Eid is being celebrated in this country on two different days. Muslims in the US have been compelled to celebrate modestly because the day coincides with the ninth anniversary of 9/11 and we also have a pastor in the US state of Florida trying to do something as condemnable as burn copies of the Holy Quran. To say that Ramazan this year has been depressing and heart-breaking would be an understatement. With a plane crash, floods, targeted killings, public lynching, cricket scandal and suicide bombers haunting the country by turns, Ramazan this year has been somber and painful. There were fewer invitations to iftar get-togethers and even fewer among us who found reasons to celebrate all things Ramazan or otherwise.
And yet, as the days leading up to Eid drew closer, frenetic shoppers were found searching for the right shoes, bangles and every accessory under the sun to complement their Eid joras. Supermarkets saw crazed housewives stocking up on sugar and milk (for the bucketfuls of sheer khorma they were probably going to make), chips, soda and the ilk in anticipation of the long, busy weekend. Predictably, critics frowned upon the relentless need to buy despite the sadness that engulfs the country at this point in time. There should be no celebration to begin with, they contend.
In this context, my question ‘Should we buy new clothes for Eid this year?
Pakistan is going through one of its biggest challenges with floods, cricket and inflation coupled with the comeback of a pre-Ramazan house guest: loadshedding. Walking through some of the posh areas of Lahore it does not seem like 20 million people of the same country became homeless less than a month ago. But should it?
We condone the government’s austerity drive but are reluctant to look into our own backyards. If we expect leaders to spend modestly, the elite must spend modestly too. Those who are disconnected with the common man will find it hard to empathise with the old couple who lost their entire world within hours or the mother who lost her three children right before her eyes, swept away into the abysmal death waters.
And they will continue to spend, much to the relief of small businesses which thrive only twice a year before Eid days. And these businesses need to thrive. It’s a tough balance to strike this year between promoting trade and promoting sensitivities.
I agree. Respect must be shown. It seems a tad distasteful be extravagant right now when there are so many who will go without food and water, let alone new clothes, on Eid this year. It’s also most unfortunate if you don’t realise that you are being insensitive to the misery. Having said that, however, I still think Eid calls for celebration. Maybe we shouldn’t indulge as much as we do every year but we should still celebrate. The reason is quite simple, really. As a nation, most of us, if not all, have shown remarkable sensitivity for the last six weeks. We’ve made donations, volunteered at relief camps and visited the flood affected areas to ensure that the people who deserve help right now are actually getting it. We didn’t look the other way – something that we’ve learnt to do over the years given the never-ending cycle of violence and tragedy – and we made a conscious effort to be consistent. Isn’t it enough of a reason to celebrate when a nation that has been desensitized and a society that has degenerated, manages to pull itself out of that rut and take action for once? In a place where the contrasts are so stark and the polarities so extreme that you are inevitably left disenchanted, a collective relief effort for those who’ve survived more than what they could bear; that transcends the ethno-political divides that we have so meticulously carved out for ourselves, is reason enough to celebrate.
So let’s not buy Eid gifts for one another this year; let’s not wear new clothes and go to lavish dinner parties if you can’t handle the guilt. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. Six weeks of crises (with more expected in the coming days) can take the life out of you. But we can still reconnect with the people who matter – the people who we never seem to have time for — and we can still wear our hair down and paint our toenails. Why? Because everyone needs a time-out. And Eid is as good a time as ever to take that break – especially since the road ahead is long and challenging.
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