A bittersweet meethi Eid

This may be our last Eid in our own home in Karachi for a long time. I don't quite know how I feel about it. I don't do Ramzan (abstinence not being my thing), but I can't seem to ignore its existence completely try as I may, so Eid always comes as a relief. I loved Eid as a child, especially the ones in Pakistan. I love all the rituals of Eid- the planning of the joras, chaand raat, the preparation of holiday treats, eidi envelopes, even the nonsensical and chaotic shenanigans of the Ruet-e-Hilal committee...


Over the years R and I have made our own Eid rituals. Occasionally we have a chaand raat party for our friends and kids' friends- mehndi, chooris, phuljharis, and good old Hanif Rajput catering- a couple of nights before Eid. The actual eve of Eid is far too busy, Eid being one of the few times in the year when all our help is off. As soon as the gunfire erupts (I haven't ever understood our desi penchant for celebratory violence) we know tomorrow will be Eid and it is time to get the haleem pot out. I don't know if haleem is traditionally an Eid dish, but we've always made it because it's something we love and don't usually get around to making and because it's convenient to have lying around over Eid. I love my haleem pot- it is positively gargantuan, reminiscent of the magic porridge pot of fairy tale, it is earthenware and it is blue <3.

Haleem pot

The lavazmaat

Ready to eat :)

I love cooking haleem; the six hours or so that it slowly simmers helps while away the last roza and I love the gentle work of slicing onions, coriander, chillies, and lemons. This year R and I are off to Turkey the day after Eid, so figure we may as well open the last roza with haleem. This year is different in a couple of other respects too- first the gunfire actually hits our cable connection, so there goes the TV and internet, and then Rahman Malik, in his infinite wisdom decides that shutting off mobile phone connections may be a good way to prevent terrorist attacks. The result is chaos as no one knows the timings for eid prayers, and there is a scramble for long-lost phone books while we track down people's landline numbers to coordinate.

Not everyone is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 7:00 am

The ingredients

Eid morning is a rush getting the boys up and into their white shalwar kurtas in time for the 7:30 am Eid namaz. While the boys are gone, I get to work on the sevaiyan. I love the smell of sevaiyan cooking on eid morning-  the sweet cardamom-infused milk, the silky strands of vermicelli, the freshly toasted almonds and pistachios...

Eid breakfast

Once the sevaiyan are ready, I start on the chicken liver- again not traditionally an Eid thing, but one of our rituals. Normally during the year R and I have breakfast together after the school run and before he goes off to work- during Ramzan I miss our breakfasts and therefore the first breakfast after Ramzan needs to be a bit of a production. We only ever have this breakfast once a year- chicken livers marinated in garlic, methi, ajwain, crushed red chillies, coriander seeds, salt and pepper and then lightly sauteed and served with fresh coriander and lime on wholegrain toast, washed down with freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and super strong black coffee.


I've barely finished putting everything out on the breakfast table when the boys are back from the masjid with their giant balloons- apparently there is a balloon-wallah outside the mosque every Eid (a good incentive for the boys to get to namaz). Soon we'll dress to go to Nani's for Eid lunch, but while I drink my coffee I wonder what our next eid- or Seker Bayram- will be like. What rituals will we keep and which new ones will we acquire?

The boy with the blue balloon

I know I will take my haleem pot with me, but there are some things I'm happy to leave behind. The last few days of Ramzan have been marred by the killings of Shias in the north of the country and even in Karachi. The incident in the north is particularly chilling- when the passengers in the bus refused to identify which of their fellow travelers were Shia the attackers demanded people's ID cards and shot those whose names appeared to be Shia. In the past R has often taken the children to the local Imambargah for Eid namaz, where even Iman is welcomed, unlike at our local mosque, but now he doesn't, aware of my unspoken fears.

My friend Romina writes this greeting on her Facebook page


"Eid Mubarik to all
May this be peaceful,
May us as a nation be forgiven for the excesses we have apathetically allowed and let tolerance and reason reign"

And it is true. We have stood by and done nothing when Pakistani Christians have been persecuted under the blasphemy laws, we have allowed Pakistani Ahmedis to be branded non-Muslims and murdered in their places of worship, we have watched Pakistani Hindus slowly crossing the border to avoid forced conversions, and now we silently allow the brutal murder of Pakistani Shias. I hope it isn't too late for us for tolerance and reason, but I suspect a day may come when my husband and children are no longer welcome or safe in my country. One of my grandfathers spoke at the Lahore Resolution and fought with the Quaid for the creation of Pakistan, my other grandfather served to protect this country's borders; my father has spent over forty years serving Pakistan at home and abroad- but the Pakistan they stood for is fast becoming a chimera.