Married at a young age, I have actually learned basic cooking from my Grandma-in-law. I have seen my mami shashuris, who have a great skill of cooking and presenting food in luscious way. Still very lucky to have my mom beside me who taught me cooking at my little kitchen I own now. However, whether I could cook or not, my husband and I have always hosted Eid dinners for our very loving family. We grew up, started inviting more people to our humble abode. My mother always says, “people don’t visit everyone’s house, you are lucky that people love you and they feel like coming to your house again and again.”
This year, too, I want to feel the Eid like I do in the other years. However, deep inside, I only feel lucky to be able to still be alive and healthy. Still very lucky that all my favorite people answer to my calls, replies to my messages and are safe and sound amid the ongoing pandemic. In the other years, when I distributed my Zakats, although scanty in size, I felt a little satisfied that I could help some families celebrating Eid, to be honest. This year, all I feel is scared, I feel so little that my amount of donation might help some people buy food only for a few days, but what will happen to them next?
This realization of how little we are, and how meager we need for living pushed me into this dilemma. Do we really need all the things we claim as “necessity”? If not, then isn’t it in the small details of our life that we pass on our memory to the next generation, as I was recalling in the beginning? I don’t have an answer now. Not sure when will I be able to figure this out. But, I really hope that this change in me remains intact even after the Pandemic.