Puranay Rastay ✓

chapter ‣ 23

Being a married man was expensive, because as soon as Eid came around, you were suddenly expected to become an adult and start offering eidi to the children of the community.

"Kallu bhai, me too!" Five year old Danish called out, jumping up and down.

"Hey! Call him Khaled bhai," Rida corrected, standing next to me in her yellow shalwar kameez.

She held a few white envelopes in her hand, offering them to the children who now crowded in our hallway, demanding eidi.

"What will you buy with yours?" She inquired from three year old Junaid, who was accompanied by his nine year old sister, Zoya.

He said something indispensable, leaning deeper into his sister's legs to hide.

"What?" Rida asked, bending down to hear him better. Her long braid peaked from under the thin dupatta, styled in an elaborate fashion. She had gone all out in ensuring that she looked like a newly wedded bride.

"He's saying he will buy a motorcycle and ride it with our khala," Zoya explained, giggling.

"With twenty rupees? What a smart investment!" Rida stood up and exchanged glances with me. "Khaled, you need to give Junaid and his khala riding lessons on your bike."

I laughed at how seriously she was taking the conversation.

"Sounds like a plan!" I humored her.

So far the day had been going quite well. For a change the early morning humidity had decided to give us a break, which made performing the Eid prayer much easier. Mamoo and I returned to our respective homes without sweat lining our bodies with the simple performance of two rakahs. The A/C inside the flat had helped even more, because now I didn't feel the need to change into fresh clothes before going over to Mamoo's for breakfast.

"See off the kids while I go change," Rida instructed, giving me the last of the Eidi envelopes we had haphazardly stuffed last night.

When I had come back from the masjid, I found her all dolled up, looking like a vision.

"This is for you," she said, giving a twirl before rolling her eyes. Mama lingered in the distance, enjoying Rida's usual habit of downplaying her own efforts.

She was going to don a beige abaya for the rest of the day at Mamoo's flat, where close and extended family were staying for the Walima. Her dressing in flashy clothes with an elaborate hairdo and matching bangles, only for a little while, attested to the fact that she had dressed up for me.

"You look like poetry," I told her, not knowing how else to articulate my feelings. "And the sky, and the oceans."

So many colors, so many faces, yet all equally, if not more, bewitching than the last. Each having the potential to drive me insane with how ill prepared I was to take it all in.

I had known her my entire life, and still I felt an amateur when it came to loving her. Everyday was like falling in love with her all over again.

You lit a flame to my dry wood heart

in a matter of minutes it spread further and far

now I am consumed with a fire you set, all yours, today and whatever comes next

"Only you could say that," she laughed, her grin reaching all the way to her ears.

Eid-ul-Fitr was her favorite event of the lunar year, and like a special circumstance, the barakah of Eid made the grief that had been weighing her down for weeks, easier to carry today.