Comming Home...
Once in a New Moon...
FUNNY, but some people take things far too seriously. Like this North American friend of mine. He needs to lighten up a little.
You do what the evening before Eid? You sight the new moon? he asks with some surprise. We are waiting for word from the Scarborough Islamic Centre, in Toronto, about whether it is going to be Eid-ul-Fitr the next day or not, and I am trying to explain what it is like back home in Bangladesh.
I ought to explain that Daniel (not his real name) is one of my more enlightened friends in Canada. But even he has difficulty appreciating the concept.
Okay, look at it this way, I say to him. From your point of view, yes, this may be a terribly inefficient way to plan a national holiday, but it works because everyone knows it is going to work in that particular way. We all know we're not going to know until the last minute. That is why we spend the first part of the evening watching the sky. Everyone does this. (Or used to, when I left Dhaka some 25 years ago).
'You mean, you can't celebrate the festival until the moon has been seen, physicall-y? Everyone waits until that happ-ens, patiently?' Daniel asks, incredulously.
Well, if you must know, some people are not so patient.
Mother, for instance, is always tense as the fast on the 29th day of Ramadan ends and the kitchen gets crowded with all kinds of speciality foods for Eid lunch - a huge family affair - the next day. She doesn't say anything out loud, but you can hear her muttering about people who can't make up their minds on time. She's cross with the powers that be (and knowing Mother, she doesn't care who they are) as she waits for the sound of the siren.
'The siren?' Daniel has difficulty getting the words out. I can see he's considerably taken aback.
Consequently, I have to start with first principles. Explain the Muslim adhan, or call to prayer, add to it details about the five daily prayers, especially the evening or maghrib prayer, and the evening siren which goes off in order to let a wider audience know that it is now time to break the daily fast and say your maghrib prayer. The siren also sounds when the New Moon has been 'sighted'.
'If they don't decide in the next half hour, I'm never going to have everything ready by tomorrow!' Mother says to no one in particular. That's because there is no one around in the dining room or in our kitchen.
Seconds after the fast ends, we all head upstairs to the roof of our house. I race my older sister, who wins. A bua carries my little brother up. Father stands by himself, to one side. My bua holds me, afraid that I may trip and fall off the edge. We all strain our necks, and eyes.
'Seen it!' my sister shrieks and everyone on the rooftop swings sharply towards her, then towards the sky, to the spot towards which she points. Silence. Then my old bua sniffs. She is as old as the hills, but her eyes are razor sharp. 'Nothing, there,' she says, flatly. False alarm. I smile smugly at my sister.
I'm getting restless now, jumping up and down, tapping my feet and annoying my sister who complains to Father that I am disturbing her. My bua tries to hold me still but I wriggle free and do a little dance in front of my sister, just to bother her some more.
Father bends down and tells me, slowly and patiently, to try and search for a thin sliver of silver, like a magical thread of hair, which is what the New Moon looks like when you see it for the first time. He picks me up and holds me in his arms. I am still.
'Gee. The moon must be a pretty big icon in your culture,' Daniel says, scratching his receding hairline contemplatively.
Well, I don't know about icons. I know the New Moon means a lot to us.
Mother, for instance, is anxious and cross. But that's because she feels that the men who are on our Moon Sighting Committee (which decides if the moon has been sighted) have no idea what she has to accomplish before lunch tomorrow. If they did, they would get a move on.
But having said that, I must emphasise that Mother - and most people of her generation - believe that it is absolutely essential for the New Moon to be 'sighted'. This means that it must be seen by a reliable (Muslim) witness. It's no use telling Mother that the New Moon has risen unless you also tell her that it has been sighted. Scientific tracking won't do for her.
'Even if you give her proof...? Cold, hard scientific proof?' Daniel asks, softly.
Let me put it this way, Daniel. You could book my mother on a flight to the moon, she wouldn't bat an eyelid. Science is all right when it comes to achieving impossible things, like a flight to the moon, she would say. But ask her to celebrate Eid because Science says the New Moon has risen and boy oh boy. You'd get The Look. A stare which implies have you totally lost your head, or what. No sir, Daniel. If I were you, I would not try to convince her. As far as Mother is concerned, either she has to see it with her own eyes, or the siren has to go off, or the Moon Sighting Committee has to announce they have 'sighted' the moon. Then and only then will my mother accept that it is truly Eid.
'It is Eid, it is Eid, it is Eid!' shrieks my sister.
I am devastated. My sister has heard it first. She's jumping up and down, tugging at my father's shirt, laughing. We all stand very still for a split second. The siren has begun to wail. Then, the small explosions begin.
'Explosions?' Daniel is startled. I tell him relax, these are small home-made firecrackers which we set off at all our celebrations. They are signs of joy. The explosions continue, as does the siren for several minutes. My father and my mother stare at the sky and yes, suddenly, they smile. They have seen it, too.
I am hoisted into Father's arms. My sister is too big to be carried and can't see things as clearly as I can. Lucky me, I taunt her. My parents don't talk. They look at the thin sliver of silver in the sky, the New Moon. Their hands go up, in prayer. I don't know what they are saying.
'What are you saying', I ask plaintively.
'Be quiet!' chides my sister.
'We're praying to Allah that we may all be together, again, when the New Moon of Shawal appears before us next year,' Mother says to my sister and I.
'Ameen,' says Father.
'That's a pretty moving story,' says my friend Daniel.
The phone rings. It's my cousin from Scarborough. He has news from the Islamic Centre.
'Eid Mubarak,' says my cousin.
'Oh. It's been sighted then. You're sure?' I ask. My cousin says yes. It is Eid.
'Eid Mubarak,' I say to my cousin.
Daniel stares at my face. 'Eid Mubarak..?' he asks, intensely. 'Which means...?'I groan a little. Let's continue our chat later, I suggest to him. As I said before, my enlightened North American friend needs to lighten up a little. Perhaps so do we all. In our different ways.
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