The Gift Of Eid

                

                                                                   

           ‘Eid’ literally translates to celebration. It is a unique, placid festival from a religion that allegedly is bent on destroying world peace. Ironically, the root word of Islam means peace, making it one of the most misunderstood religion. Eid does not commemorate an event in history, but demands a share of sacrifice each year – Ramadan. Fitr means breaking a fast and hence ‘Eid-ul-Fitr’ defines the celebration of the breaking of fasts, or the end of Ramadan. A typical Eid morning starts with bathing and cleansing oneself followed by a light diet of dates and sewai, mostly. People from all around the town, or city start gathering at different mosques to offer their Salat (Prayer). People sit in arrays on the floor, or a field under the sky while the preacher delivers his sermons. Hundreds and thousands of people bow together, under an Imam (preacher) to the majesty of an eternal power, and when the prayers are done, the celebration begins. There is no music, no dance, no ecstatic cries, but only people smiling as they hug each other, and this perhaps is the best part.

Billions of people all around the globe smile to each other. Even broken hearts are mended as fake smiles turn genuine throughout. Welcoming people with wide open arms leaves no crack open in the heart, of the receiver or the giver, and just in a matter of seconds, the entire place, the entire world is floating in happiness. It is not the happiness you get when you buy a new phone or visit a new place, it is the purest form of happiness, the one we were built upon. It doesn’t matter who you are, or where you are from, or what you are wearing, or how you look, or even if you know someone or not! If you are brave enough to make an eye contact, you will find the most exultant feeling in the world. No one is left lonely on the ground, people will find you, and people will hug you! Once you step into the flow, you will hug people! Kids, old men, strangers, enemies, friends, it doesn’t matter who it is unless you are drowned in bliss.

                In a world where even ‘friends’ turn their faces away looking at you in the crowd, a landscape filled with strangers bent on sharing their share of joy with other strangers seems like a dream, but it is true. The veracity of the world turns even the most optimistic into a pessimist. But looking at the landscape restores your faith in the world, in God. It’s a painting you wish to be in forever.

                In such a painting there was a man named Rehan. The prayers had ended ten minutes ago, but Rehan was not yet free from embracing his kin. In a small town like Gurudang, every man is a kin. Being a senior English teacher at the St. Andrews School, he was well known throughout – for his astounding teaching skills, and even more for his benevolent nature.

                “It did not rain this time”, said a fat man as he descended down the mosque’s stairs.

                “It’s all God’s grace”, Rehan smiled back.

                “True! And how is everything else going on? I heard they raised you salary this time”, he smirked.

                “Oh, the good days aren’t here yet”, he chuckled.

                “But there are delicious sewai on the menu today, sir?”

                “Of course. They are waiting for you desperately in our house”, he smiled and looked at the southern gate of the mosque as he made his exit, “Would you excuse me for a minute, I’ll join you later.”

                “As salaam alaikum”, he greeted a man near the gate. The man handed over, what seemed like the last packet of food, to the last of the beggars and turned around. He was no more of a man than he was a boy. White half-sleeved shirt with an imbricate pattern of grey criss-crosses on it, and a lightly shaded denim jeans. It didn’t seem like an Eid attire. He smiled at Rehan and hugged him thrice following a handshake and said, “Eid Mubarak.” His voice did not seem very harsh, but his actions were prudent.

                “I haven’t seen people distributing food at the mosque in a long time, and I probably haven’t seen you before in the town either. May I ask who you are?” he said gracefully.

                “My name is Advay, and I’m not from this town. I’m from Rehalgarh, a city towards the east.”

                “That is a”, he paused, “a beautiful name. So what brings you here?”

                “Eid”, he replied.

                “Hey Rehan! Let’s go”, someone from behind exclaimed.

                “I guess I need to go” he said softly, “Do you have any work now?”

                “None in particular, my bus leaves in the evening, so I guess I’ll be wandering around for some time” he looked around at the place and how it was slowly deserting.

                “You can join us then. I live nearby, and more importantly, you shouldn’t be alone on an occasion as auspicious as this.”

                He wondered for a while and showed his interest only by nodding his head.

                The fully opened gate gave way to a cosy room instilled with brilliant white tiles with light grey criss-cross patterns on them, as if they were made to match Advay’s shirt. There was only one gigantic ceiling fan for the room.

                “You may sit here”, Rehan pointed at the skilfully decorated sofa as he held up a little bowl from the table. He carefully poured some sewai into the bowl making sure not to soil the comely table cloth. “I may get a little busy for the next half hour or so, you make yourself at home, eat without hesitation”, he smiled.

One after the other, the guests arrived in impeccable kurtas and bright topis. Their smiles showed how all of them shared the same joy. Hugs and jokes filled the room with positivity. The ambience was one of a kind. People entered, laughed, sat and ate little of what they wanted from the numerous dishes served on the table. Some looked at the posters and artefacts in little showcases and explained how beautiful they looked. One of them pointed at a little clay pot and explained how he had received the same from a friend who was in Mecca the previous year. Most of the guests seemed like old friends of the teacher. There were some who kept chattering and some who kept quiet. Some praised the food, some praise the cook. Some thanked Rehan while some invited him to their house for the evening. But the one thing common in all was the sheer joy in which they bathed. Smiles were infectious and for one moment out of a thousand, people forgot their worries, their status, their wealth and their shortcomings. All people cared of was being happy. The ideal world exists in sporadic elusive moments, you cannot create these moments, they just happen. All you can do is bask in their light and absorb every inch of them refiling your soul for the ‘normal days’ to come.

Gradually, the crowd lessened and Rehan thumped down on the sofa with a gasp of relief. He realised how he had totally neglected his invited guest who now sat right beside him.

“Eid is a hectic festival”, he said staring at the ceiling fan.

“Not in the city”, he replied.

“What do you mean?”

“You had so many visitors here, and I’m sure there are more to come. In the city, we offer our prayers and get back to our homes just like you, but we don’t have many guests. We eat our breakfasts and watch TV. In the meantime we have about three to ten guests, who are mostly people who visit us daily. Then we rest for a while and go to houses we were invited in the evening”, he took a breath of air, “Yours is a more jubilant style.”

“We celebrate it with infinite enthusiasm every year.”

“So do many small towns, where everyone knows everyone, the city is too big to know itself”, he gasped.

Rehan looked at him as he gazed at the cyan walls, “You have a nice house.”

“Thank you. But you haven’t told me yet what brought you to our small town.”

Advay turned to Rehan, looked him in his eyes and said, “I’m a traveller searching for treasure.”

“Treasure?” Rehan was puzzled.

“Yes”, he exclaimed, “A knowledgeable Sufi saint once told me that my destiny is to find treasure and distribute it to the world.”

There was a moment of silence which was broken by Rehan’s words, “Did he tell you where the treasure is?”

“He spoke in rhymes and puzzles. He said I would find it on the third rock.”

“And where is that?”

“I do not know” he sighed.

“So you rode out of your house believing some unviable words of a Sufi?”

“Yes” he replied alarmed.

Rehan took a deep breath and continued, “Experience has taught me that too much of optimism always leads to disappointment. You are young and have an entire life before you. I don’t know you, but I would suggest you to work on something viable, that would promise you a secured life.”

“There’s no such thing as a secured life. The beauty of life is in not knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow.”, he got up and refilled his bowl with delectable dahi-phulki.

“Yes there is, and it’s not hard to achieve. I have seen many dreamers fall hard to the ground because they were too involved in staring at the sky and not looking at the ground. I teach poetry, I believe in dreams and magic, but magic only happens when you are at the right place at the right time, doing the right thing. I lost a younger brother years ago because I did not stop him, I could not help him find an egress, and he was trapped forever”, he sighed, “You remind me of him – young and naïve.”

“I am sorry for you brother”, he paused as he sat on the sofa, “My parents died in an accident twelve years ago. I had no one left. The rented house was gone and I had no place to live. I somehow managed to survive for a few months finding small jobs in the city, but I was growing weaker by the day. I finally decided to head to the Suma hills and jump off a cliff. I stood there at the edge, seconds away from giving away my life, when a call stopped me. It was the Sufi. An overgrown beard and badly done hair gave him the appearance of a beggar. He stopped me from giving up and told me how God had a plan for me, how God had chosen me to find a treasure and then to give it away. There was magic in his voice, his breath somehow instilled strength in me. He also gave me his locket and asked me to only open it when I find the treasure. He gave me something in a time where I had nothing. You may call it unviable, but I shall not disown it. I shall and I will find the treasure.”

No words were exchanged for a short time after his speech.

“Why is it so silent this Eid?” a man sang jolty as he entered the room.

“Of course it’s you Rahim”, Rehan exclaimed in joy, “When did you return?”

“Yesterday night”, his head moved constantly as he spoke.

“Have some pulao then” Rehan turned around.

“There’s no time for that! We need to go”, he grabbed Rehan’s shoulder.

“I have a guest here” he looked at Advay, who was rather busy writing something on a piece of paper.

“Oh tag him along, he would love the bucolic landscape outside. Wouldn’t you?” he looked and Advay and laughed.

“I would love to”, he replied as he folded the paper keeping it in his shirt’s pocket.

A wide river flowed from one end of the horizon to the other. The banks were partially occupied with people either busy fishing or gazing the cumulus above. The remainder was filled with shrubs and overgrown weeds. The two friends were busy talking to one another admiring the light breeze while Advay clicked pictures. The conversation seemed to have ended and Rehan walked up to the boy.

“This is a beautiful place” Advay explained, “What’s that at the other end?” he pointed at the high green walls across the river.

“That’s the cemetery” Rehan replied.

“Oh” and a gasp of air.

“Every Eid, Rahim and I walk up to this bank and spend some quiet time. I was related to my brother by blood, he, by love. We come here to look up to him since the past twelve years. His grave is right at the mouth of that gate” he pointed.

“Why don’t you go in?”

An eerie silence filled the place. His vibes spoke for him.

Advay thought for a while and replied, “Ever since I met the Sufi, I have been travelling around, and I have gained a lot in doing so. I have seen the strong fall to their knees and I have seen the weak attaining glory. One thing that I realised is that miracles happen everywhere, all the time. We only see a few because we are open to a few, because we like to stay cosy, shrivelled up in our comfort zones, blind to the beauty of the world. I understand how your brother felt. He must not have been a lot different than me. Help me find the treasure and I promise you miracles.”

Rehan stared inanely at his face, he was pushed into rethinking what was right and what was not. Meanwhile Advay took out the folded piece of paper and handed it over to him.

                                                ‘On the third rock lies,

                                                 The greatest treasure of all,

                                                 Like the truth covered in lies,

                                                 It is not seen by all.’

“What does this mean?” Rehan asked.

“I have been trying to decipher it since a long time.”

“We can talk over it at my house”

“We’re running out of time though.”

“Through my teaching experience, I can say that people who speak in rhymes and riddles do not wish to state the obvious, there’s always a deeper meaning to the sentences, to every word used!” Rehan cleared the table as his guest sat on the immaculate sofa “The third rock can be allegorical, literal or just nothing. To understand it, we need to understand the context of the words. Where and why they were written.”

“The Sufi only enchanted these to me as he swayed his head from side to side. He seemed out of place, like he was talking to God himself.”

“Hmm” Rehan put his arm around his chin, covering his left cheek with his palm “Wait here, I’ll be back in a moment” he walked inside, into another room.

There were no questions about truth or lies, about life or death or about right or wrong in Rehan’s head. He was just busy scavenging for something when he heard a cry “HELP REHAN!”

He at once made for the room outside, but his guest was gone.

“HELP ME!” followed by another shriek and the sound of a motor starting.

He rushed outside to look at his guest being abducted in his own vehicle.

“What happened?” Rehan’s wife rushed outside.

“You stay inside with Fariq and lock the doors tight. Shut the windows too, I’ll be back in a while” he loped inside to get his bike keys and at once began following the kidnapper.

‘What did just happen? Is this a dream? How can something like this happen all of a sudden? How did everything pace up so fast?’ so many questions bombarded his mind in a flash. He had no time to reflect on them, but one thing was certain, he would never let Advay get hurt in any way imaginable. He followed the red car through the firm road and through the thick forest. The sky had grown murkier and the winds stronger. As he chased the car through the thickets of vegetation, he began losing pace. The car grew smaller and smaller and he felt his grip loosening. All of a sudden a picture of his brother flashed in his brain and he was open to all the darkness he had kept locked deep inside.

One memory came with a hundred more and an avalanche of emotions was triggered. He felt his brother evanescent once again as fear gripped his senses. Tears started flowing from his eyes, one after the other. The clouds were ready to shower too. He came through, following the tracks. He crossed the bridge and looked at his car left open outside a perimeter. He left his bike in the mud and sprinted inside the gate. “Advay!” He shouted at the top of his voice.

He looked around and saw a man lying down in the mud with his back resting against the wall and head facing the ground. “Advay!” Rehan exclaimed as he shook him by the shoulder, “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happed?”

“It’s not about what happened. It is about what is going to happen” he turned his head up and looked straight into Rehan’s eyes.

“What?” he said in a softer yet alarmed tone.

“Look around.”

It was a huge field covered with large trees at random points. Feeble paths ran around the field alongside various swellings of the ground. Numerous swellings, like earth itself was ready to burst open through every bulge. A huge banyan tree stood at the centre while many peepal trees covered the surroundings. The tainted walls were tall enough to withstand intruders and keep the ones inside safe from the derelict world. Rehan stood in the graveyard, he stood before his brother’s grave. Rehan lay on his knees as he emotionlessly stared at the grave with an open mouth.

Advay walked behind him and said “I found the treasure. Not today, but a long time ago. I wandered aimlessly throughout in a hope to find the treasure. I met a very rich man who complained of not having any free time. I met a very poor man, who complained of not having enough money. I met a celebrity who was tired of fame and excess love. I met a lost veteran who was tired of negligence. I met an uneducated man hungry for knowledge, and I met a learned scholar too drowned in knowledge. I met the dullest and I have met the wisest, but in none, I found joy.”

“Once I was travelling in a train when a child snatched my locket and broke it open. The parents apologized for minutes, but the child was laughing and smiling all the time. I looked into the locket, and it was empty. I reflected on it and realised, that happiness is in having nothing! It is in holding on to nothing! It is in letting go. Happiness is in simplicity. And it is the purest form of treasure, it is not seen by all, just like a truth covered in lies. And my destiny, my plan as decided by the gods, is to distribute this treasure throughout. You need to let go of the pain you’ve kept condensed inside. You need to cry with your brother, for as long as you want, but let him go in the end. Else the pain will hurt both and happiness will never bloom, for you or for him. You need to see the truth. You can cry now.”

The long sermon was enough to trigger the long collecting hurt. Tears fell off his face to the ground, one then another, then another and soon the entire field was under dripping water. The sky could no longer hold it too. There was thunder that covered the bone-chilling cries of the man. The shouts and screeches were not heard by anyone but the sky. The thunder was heard clearly by Rehan, and by all. There was no seeming end to this storm. The rain had raised the water level of the river, while the happy traveller boarded his bus to continue his journey on the third rock.