eid mornings

I think of Eid mornings in Hyderabad, the sound of the azaan from the mosque near our house, the smell of sheer khurma wafting from the kitchen, my mother's hands moving quickly as she fries the vermicelli noodles in ghee, the sizzle and crackle of the oil, the sweetness of the dates and the cardamom, the way the sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the intricate patterns on the floor, the way my father would hand out eidi to my siblings and me, the crisp new notes and the coins, the feel of the money in our hands, the way we would run to the eidgah near our house, the open ground where everyone would gather to pray, the sea of white kurta pyjamas, the sound of the imam's voice, the way the prayers seemed to go on forever, the feeling of hunger and thirst after the long fast, the smell of the food vendors outside the eidgah, the biryani and the kebabs, the way the day would stretch out before us, endless and full of possibility. I remember the way my mother would pack the food for the eidgah, the round rotis and the chicken curry, the way she would wrap the parathas in a cloth, the way the food would smell when we unwrapped it, the taste of the curry and the roti, the way the flavors would mix together, the smell of the earth and the grass, the way the sun would beat down on us, the sound of the birds chirping, the way the day would slowly come to an end, the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky, the feeling of exhaustion and contentment, the way we would walk back home, our feet aching, our stomachs full, the sound of the crickets and the rustling of the leaves, the smell of the night blooming flowers, the way the world seemed to slow down, the way everything seemed to come alive. The eidgah near our house was a large open ground, surrounded by trees and a small pond, the sound of the water and the birds, the way the sunlight would filter through the trees, the smell of the grass and the earth, the way the ground would feel beneath our feet, the sound of the prayers and the chants, the way the crowd would surge forward, the sound of the imam's voice, the way the prayers would seem to go on forever, the feeling of hunger and thirst, the smell of the food vendors, the sound of the laughter and the chatter, the way the day would slowly come to an end, the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky, the feeling of exhaustion and contentment.