Eid Prayers at the Haram, Courtesy: Pluralism.org (2017)

Another Eid. An amazing day. Family. Friends. Laughter. Lots of food. Seeing each other again after an entire year. House hopping. Just the right combination of people to remind you to loosen up and stop taking life so seriously.

Eid for me is a time of celebration, that which follows after refrain, refrain from myself, my desires, refrain from this world. It’s a celebration of my devotion and submission to the Lord of the Worlds. And a remembrance of the spiritual motivation behind one of the major acts of worship and obedience to the Eternal Lord, Ramadhan. And my ultimate desire therein – taubah from The Responding One.

Eid for me is reciting takbeer out loud, putting on the Makkah Channel from the sunset of Eid, listening to the imams of the Haram magnifying Allah. It’s one of the few times I attend salah in congregation, the few times I love being around hoards of people. The thought that we are all there for one thing, to knock on that gate of repentance, beseeching The One to accept our fasts, to forgive us and admit us to the gardens of delight without account, is entrancing beyond belief. Praise. Joy. Relief. Hope. Happiness. This!

But I must admit that it all sounds hollow sometimes – when I remember my dearest, alone in a box beneath this world, alone but for Allah, I shudder. How could I ever forget Eid with my sire. His voice, his adhan at dawn to wake us up, his conversation. His recitation. I’d be lying if I said things have ever been the same since he left. Eid at home was all about my beloved father. His reminders to hurry up so we wouldn’t be late for salah. His conversations with wayya, hilarious. The ribbing, the critique, the wonder, the comfort. Al Jazeera always on. Ithijaahil Maaqis with Faisal Al-Qassim. It would almost always lead to one guest leaving with insults, or violence, throwing water bottles at each other. He would be transfixed, and in raptures at it all. And it would end with a call to wayya, to further analyse this analysis of the opposing viewpoints. Reading him his Friday bulletin. Correcting his grammar homework. Cutting his toe nails. Getting him warm water for wudhu. Standing behind him as he recited his favourite ayah, salah after salah :

“Establish prayer at the decline of the sun [from its meridian] until the darkness of the night and [also] the Qur’an of dawn. Indeed, the recitation of dawn is ever witnessed. And from [part of] the night, pray with it as additional [worship] for you; it is expected that your Lord will resurrect you to a praised station. And say, ‘My Lord, cause me to enter a sound entrance and to exit a sound exit and grant me from Yourself a supporting authority.’ And say, ‘Truth has come, and falsehood has departed. Indeed is falsehood, [by nature], ever bound to depart.’ And We send down of the Qur’an that which is healing and mercy for the believers, but it does not increase the wrongdoers except in loss. And when We bestow favor upon the disbeliever, he turns away and distances himself; and when evil touches him, he is ever despairing. Say, ‘Each works according to his manner, but your Lord is most knowing of who is best guided in way.’And they ask you, [O Muhammad], about the soul. Say, ‘The soul is of the affair of my Lord. And mankind have not been given of knowledge except a little.’ (Quran 17:78-85)

I would never get tired of hearing it. And it will never be the same, no matter whose beautiful voice – no one would ever do it like him. So Eid is bittersweet for me now. It’s to rejoice at the honour of having lived through this most blessed month, and to be sad at its departure. To delight at this congregation of goodness, and a reunion of our loved ones, and to despair at the departed amongst our ranks. But to hope, to anticipate and take comfort in the transience of this separation. Soon enough, my dearest, soon enough we’ll join you. In bliss, my Lord, in bliss inshaallah.