tou game hoga aap ke phone mein?” (You must have some games in your phone?)

And end it with,

“Aap jhoot bol rahay hain, mujhe pata hai aap ke paas game hai!” (You’re lying, I know you have a game in your phone!)

Since they’re not your immediate family, you can’t get away with telling them off, so the best thing to do is to physically confront the little buggers and protect what’s yours. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"]

Photo: Giphy[/caption] 8. The feeding patrol If your family is anything like mine, you’ll have the khala (maternal aunt) who gets really offended if you don’t eat everything on the table. A normal khandaan in Pakistan is a conglomerate of many such khalas and phuppos (paternal aunts), seasoned with a chaachi (paternal uncle’s wife) and maami (maternal uncle’s wife) every now and then. Don’t worry, you’re so close to the end, and rest assured this too shall pass. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="641"]

Photo: Giphy[/caption] This heated Ramazan has been a little tough on all of us. It’s been tough to the point that people felt it was a smart idea to wage a full blown movement against a tree species. Remember: more than anything else, Eid is about dressing up really well and sleeping in the entire day. Now let’s go and drown our sorrows in a fresh hot bowl of Sheer Khurma. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="638"]

Photo: Giphy[/caption] Eid Mubarak!

“Could I hit him if he groped me again?” she thought to herself as she made a fist and punched thin air around her.

Cursing under her breath, she returned to the pile of clothes she was rummaging through. She could hardly see anything inside the dark tent. Making a blind choice in the dark, she pulled out a piece of cloth and turned around to leave. She was about to miss her truck. Cautious as to not literally step on anyone’s toes, Laila hopped about the tent silently, avoiding crushing her family members who were still asleep. On her way out, she passed the sleeping silhouette of her father. As the head and protector of the family, Laila’s father always slept near the tent’s entrance.

“But if they come for us, it will not make any difference,” a sense of foreboding overcame her.

She recited Quranic verses under her breath and left her family under the protection of God’s verses. Laila stepped outside her tent breathing fresh morning air. At the crack of dawn, the Beqqa valley looked serenely beautiful. Momentarily forgetting her plight, Laila started running towards the main road. The cold morning air bounced off her face as she ran towards the highway. For a brief moment, she truly felt her own age.

“This feels good! I haven’t run like this in ages,” she thought to herself.

Breathing heavily, she reached the truck spot. The truck seemed to be a little late.

“How great would it be if the truck didn’t come today… but then what would I take back home?” Her briefly careless moment of childhood was over in a jiffy.

In the distance, she heard the truck’s roar and then the babble of over a dozen children running towards the truck. The truck jolted to a halt in front of them. Laila slowly shifted to the back trying to blend in with the other kids and then she saw his leering face in the front of the car. He emerged out of the car, a six-feet giant holding a baseball bat in his hand and started yelling at them to climb in the back of the truck. Seeing him, Laila quickly jumped aboard and sat down on the floor of a truck sandwiched between two bickering siblings. He climbed up after the children making sure the head count was correct. Just as Laila looked up to see whether he had climbed down, her eyes met his and suddenly a cold shiver went down her spine. Those eyes were soiled; soiled with malice and lust. Scared, she looked away quickly. Making sure the headcount was in check, Akram secured the lock on the back of the truck and they started off towards the fields. Back home, it was not a daily struggle like it was here in Beqqa. She remembered her days back in her own country before the war, before the torn streets, before grenades and explosions, ambulances and debris. She fondly remembered how the start of Ramazan was announced on the mosque speakers in her city and how she would help her mother and sisters prepare festive snacks for iftar. Her favourite time of the year, however, was Eidul Fitr at the end of the holy month of Ramazan. It was when her father would take them to the market to buy sweets, clothes, shoes, toys and what not. But after fleeing home, she had not even stepped foot inside a sweet shop all these months. She had only caught a glimpse though, once from far. Soon after their migration to Lebanon, they had been starving for days when her desperate father took her and her younger brother to a crowded market nearby. He had made them sit in the corner with some homeless-looking children and told them to wait there as he disappeared into the crowd. Gazing around her, 12-year-old Laila was puzzled as to why their father had abandoned them in a market full of strangers. They waited for their father for what seemed like ages. In all this time, they watched other children besides them running towards people who came out of the shops, demanding money or food. It was then that she realised why her father had brought them there. It was then that Laila had felt utterly broken. Her eight-year-old brother was clueless and kept asking for their father. She waited for a long time and finally got up to follow the example of other children begging in the market around them. Holding her brother’s arm, she walked slowly towards a couple emerging from a fruit shop. She had just raised her hand reluctantly when suddenly somebody grabbed her hand and turned her around. It was her sobbing father, pulling her and her brother into a crushing embrace, he had apologised profusely. He had taken them back. They had moved to Beqqa valley after that, where their father started work on a house construction site, and for those two few months, they could have two meals every day. Later on, seeing as it was neither steady income nor enough, Laila had started going to the potato fields to work with all the other refugee camp children. In the fields, she had jobs like picking potatoes, olives or toiling in the cotton fields all day long. Her bosses were sometimes good men but then she met Akram, who made her severely uneasy with his leering gaze and untoward advances. She tried telling her mother about it once but she had stopped her from slandering her boss.

“Don’t make excuses for skipping work, Laila! Your boss is the most pious man I have seen in Lebanon. They say he never misses a single prayer!”

That Laila knew was true but she also knew older girls had been touched by him inappropriately, while she also heard a family that lived on the other side of the refugee camp had filed a report for their 16-year-old daughter who went missing from the fields. She had tried to convince her mother but to no avail. Starvation and fatigue can cloud even a mother’s judgment, especially one suffering from arthritis with five mouths to feed.

“My dear Laila, look at the young ones here. They need you right now. If you don’t work these days, we would starve to death during the Eid holidays. If you are good and if my mistress gives me a bonus, I shall take you and your sisters out to buy sweets on Eid. Okay?” Her mother appeased her, stroking her hair lovingly.

Looking into her expectant eyes, Laila nodded in agreement.

“Maybe I don’t need to be scared of him. I should just keep working like I am. Mother wouldn’t let me work if she thought I could be in danger,” she convinced herself, silencing the voices in her head.

It was the 19^th day of Ramazan when Akram announced he needed to employ some children in the storage units off the fields for a few days before Eid.

“I will choose five workers myself based on two days’ work. These workers will get double wages.”

Laila thought about what her mother had said about Eid.

“If I work hard today, I might be chosen and I could really use the extra money to bring sweets for everyone this Eid.”

Smiling, she geared up for the day ahead. She worked tirelessly, even through the lunch break. Food was scarce anyways. She was making her last trip to the loading truck when Akram suddenly called her from behind. Her heart lurched in her chest as she turned around to face him. He took the basket off her head and put it on the ground.

“Don’t be scared of me. Sit here for a minute.” Laila stood as if frozen to the spot. “Oh dear! Fine don’t sit down. I will though. Do you want me to choose you for the double wages tomorrow?” He asked Laila who was still staring at her toes.

After a whole minute, she slowly nodded still keeping her head down.

“Good! Wear your best clothes tomorrow. There will be an inspection. Look your best,” he told her, looking upon her face intently. “That’s all. Go finish your work now.”

Her heart racing, she ran to the loading truck. All through her ride back home, Laila thought upon her conversation with Akram. There was something about his gaze; it crept over you like a creeping vine climbing up a tree. She sat squeezed among her fellows who were weary from the hard day’s work, squirming in their places, smelly and sweaty. Wrinkling her nose, she held her head up high trying to get some fresh air.

“Why did he say I need to wear good clothes, if it is just a storage area inspection?” she pondered.

Loud whispers around her shook her out of her reverie. She could see subdued faces of girls all around her who were also probably wondering the same thing as her. She couldn’t share with anyone what he said to her though. If he found out, it would all be over for her and her family. He had been controlling the permits for most families in their refugee camps. Her father also gave him a part of his wages every week as payment for utilities. She wore her mother’s best scarf the next day. Along with four other children, one boy and the rest girls, Akram drove them away from the fields. Two other girls sitting with Laila sobbed continuously. Upon hearing their constant sniffling, Akram barked at them to stay quiet. It took almost an hour to reach the destination. It was getting dark outside. It was way past maghreb (dusk) when they reached the destination. It was a small but well-lit building in the middle of an open field. City lights flickered in the distance. They were asked to form a line and follow Akram into the building through a backdoor. They found themselves in a long dimly lit hallway, where faint sounds of native music could be heard through the walls. They were told to wait outside while Akram went inside a room, leaving them under the watchful eye of a menacing looking guard. He made them sit on a bench on the side of the door. The only boy among them asked for some water and received a smack on his head by the guard. Nobody spoke after that. One after the other, they were taken into the room by Akram until only Laila and the boy were left. Finally it was Laila’s turn. Her heart was hammering in her chest. This place did not look like a storage unit at all.

“You will follow me inside and don’t say a single word until someone asks you a question. You will do as I say or I will break something of yours. Understood?” He warned her.

She nodded hastily, scared witless.

“And take this off!” he yanked her scarf off her head.

She gasped loudly and covered her hair with hands.

“No! No! Keep your hands to the side.”

Nudging her forwards, he opened the door and took her inside. Laila looked around the room which was lit up and filled with chairs. About a dozen men sat there babbling, eating and drinking.

“Gentlemen! Here is the finest piece of tonight’s collection. Her skin glows like the sun, her eyes are the colour of a raging ocean during a storm and her body is fresh as a flower. So which one of you shall be with her tonight?” announced Akram.

Laila stood frozen to the spot as she heard him say all that. She wasn’t sure as to what he could mean. She zoned out of her current situation as if lost in a trance. She couldn’t hear what anyone was saying. She wanted to run but her legs were jelly. Her mother’s sad eyes swirled in front of her. Words that she had spoken to her that day rang in her ears,

“My dear Laila, look at the young ones here…look at the young ones here…look at the young ones here…”

Her father’s kind face swam before her eyes. Laila finally understood her mother’s negligence of her apprehensions about Akram and her father’s averted eyes. She finally understood.

“My young brothers and sisters will finally have sweets on Eid; maybe even new clothes.”

Akram grabbed her hand, breaking her train of thought. He then took her to a middle-aged man who was grinning; flashing his gold teeth at her. Akram then gave her hand to his. Without resistance, Laila’s limp hand was firmly grasped by him.

“Payment is upfront but I cannot give you more than two hours with her. I have to drop her back by midnight,” Akram said to the guy.

Nodding happily, the fat middle-aged bastard took Laila away with him. She went with him, perhaps because she was afraid for her life but more so because she wanted to save the Eid. After two and half hours, she limped out of the room. Akram was waiting for her. The rest had already been assembled. Two girls had bruises on their faces and the boy was not able to stand up straight.

“You did well. Now here is your money,” Akram started distributing their wages.

He leaned towards Laila and whispered, “He really liked you. I think I might also go for it myself, but after Ramazan. I am a Muslim after all. Here’s your Eidi.” Laila took the money without so much as a grimace at him. On their way back, she wrapped her scarf around her head properly and washed her face with a water bottle. When she came home, her mother was sitting by the entrance of their tent. Her protecting father was nowhere to be found. She looked at her mother who didn’t look at her directly.

“Here mother, take this,” she said, giving her the money she had gotten.

Her mother took the money and looked at it in disbelief.

“This much money? What did you do?”

Laila turned around and looked at her mother, her stare so cold her mother couldn’t look at her for long,

“I did not beg on the streets for this. I know father doesn’t like us begging,” she said with a newfound bitterness in her voice.

Her mother called after her but she limped away. She had every right to. After all, she had saved Eid this year.

Life in Pakistan has never been easy. The living conditions continue to deteriorate with each passing year. The effects of climate change, coupled with the water crises, are making life harder and harder for people living here. The power outages do not help either. However, this year, the repercussions of climate change and the water crisis are being felt the most, and things are about to get much worse. Today is Eid, which many people in the colonial parts of the city, especially certain gated communities, are enjoying to the fullest. Perhaps because they do not face the same problems as us common people. They happen to be unaware that they are definitively going to be next in line. These participants of Eid festivities portray the same picture as that of cattle about to be sacrificed – munching their last meals, drinking water still available and uttering meaningless but satisfied sounds, without having any idea about their sorry fate. No previous Eid has been as full of anxiety as this one. Sitting at home, bearing the lack of electricity for two hours and water for even more, I am wondering what kind of Eid is this, where slowly the basic necessities of life are being taken away from us. Wherever I look, whoever I ask, I see the same outcry: there is no water and no electricity. If the posh areas of this city are facing this crisis so badly, one can only imagine what it would be like for the citizens of the less privileged areas like Landhi, where people protest regularly in hopes of getting some water. On the one hand, India diverts Pakistan’s water to other sources, effectively depriving us of our river’s water, while on the other, certain gated communities take whatever little water is left from the commoners in Karachi. Gul Hasan Kalamati, a representative of the Karachi Indigenous Rights Alliance (KIRA), addressed this fraud himself. He suggests that people living in the comfort of their gated communities may never experience load shedding (as much) or water shortages, while the rest of Karachi suffers.The situation was never as grave as it is now. The privileged ensure they keep getting water at the expense of the ordinary citizens of Karachi. Meanwhile, the residents of other areas face water shortages or are forced to resort to buying it from the water mafia. The writing is right there on the wall, and a question haunting most citizens of the metropolis is, how we are supposed to “celebrate” Eid with no water and no electricity? There is no point in living in a major city of Pakistan when we have to endure the same conditions as underdeveloped villages. However, this stands to be our reality for the near and distant future, one we must come to terms with. Just imagine, the most basic right being snatched away from our people, literally killing them when we factor in the heat waves, and by the hands of whom? By the very hands of those we have given the power to run the country. Then comes the Indian conspiracy to turn Pakistan into a barren desert by blocking its water, which has been active for quite some time now. As an enemy – one with whom we have fought three wars – this is exactly the kind of behaviour to be expected, but what have we done about it so far? The World Bank has rejected Pakistan’s objections to India’s repeated violations of the Indus Waters Treaty, the most prominent one of whom is the Kishanganga Dam, hereby permitting India to continue building more dams solely for the purpose of stealing Pakistan’s water. Pakistan has thus far been unable to put an end to this naked aggression and therefore, it would suffice to say we have lost the war for water despite being a nuclear power. According to a study, Pakistan may run out of water by 2025, hence, the window for meaningful action in this regard is fast closing. If we start now, it would take at least six years to complete the Kalabagh dam, which is almost the amount of time for which Pakistan’s water supply is slated to remain intact. The effects of the water shortage brought forth by India’s water conspiracy have already started taking their toll on Pakistan’s agriculture, with our mango exports, kharif (monsoon) and rice crops in danger due to irrigation problems. Moreover, without securing our water resources, we cannot ensure an absolute end of power outages. Hence, India achieves two goals by diverting the flow of rivers into Pakistan at the same time. Firstly, the utter chaos and even anarchy in the long-term, when the citizens’ protests for water turn violent. Secondly, the damage to Pakistan’s economy caused by the suffering agriculture as well as the power-hungry industries. Both would play a huge role in destabilising Pakistan to the core – an objective that remains the guiding principle of India’s hateful, war mongering policies towards Pakistan. The future looks dark, with Pakistan about to turn barren, thanks to a vengeful neighbour bent on destroying us. However, our own highly inept governance hasn’t helped either. Corrupt politicians, notably the Pashtunkhwa Milli Awami Party’s (PkMAP) chief Mehmood Khan Achakzai, Asfandyar Wali Khan of the Awami National Party (ANP) and Maulana Fazlur Rehman have been playing dirty politics on the Kalabagh dam issue their entire careers. Having built the premise against dams by citing fabricated facts, they do it for their own petty gains and coerce the state of Pakistan into not building more dams. Playing the Pakhtun card, threatening to split Pakistan, using intimidation and aggressive slogans vowing to annihilate Pakistan if the Kalabagh dam is built, all constitute some of the tactics nefariously used by these “leaders”. All hope is not lost though; we can still save ourselves from doom by demanding more dams be built. We may be spending this Eid in agony, but we can make sure that the many Eids to come aren’t the same as this one. A massive social media campaign is already ongoing in this regard, but perhaps more should be done on a grassroots level. For instance, in the upcoming General Elections, votes should be given only to those representatives who promise to build dams and work towards solving the water issue during their tenure. As a nation, we should safeguard our national interests and preserve the future of our upcoming generations by saying no to those obstructing the building of more dams. We must also stand up against the water mafias and the privileged communities in cities that deprive the common citizens of water. This is the only solution, lest we intend on spending more Eids without water and electricity, while losing loved ones to the heat wave. The time to act is now, or we lose our collective future forever.

Eidul Azha is next week, and with our government recently announcing Eid holidays, citizens of Pakistan are unhappy, to say the least. The four-day break has been cut down to three days, making the Eid break range from Tuesday to Thursday (August 21-23) in its entirety, and the third day of Eid being a working day. Many citizens have voiced their concerns over this rather strange and abrupt holiday announcement, and rightly so. https://twitter.com/shahrookhh/status/1029706942531493888 All across the world when people celebrate major occasions, holidays are given accordingly. The best example is perhaps of Christmas, as the fact that it coincides with the New Year leads to most countries announcing holidays in a manner to facilitate people going on vacation or simply going back home for the break. Despite priding itself on being a Muslim country – the Islamic Republic of Pakistan – our government has not done the same to facilitate its citizens, particularly those who work away from their homes. This is not just about those who want to take a week off to go to Dubai or plan a vacation, or even those of us who would love a week off to eat barbecued meat while binge-watching shows on Netflix. Though it is hard to break out of our bubble of privilege, we have to acknowledge that a significant chunk of Pakistan’s population comes from rural cities and villages, with people moving to bigger, urban cities for work. One must also acknowledge that in many cases, these citizens work in the service industry or are domestic workers, and do not get the same leeway to apply for a leave the way many of us are privileged enough to do. https://twitter.com/shahrookhh/status/1029705868940587009 For such citizens in particular, had the government announced holiday ranged from Tuesday to Friday, or even Wednesday to Friday, it would have given them the perfect opportunity to travel across the country and return to their homes to spend a good amount of time with their families for Eid. Even if the holiday was from Monday to Thursday, that would have given people the occasion to take this weekend to travel back home. Instead, we get an outlandishly offered three-day break where Monday and Friday will be working days. https://twitter.com/fatimashuja/status/1029936169746923521 What do we expect from this three-day break? For people to come to work on Friday – the third day of Eid, mind you – and then have another two days off that could have been spent at home with their families? What about the fact that many people choose to offer their sacrifice on the third day of Eid itself, as is their right prescribed to them by their religion, and yet they will have to bear the inconvenience of offering their sacrifice and then going to work, despite living in a country that frequently likes to throw its Muslim identity around. https://twitter.com/saleemafaq/status/1030351140494434305 None of this is to suggest that the government should announce a week of public holidays or shower vacation days at us (though that would admittedly be nice). Just that this bizarre announcement is yet more proof that Pakistan time and again falls prey to horrible planning. The government did not need to announce more holidays, just better planned holidays in order to facilitate the people it is supposed to serve. Well planned holidays surely would not hurt any of us, but they would greatly facilitate those who are not in a position to easily take days off or do not work in an industry that allows for such breaks to be possible. https://twitter.com/stariq88/status/1029710325808078848 In contrast to Eidul Fitr, Eidul Azha, aka Bari Eid, has many more responsibilities. Not only are there get-togethers where you meet your relatives, you also have the responsibility carry out your sacrifice and then distribute the meat. If the government gives three-day holidays for Eidul Fitr, where the only tiring thing to do is eat as much as you can, why is Eidul Azha not considered as important? It’s not as if Eid stops being relevant by the third day. Moreover, asking for better holidays so that people can be with their families isn’t uncalled for. It’s not like giving a holiday on the third day of Eid will considerably jolt our economy further, especially when we have so many national holidays already. https://twitter.com/iamAzaanAli/status/1030132282277982208 This year’s holidays have already been announced and may be it is too late to change anything. However, as we progress towards narratives of change and hope for progress, perhaps we can also progress towards being a state that thinks about its citizens – all of its citizens – for a change, and actually endeavours to facilitate its people wherever it can, no matter how basic the request may seem.

“Mama! Mujhay subha uthana please aath bajay. Baba kay sath mandi jaunga,” Ali pleaded with his mother. (Mom! Please wake me up at eight in the morning. I have to go with dad to the cattle market)

She nodded as she tucked him in lovingly. Ali had been looking forward to the Bari Eid since Ramazan. He had been extremely disappointed to find out that the Eid after Ramazan will not involve getting a bakra (goat) and bringing it home. He had insisted though.

“Hum le aatay hain na! Hum bakra isi wali Eid pe le aatay!” (We should get it! We should get our goat this Eid)

Smiling, his father explained how both festivals had distinct significance in religion. From that day onwards, Ali started marking days off the calendar for the next three months to come and as soon as the Zilhaj moon was sighted in the country, he had pestered his father to take him to the mandi. His father had hesitated, as they were on the ground floor and the space was quite limited for them to acquire the animal 10 days before the day of sacrifice. Then there were the steeply priced animals; it was quite difficult to get a good bargain this early before Eid. But obviously, Ali thought differently. Why couldn’t his father understand that his son’s reputation as the “trend-setter” in the neighbourhood was at stake due to this dilly-dallying? He was the first one to watch the latest Avengers movie among all his “followers” in the neighbourhood. Yes followers, not friends, as Ali did not believe in friends but only devout followers that would praise his every move just like the ones he had on Instagram and on Twitter. He was the first one to get a smartphone as well. Following his example, his ‘friends’ had bugged their parents to buy them phones too. Little did they know, Ali had sneaked out with his mother’s phone one day to impress them. It had worked on them as Ali was the ‘coolest’ boy on the street. So naturally, they believed him when he said that he would get the biggest animal on Eid this year. Initially, Ali had nagged his parents to get a cow for the sacrifice but upon hearing the finality in his father’s voice when he refused, he had improvised.

“Itni mujhay ye cows stupid lagti hain na! I hate everything fat. Girls bhi jo wide houn ziada, I call them cows so why should we get a cow for qurbani then? Main tou bakra lunga,” he had preached to his loyal band of followers. (I find these cows really stupid. I hate everything fat. I call girls who are wide in their physique cows so why should we get a cow for the sacrifice? I will get a goat.)

Parents of his buddies might have actually thanked him had they known it was his idea that stopped their own children from pestering them about getting cows for the qurbani. So after bringing down the Eidul Azha expenditure of his entire neighbourhood, Ali headed to the mandi with his father. Although there was still a week left before Eid, it was quite evident that most of the finer animals had already been taken.

“Sir wo naya maal bhi ayega lekin ye mandi shayed gorment utha de wesay. Aap behter hay kuch pasand karlo aaj hi. Kal phir wo shehar kay dusre konay pe jana parega!” an animal dealer advised Ali’s father. (Sir, there will be new cattle coming in but the government might close down this market before that. It's better if you pick one today only. Otherwise you might have to go to the other side of the city tomorrow.)

Thus, they kept looking. Just when they were about to leave empty-handed, something tugged at Ali’s shirt. Startled, he looked back to see a boy his own age looking at him expectantly. Wearing a patched black kurta shalwar, a size too big for him, the boy seemed quite troubled.

“Kiya hay? Choro meri shirt!” Ali snubbed him, wrinkling his nose in disgust. (What do you want? Let go of my shirt) “Ali! Badtameezi nahi karo!” his father snapped at him. (Ali, stop misbehaving!)

His father turned towards the boy,

“Kiya baat hay beta? Kuch chahiye apko?” (What is wrong child? Do you want something?)

The boy glanced at Ali, his face listless. Then he turned to Ali’s father and said,

“Aap humara Raju bhi dekh lein. Itna zaada bara nahi hay magar bohat acha hay. Mera abba teen haftay se koshish kar raha lekin log bara bakra maangtay hain. Humne kamre ka kiraya dena hay. Abba bara pareshan hay.” (Please look at our Raju too. He is not that big but he is very nice. My father has been trying for three weeks to sell him but people want bigger goats. We have to pay the rent for our room. My dad is very worried.)

Moved by his words, Ali’s father followed the boy to the back of the mandi. There on the ground sat a rather thin white goat. It was much smaller than most animals in the mandi but it was an incredibly clean animal. As Ali got a closer look, he saw that the goat was not sitting on the ground but on an embroidered sheet of cloth that looked handmade. On its forehead was a faint orange mark. The boy’s father had gotten up quickly to see customers. He tried to get the goat to stand up but it wouldn’t budge. The boy rushed to help but instead of tugging at its rope, he got down on his knees near the goat and whispered something. Patting and stroking his hair, the boy finally got the goat up on its four limbs. Ali was intrigued by the connection the boy seemed to have with the goat. So although it went against his earlier announcement to the neighbourhood boys, Ali decided to get this one. He would also have this weird control over this goat like the shabbily dressed boy had and every onlooker would be impressed. Ali’s father, for entirely different reasons of course, had started the discussion over the price of the animal with the vendor. He thought it was an affordable deal and the boy’s insistence had also convinced him to help the poor family out. A great deal of tugging and pulling followed the purchase as the goat seemed unwilling to leave. The boy who had earlier seemed eager to make the sale now stood alone in the corner. His eyes averted, Munir could not bring himself to watch as they took Raju away. Fifteen minutes passed as he watched the rude boy try in vain to get Raju to move. Finally, as he saw them getting tired, he decided to offer a solution. In a choked voice, Munir offered to accompany them to the house to get Raju inside.

“Isko ander baandh kay main wapis ajaunga Abba. Warna ye jayega nahi.” (I will go and tie him inside and come back, Dad. Otherwise, he will not go.)

Ali did not approve of the situation one bit but there was not much he could do. The stupid goat just wouldn’t budge without that boy. Munir rode with the goat in the pickup. As they pulled into the street, Ali’s peers stood watching.

“Ali ka bakra tou chota sa hay wesay! Baatein tou barri barri kar raha tha!” (Ali’s bakra is so small. It was just big talk)

They sniggered amongst themselves as Munir walked the goat into Ali’s house.

Ignoring them completely, Ali rushed into the house.

“Chalo chalo tum bhago yahan se! Ab ye humara hogaya hay. Paisay le liye tum logoun ne!” he screamed, directing his anger at poor Munir. (Now go away! This goat is now ours. You guys got the money!)

Munir patted Raju one last time and left quietly. Munir had a certain air about him, completely unperturbed by Ali’s high-handedness. He left Ali abashed by his own behaviour. Two whole days had passed since Raju’s arrival at Ali’s residence but he had refused to touch any food. He would sulk in a corner; only sniffing the food he was offered. When Ali tried to pat it, Raju bleated so frighteningly that it scared him out of his wits. His father dismissed all this,

“Bhayeee ghar ka palla hua bakra hay, time lagega usko aadi hone mein. Jaanwar hay, bhook lagegi tou zarur khayega.” (He has been a pet, it will take time for him to get used to a new place. He is an animal, when he gets hungry, he will eat.)

Ali, however, was unconvinced. Looking at Raju closely, it seemed as if the poor animal had lost the very will to live.

“Isko shayed yaad araha hay wo larka. Usko kahan se laun ab? Wo wesay bhi meray saath kyun ayega? Meinay itni burri tarha aat kit hi us se.”

(I think he is missing that boy. Where do I get him from? And why would he even come with me? I was so rude to him.)

Lost in these troubled thoughts, Ali dozed off. He was woken up by Raju’s baaing. He got up to look out his window. A strange sight met his eyes. Raju stood chewing on the fodder from the bucket while a small black figure crouched besides it in the shadows. Scared, Ali slowly opened his window wider to get a better look. As the dark figure shifted from the shadows a little, the faint glimmer from the street light lit up its face. It was Munir! He sat next to Raju stroking its hair lovingly who seemed at ease now as it munched on fodder. Ali quietly came outside and switched the porch light on. Startled, Munir stood up. Attempting to escape, Munir started climbing the wall.

“Ruko, Ruko!” (Wait, wait)

Ali ran after him and grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Dekho main sirf isko khilanay aya tha…please apnay abba ko na batana…mujhay chor samjheingay wo!” (Look I only came here to feed him…please don’t tell your father, he will think I’m a thief)

Munir pleaded with Ali, his face as white as a sheet. Ali stood thinking.

“Chalo meray kamray mein chal kay bethtay hain. Kuch khao gay?” he asked Munir. (Let’s go sit in my room. Do you want to eat something?)

Munir couldn’t believe his ears,

“Aap mujhay pakarwaanay tou nahi le jarahay?” (Are you taking me to be incriminated?)

Smiling, Ali said,

“Nahi pakarwanay nahi le jaraha. Tum Raju ki dosti ki khaatir raat ko yahan tak agaye. Risk le kar. Meiny aisi dosti kabhi nahi dekhi. Meray dost tou aisay nahi hain. Kiya tum meray dost bano gay? Meray pehlay dost?” (No, I’m not taking you to be incriminated. You came all the way here at night just for the sake of your friendship with Raju. You took the risk. I have never seen a friendship like this. My friends are not like this. Will you be my friend? My first friend?)

He extended his hand towards Munir who was still in shock. Looking at Ali, he extended his hand too. As they stood near Raju, shaking hands, a friendship was born. Munir did not lose Raju until of course the day when he was supposed to fulfil its destiny of sacrifice. And Ali, well, he finally made a real friend. More importantly, he finally seemed to have understood the distinction between a real friend and a meaningless band of followers. He learned that friends stick with you even if they have to sacrifice something that is of value to them, while followers abandon you if your claims of pomp and show fall short of their expectations.

Eid shopping is easy these days. Just saunter in any of the malls, check out the popular brands, take your pick and head back home while enjoying any of the easily available branded snacks. For the parents, this is a job well done. For the kids, it’s one of those shopping trips which is topped with a favourite place to eat out, as celebrating Eid for them is just another holiday. However, decades ago, when I was a child, Eid was a different affair. As we prepared for Ramazan, my father would visit his mother – my grandmother – to wish her on the arrival of the blessed month with a dress and her favourite eatables. My grandmother would retire for most of the month, with special prayers going on late in the nights and resuming early in the morning after a small break. The arrival of the holy month meant quieter afternoons, busy evenings and early bedtimes; at least for the kids. And this is back when it was still Ramazan Mubarak, not its Arab version Ramadan Kareem! At that time, there were no hi-teas, no pizza deliveries or frenzied get-togethers at iftar. The iftar itself used to be a simple affair: Rooh Afza was a must and at our household it was a regular tradition to squeeze a bit of lemon to it to add some zesty flavour. Pakoras were an all-time hit with all age groups, with the kids competing to hog up all the aloo (potato) pakoras. A simple chana chaat, fruit chaat or dahi phulki would be the ultimate item, topped with a steaming cup of tea for the adults. Today, if the traditional menu is not accompanied with spring rolls, chicken samosas or drumsticks, it’s outrageous and the kids go on a strike. If Ramazan has modernised with time, it’s only expected that Eid gets a makeover as well. For girls, chaand raat still has its charms, owing to arranging dresses and accessories and applying mehndi on their hands and feet. They still throw a fuss over their attire and compare notes with their friends and cousins. The boys, however, may grudgingly wake up for Eid prayers, if the dads are willing to go. But there is no excitement or special preparations on their part. It’s like a duty to be fulfilled, not an occasion to look forward to. When I was young, boys received Eidi after the special prayers. Today, they get it anyway. In the days that have gone, each household had mostly the same platter but it was still appetising to all. Be it sheer khurma, doodh sawaiyan or sawaiyon ka zarda, the crispy fried vermicelli was the key ingredient of every Eid menu. The sawaiyan are still there, but only for those who still crave the Eid of their childhood. Today’s generation tends to respond with ‘No, thanks’ – they are happier with pastries, cakes and pies. Eid afternoons these days are anxiously looked forward to for a distinct reason: taking a nap. The immediate household will pay their dues to each other early morning after Eid prayers or simply first thing in the morning. The enthusiastic ones move on to visit friends or distant relatives. Those who are less eager sneak back to their bedrooms once the morning shift of guests have retired, and succumb to a peaceful rest. The kids are allowed ‘freedom’ on Eid to glue their eyes on their television screens or those of various gadgets, as long as they do not disturb the leisure of their parents. They are promised a generous dose of Eidi in return. The Eidi still has its charms; after all, money never goes out of fashion or demand. Collecting small and big notes of currency and counting incessantly to keep tabs is a favourite past time of kids even today. Only the standards have gone higher, and the generation of today is smart enough to assess the value of money: the bigger the note, the more likeable the uncle or the aunt. Smaller note bearers are simply to be respected. From the first of Ramazan to chaand raat to Eid day, it is a journey of learning. As children, we learnt the values of fasting, as well as the significance Eid brings in the lives of those who fast and those who prepare for the meals. I try hard to revive the Eid spirit in my younger ones, for the spirit, once alive all around us, now beckons to be witnessed. Each year, as I enter the kitchen on chaand raat to prepare kheer or sheer khurma after a mental debate to decide the sweet dish, I try to relive the eve before Eid as it was in my mother’s kitchen. My sons peek in and pass by, a little disappointed at the array of nuts and the aroma of boiling milk. In my heart, I console myself that they may not look forward to my menu, but at least in their memories they would retain what a traditional Eid platter looks like. Today, they may rub their eyes when having to dress up early in the morning to accompany their father for prayers, but tomorrow, they may have a tale or two to tell their young ones. For who knows how Eid may look like in the days to come. Eid Mubarak!

Eidul Azha, in my mind, has always been a ‘lesser’ Eid. It has always existed under the shadow of Eidul Fitr. As a kid, it seemed ill-fitting to call Eidul Fitr a choti Eid because it held greater significance in my mind. It might be bari Eid for a warm-blooded carnivore like my father but not me. However, this year, I find myself clinging on to this religious event with the ferocity of a drowning man. With each passing year, Eid seems like a distant dream that we are all stumbling to push into reality. The real spirit that animated it and brought life to this religious event has vanished. Eidul Azha, in my recollections, used to be three days of endless feasting. And feasting cannot be done alone; it is a communal activity that sparks a special kind of hunger. Even if you aren’t hungry, you still eat the delicious meat; sitting amongst your friends and family, you are obligated to. Moreover, feasting cannot happen without you looking your best! I remember sitting in my crisp new clothes with over-sized bangles clinking down my wrists as I reached for a niwala (bite) from a plate of korma that my mom hurriedly cooked after getting the meat from the butcher. In Islamic canon, this day is celebrated to honour Hazrat Ibrahim’s (AS) willingness to sacrifice his only son after being commanded to do so by Allah (SWT). It is also a day to mark the divine miracle that replaced Hazrat Ibrahim’s (AS) son with a lamb at the time of the sacrifice. To celebrate this heroic tale every year was fascinating to me. It meant celebrating obedience, unwavering belief, and a timely intervention by eating and sharing food with your loved ones and people in need. This one sacrifice led to so many hungry mouths being fed, so many loving memories being made and so many meat dishes being invented, experimented and perfected. My grandmother’s house was an anchor that collected all my family members on this day to commence the celebrations. As years passed by, without realising, that anchor detached so many ships. In the winter of 2010, my grandmother sent her goodbyes and prayers from Quetta as my family moved to Karachi. My family tried to recreate that anchor at our house with a few of our relatives who had also moved to Karachi in search of a better lifestyle. After a few rocky starts, we managed to build it. We delved in the trend of barbecue that Karachi was so fond of, and in one brief moment, we had captured the spirit of Eid. However, that moment was fleeting and we had to let go of so many people. My grandmother passed away, my cousins grew up and I moved to Lahore for my studies. I reiterate that this holiday, much like other holidays, is a communal one. It is not meant to be celebrated alone. And so, the food no longer tastes good, the clothes do not make me feel pretty and the stench of blood and entrails grows stronger each Eid. It is not just me who feels this way; it is a loss felt by my friends and my family too. Blaming capitalism, westernisation, hedonism or other 'evil' external forces that are out to harm Islam and its practices is not my intention. I am simply observing life pass by and change things. This slump may be indicative of me growing up and not wanting to face adulthood but I think it is much more than that. It is indicative of an evisceration of a tradition and, inevitably, an evisceration of the self. In college, I read a story about the American bison. In Native American culture, buffaloes played a huge role as several tribes hunted them for food and clothing, but honoured and respected them as their major source of sustenance. Their lives were oriented around the thunderous arrival of the herd of buffaloes every year. However, the US government, in an effort to defeat the Native American tribes, wiped out more than half of their population and brought them close to extinction. In the famous tribal chief Plenty Coups’ heartbreaking words,

"After this, nothing happened."

Nothing happened. Their worlds ceased to exist. Time, and everything that came along with it, stopped. Since then, their communities have thinned and pushed to the fringes of society. To say that I share a cultural devastation similar to that of the Native Americans would obviously be wrong and disrespectful to the insurmountable grief that they suffered and continue to do so. But this can allow one to imagine the potentiality of the erasure of our culture. This can rekindle special love and attention towards our cultural practices. And it can encourage us to respect other cultural and religious events that people choose to orient themselves around and are intrinsically tied to. Take another example to portray this. The Niha people living in Nisa, an island located in the far west of Indonesia, lived for feasting. Their feasts involved inexhaustible quantities of food and guests, and were a major opportunity for gift exchange to sustain their economy. However, environmental devastation led to the death of those 'feasting cycles'. The people there explained that their feelings were that of a “painful heart”; a heart that is seething with pain, anger and envy. We do not exist in a vacuum. We are vulnerable to our own creations. We stand under the comforting shadow of these practices that make our lives meaningful. This Eid, it becomes my personal goal to not let this special day pass by without gratitude and celebration. And to honour all that is tied with it. Eid Mubarak!

For much of the 2018-19 season, Real Madrid’s campaign has been driven by pessimism and trepidation. From mediocre performances on the field to a lack of purpose off it, the Los Blancos found themselves entrenched in a diatribe with a swathe of negative opinions from fans and critics alike. But the return of the clubs’s favourite son Zinedine Zidane after his dignified exit nine months ago has cut through all the noise, at least for the time being. Zizou’s work is cut out for him as the rebuilding job at a club like Real Madrid, with extremely high expectations, won’t be an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. https://twitter.com/kevinchimuka/status/1113392173150502914 However, unlike towards the end of his last tenure, Zidane will have financial backing from the club. A report from The Independent claimed “Real Madrid president Florentino Perez has promised Zidane an expensive overhaul,” immediately after the Frenchman’s arrival. A few days later L’Equipe’s front page (titled Casino Royal) stated that: “Perez is ready to show faith in Zidane to turn the ship around by giving him a €500 million summer budget.” If Madrid are keen on spending heavily in the upcoming summer transfer window, they will have to do it wisely, bearing in mind their current expectations and without compromising future ambitions. Defence Real Madrid’s defence is, arguably, the least concerning aspect of their squad. Sergio Ramos and Raphael Varane might not have had the best of seasons, but they still form a formidable pairing in the centre of defence. But with Ramos aging and especially if Varane decides to leave, Madrid would need adequate replacements in order to beef up their backline options. Looking at the options, three names stand out in particular. These include Napoli’s Kalidou Koulibaly (27), Inter Milan’s Milan Skriniar (24) and Ajax’s Matthijs de Ligt (19). [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Kalidou Koulibaly during the Serie A match between US Sassuolo and SSC Napoli at Mapei Stadium - Citta' del Tricolore on March 10, 2019 in Reggio nell'Emilia, Italy. Photo: Getty[/caption] All three have no obvious weaknesses and possess the ideal skill set expected from a defender (strength, positioning and ball playing skills), supplemented by the fact that they are young enough to be part of the club for a very long time. While Madrid would be happy to bring in any one of these players, Skriniar would be cheaper as compared to the other two, considering the absence of a release clause in his contract with Inter. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Milan Skriniar of FC Internazionale competes for the ball with Danny da Costa of Eintracht Frankfurt during the UEFA Europa League Round of 16 Second Leg match between FC Internazionale and Eintracht Frankfurt at San Siro on March 14, 2019 in Milan, Italy. Photo: Getty[/caption] The 24-year-old also offers an added dimension of having played as a defensive midfielder with the Slovakian national side, and consequently can provide cover on two positions while also aiding in-game tactical switch. Midfielders Real Madrid have a substantial amount of talent in the centre of the park, with an impressive blend of young (Marcos Llorente, Fede Valverde and Dani Ceballos) and experienced players (Luka Modric, Toni Kroos and Casemiro). In order to cater to an aging Modric and take off pressure from Kroos, Madrid need a couple of additions to their midfield. However, they don’t need to spend heavily in this regard as the players they have loaned out – James Rodriguez to Bayern Munich and Mateo Kovacic to Chelsea – will be ideal suitors. Rodriguez’s incisiveness in the final third, both in open play and dead ball situations, will add creativity in central positions. This is of particular importance because a majority of Madrid’s attacks are wing-based, which is why the Colombian’s presence will stretch opposing defences and bring more unpredictability going forward. Also, through his quotes in the press, the midfielder has also indicated that there is no love lost between him and the Spanish giants, despite being left frustrated for playing time under Zidane previously. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] James Rodriguez of FC Bayern Muenchen controls the ball during the Bundesliga match between FC Bayern Muenchen and 1. FSV Mainz 05 at Allianz Arena on March 17, 2019 in Munich, Germany. Photo: Getty[/caption] Kovacic might not have had the best of seasons at Chelsea, but he can still play a vital role in The Whites midfield with his ability to play line-breaking passes; a trait which is of pivotal importance, especially against many La Liga sides who like to sit deep and defend. Also, the Croatian’s best time in Madrid colours came while playing under Zizou, which makes a strong case of having him back in the Spanish capital. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Mateo Kovacic of Chelsea in action during the FA Cup Fifth Round match between Chelsea and Manchester United at Stamford Bridge on February 18, 2019 in London, United Kingdom. Photo: Getty[/caption] Forwards Ever since the departure of club legend Cristiano Ronaldo, the talk surrounding Real Madrid’s attacking pedigree has shown no signs of subsiding. Since the departure of the Portuguese, the goals have significantly dried up for the Los Blancos and hence the need for some clinical finishers in front of the goal is, probably, more than ever. Talking about forwards, one player that has constantly been linked with Real Madrid is Chelsea’s Eden Hazard. Although there is no doubt about the Belgium international’s footballing prowess and he will also be a seamless fit at Real, signing him now, at the age of 28, would mean the club shelling a lot of money in return for only two to three peak years. While it would be unfair to totally rule out a move, the club should only consider Hazard as a fall-back option. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] 31st March 2019, Cardiff City Stadium, Cardiff, Wales; EPL Premier League football, Cardiff City versus Chelsea; Eden Hazard of Chelsea looks back at a missed chance. Photo: Getty[/caption] Moving on, Paris Saint-Germain’s (PSG) Kylian Mbappe, despite being an ideal solution to Real Madrid’s goal scoring troubles, is a long shot considering his massive price tag. Although there are plenty of rumours in the transfer market regarding his move to Spain, the French club will go all out to keep the 20-year-old star at the club, keeping in mind the fact that he is at the core of their European ambitions. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Kylian Mbappe of PSG celebrates a goal during the Ligue 1 match between Paris Saint Germain and Guingamp at Parc des Princes on January 19, 2019 in Paris, France. Photo: Getty[/caption] Taking into account all the factors and realistic options available on the market, Real Madrid will be better off if they work on the lines of signing Liverpool’s Sadio Mane and Inter Milan’s Mauro Icardi. Mane’s pace and technical ability has been part and parcel of Liverpool’s success in the past couple of seasons, and he will add a lot of potency to Real Madrid’s attack. Although he has played mostly as a winger for The Reds, if need be, he can play in a more central role as a striker as well. In Mane, Madrid will find a willing worker, who can track back and help out with defence and also link up well with Marcelo Vieira on the left wing. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Sadio Mane of Liverpool FC runs with the ball during the Premier League match between Liverpool FC and Tottenham Hotspur at Anfield on March 31, 2019 in Liverpool, United Kingdom. Photo: Getty[/caption] On the other hand, Icardi has stacked up some great numbers for his Italian club with his lethal finishing. He may not participate much in build-up play but his positioning and movement in front of the goal is particularly impressive. Real Madrid have been guilty of creating lots of chances but not converting them during the ongoing season, but Icardi’s signing should go a long way in changing that. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Mauro Icardi of FC Internazionale scores the second goal during the Serie A match betweenGenoa CFC and FC Internazionale at Stadio Luigi Ferraris on April 3, 2019 in Genoa, Italy. Photo: Getty[/caption] To Madrid and Zidane’s advantage, being knocked out of the title race on all fronts is somewhat a blessing in disguise, as it gives them additional time to plan for the future. But the 13-time European Champions will have to be clever with the way they go about their business in the transfer market, before it builds up more scar tissue against their name as a formidable force in the world of football.

The United States has introduced a United Nations Security Council (UNSC) resolution to blacklist Masood Azhar as an international terrorist. Azhar is the leader of Jaish-e-Mohammed (banned in Pakistan since 2002) and has been blamed by India for masterminding February’s Pulwama incident, even though no evidence has been produced which links Azhar to the incident. China has refused to list Azhar as an international terrorist after careful consideration of the definition of international terrorism according to international law. China has made this position absolutely clear and as such, it would appear that the US is looking to transform the UNSC into a place of high stakes geopolitical theatre, because China’s veto of the US resolution is inevitable. The US therefore is using the internationally immaterial issue of Azhar in order to provoke tensions between China and India at a time when the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) is already invoking blood-curdling Sinophobia in further attempts to rally the jingoist Hindutva vote. But this is not all that the US is doing. Washington is also provoking and in fact insulting Pakistan by suggesting that a local matter is worthy of wasting the UN’s time, even after one of the permanent members of the Security Council has made its position unambiguous. As if on cue, India’s jingoistic media kicked into high gear suggesting war against China. Meanwhile, members of the BJP and the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) continue to call for a boycotting of Chinese goods. When it comes to Pakistan however, America’s willingness to inflate the international importance of Azhar makes it clear that the US is willing to risk productive relations with Pakistan in order to both placate India and to goad India into an even more extreme position vis-a-vis China (not that the BJP needs much help in this respect). Although the US has admitted that Pakistan’s role in the Afghan peace process is crucial, beyond this, the US has clearly made its decision in terms of a long term strategy in South Asia. While some US diplomats will feign attempts at a balanced South Asia policy, the reality is that India is now a key US strategic partner. US diplomats at the UN will happily do India’s bidding, even over a matter as absurd as trying to convince the world that Azhar is an international terrorist when legal precedent says otherwise. Pakistan must adjust its own expectations accordingly. While it would be imprudent for Pakistan to provoke any superpower, the message that Washington is not so subtly sending is that when it comes to a superpower partner, China is the singular key to Pakistan’s prosperous future, while the US is becoming little more than a puppet master helping direct flagrant Indian aggression against China. This is all the more reason for Pakistan to take a more assertive role in the Afghan peace process. As the country most directly affected by Afghanistan’s prolonged status as a failed state, Pakistan has no excuse not to emerge as an international leader in driving forward an all-parties peace process. Any idea that Pakistan should merely shadow the US in respect of the peace process should now be put to rest, as it is clear that the US has India’s strategic desires at heart and that, by comparison, Pakistan’s security needs come a very distant second or even third. The reality Pakistan must now face is that whilst America’s priorities in the South Asia during the 80’s related to containing Afghanistan to the West and the Soviet Union to the North, today the US is squarely focused on provoking China and for this, India will remain a key ally of Washington. All that Pakistan must now do is acclimate itself to a new reality where China’s all-weather friendship will grow in stature and material importance while the US will be willing to insult, debase and ignore Pakistan as though the events of the 80’s never occurred. This post was originally published here.

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