Eid & Tragedy

If a tragedy strikes during the Eid days, all the remaining Eids become tragic afterwards, till death do them apart. Eid brings pain and nothing else afterwards. Be it Eid of Summers or Winters. It hurts.

A traffic warden died yesterday. On chand raat, while on duty. Had a three-year-old daughter who was taken away from him by his wife. He was supposed to meet her on Eid day. Apart from his cumbersome father’s role – and a professional duty – he was a son too. A brother too. And a father figure as he helped his mother raising her other children. And just when he settled his siblings, he departed. Was not allowed to settle his daughter. Was hit, crushed, and left. Died. Or murdered.

For you, it’s just a statistic. A number. A traffic warden. Not the traffic warden. A father. Not the father. A son. Not the son. A brother. Not the brother.  

Or it can be a newspaper story for you. A TV ticker for any news channel. Newspaper story will die in a day. Tickers will end in two days. And that would be that. A life gone by. Crushed and dusted.

A life that was already tragic for a father and his daughter, ended just like that. And nothing happened. No earthquake. No tsunami. No eclipse. No apocalypse.

The left ones will mourn every chand raat from now onwards. And every Eid too. That’s how some Eids are. Tragic. For a lot of people.  

And that’s how our lives are too. Just like a cat crossing a road and getting crushed by a vehicle. At random. With no dots to connect and with no loss to grieve except for the scratches on the bumper. Or maybe not a cat, as it sounds fancy. Maybe a dog.

There were some right here with us on last Eid. Their profiles, numbers, DPs, and memories are still here; but we can’t call or talk to them.

We had it like they will always be here. As we take everything for granted until terminal illness finds its ways.

Then there are so many others who left us in our small span of life. The number of funerals we are destined to attend are decreasing every passing year. Until our own funeral. Which doesn’t occur to us. Because we shall never die.

Eid is one occasion where we go to graveyards and say our salaam. Fateha can be a beautiful gift one can offer to the deceased ones. It travels from the land to the heavens even there is no… connection.

Broken people, broken dreams; some with health issues, some breeding cancer deep inside, and some just having another Eid but nothing like the previous one when that particular loved one was around and sitting right across the sofa. Where do they all go?

Where has the father gone? Where is the mother? Open the old cupboard and sniff and try to get that one shot of their scent. Long and slow breaths and you will travel through the times to a hug that you have been missing. Smell has a memory. We don’t realize it until the perfume is gone.

Where is the aunt? The uncle? And the old man who used to sit at the bus stop?

And where are the kids? Sons? Daughters? Eid Mubarik? The parents who lost their parenthood cannot be happy for a moment. They can be seen laughing and smiling but they are not those laughs and smiles. No Eid or happiness can bring back their joy of life ever again.

Only kids can have a happy Eid till they are carefree and clueless. But not all kids. Naru cannot have a happy Eid. His mother died in pursuit of his father who is missing… like other missing people… in the deep hell of this deep state.

So many holes. So many pains. Yet, we stand and embrace and hug each other like we are actually smiling with happiness. Maybe we do! After all, we are all born with hypocrisy. I know. Wrong word.

Some are financially weak, and Eid makes them even more vulnerable. The better-off offering more Eidi to the kids and the weak ones being exposed around. Happy Eid!

And those old folks who made us, and the old lady who kept us warm in her belly for nine months, and the sofa with a missing spot and the cupboard with the scent, and the bricks in the house, and the leaking tap in the bathroom… everything has a missing. Everything has a missing point.

Some of us run away from the bricks and the cupboards and the sofas as we don’t want to travel through time while time itself is sneaking away right through our hands like a fistful of desert sand.

Mirage! This is all a mirage. Tell me, how many years since 2018? I can count to 2. See! We are a missing point.


This is how we are supposed to carry on the burden of legacy and humankind. Evolution. Reproduction. Death. Decay. Without a choice. Without consent.

So, Eid Mubarik! With all the pains, nostalgia, time travels, and missing points. The Sofa across you is empty today. Your sofa will be empty tomorrow. And you think you two will meet afterwards when both the sofas will be empty and that’s the point where…just kidding. Let’s not open the pandora box today.

Not today, Zarathustra!

Remember those who are not with us anymore. Say a prayer for them.

And meet those who are with us. Show them how important they are for us and for this entire world.

May Allah be happy with us.

May people be unharmed by us.

Author: SakiNama

His Highness

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