Who Am I?

I am in my last semester of Masters, and for this semester I have taken electives that I, for once, am enjoying studying and participating in. One of the electives is Teaching English Internationally. Based on the course title, I assumed, it would equip me with skills to teach English in an international setting. It is anything but. The unit delves into the migrant experiences and how language is a major but not oft seen concept in the current era of globalisation.

A little background info about me. I was born and brought up in The United Arab of Emirates till the age of 16. My family and I then moved to Australia where we have been settled for the past 8 years. So, in a sense, my identity is an amalgamation of Indo-Arab-Aussie. I have married an Indian guy who hadn’t travelled outside India until our honeymoon in Europe. Whenever I travelled to India, it was only to my relative’s place. My husband, on the other hand, has travelled all over India. My husband and I come from different states in India. In India, each state might as well be its own country. My husband and I speak completely different languages, have different cultural backgrounds etc. Since I have always lived overseas, our upbringings are also vastly different.

I had never realised the importance of identity until I got married.  I might look Indian, but my upbringing has never been because of “log kya kahenge?”. I was raised along with my two brothers but except for the fact that I should be back home by sundown, I never felt that I was limited in opportunities and freedom of expression. My in-laws are great people, but I was expected to behave like the Indian daughter-in-law. They never limited my movements, but I was expected to wake up at the beck of dawn. The food and language, albeit minor issues, were still issues. I am expected to learn a language even if the rest of Assam is fluent in a language I speak, Urdu/Hindi. Which came as a shock to me. No one can learn a language overnight. I felt like an outcast in a foreign land with a language that was alien to me. It’s not just Assam apparently. If an Assamese went to any other state of India, they would be expected to learn the language. And yes, I assume in a professional setting, that would do. But in a home setting, I would assume people would speak in a language that was understandable to all present. No? Just my family? Right.

My parents raised us in a way that wasn’t apparent in efforts but seeing families in India and their upbringing highlights the different way my parents instilled their values in us. It was never forced upon us and yet we grew up following their way. They taught us the principle of empathy. They showed us the beauty of Islam through their practice. The ideals of our Prophet for the whole of mankind and humanity was something we strived upon. My parents raised us to inculcate the good values of any culture, community or country and to disown the not so good ones. We were never patriotic to any country but I feel close to the Indians, Arabs and Aussies. They are not perfect but they can’t be stereotyped. And I, most certainly, do not fit into any stereotype. I am my own person with my own values. And I will not conform to anyone else’s expectations of how an Indian should be.

Cousins Take Control

I am the only girl in my family. Fortunately. I don’t need to share my things and more importantly my bed. I always used to yearn for a sister as my two bros are busy being boys, talking non-stop about cars and video games and other boring boy chatter. I do my girly chat with mum who makes it up for the absence of my sister by patiently listening to my blabber of the day but its just not the same. Often I can hear my brothers in their room talking late at night while I lay in my bed silently in my room, unable to sleep and wishing I had someone to talk to as well till I fell asleep. That changed recently.

So my aunt and uncle recently went to Hajj (The Islamic pilgrimage to the Holy Place of Makkah). They left behind their 3 kids (the cousins I was talking about in my last post). 2 girls (now aged 12 and 9) and a boy (aged 5).All of a sudden the house that was once masked with silence of adults quitely working on computers and laptops was now enveloped in the giggling and hysterical laughter of little kids. While I am enjoying playing ludo and watching animated movies and discussing latest teenage trends (who else hates Justin Bieber’s new haircut?), the noise and shrieky shrill piercing cry that emanates when I cut my cousins at Ludo is something my eardrums is getting adjusted to.

Another thing that I am getting adjusted to is the presence of a living being or rather living beings in my bed. You might have seen those sleeping positions : the foetus, the starfish etc. that tells what personality you are based on your sleeping position.

renotalk-sleeping-positions

I think the people who made that chart forgot to add the kicker, the hoarder and the pusher. I am the foetus. My cousins, on the other hand, not only create ruckus when they are awake and running around but even when they are asleep. The youngest kid, the boy, is hoarder. He likes to hoard onto the bed space. This leaves little space for me to curl into my position. The eldest is the pusher. Normally she is known to be the silent sleeper but I guess change in sleeping environment tends to mutanise your sleeping ability because she tends to push me out of the bed with her outstretched legs.Lastly, the evil (and the cutest) out of the three is the middle one : the kicker.Known to kick her feet around while asleep. She probably dreams of playing soccer or Beckham tutoring her to kick hard because skinny as she is, her kicks pack quite a punch. Its a good thing I have late afternoon classes as I can compensate for sleepless nights by sleeping in.

In conclusion, they have made me realise what a blessing a lack of sister in my life can be. And although I love them to bits and life seems louder with their presence, peace and quite at the end of the night is what I am starting to pine for.Even my queen size bed would agree.

***Images courtesy of Google.

You know you are desi when..

  • your mum asks who is going to marry you if you wake up so late.
  • your mum asks who is going to marry you if you don’t learn to cook.
  • your mum asks who is going to marry you if your roti ain’t round.

roti

  • your mum asks who is going to marry you if you don’t keep your room clean.
  • your mum asks who is going to marry you if you don’t know how to do the laundry.
  • your relatives ask who is going to marry you because you didn’t turn out to be a doctor.
  • your relatives ask who is going to marry you with all that NRI attitude.
  • you get to know the requirements of being eligible for a proposal (for a girl : young,fair,slim,tall,doctor,good-looking, great at household responsibilities, can cook, clean, soft spoken, well mannered etc etc. and for the boy : good salary)
  • you hear aunties talking about complexions (bechaari ka rang kam hai (poor girl is dark skinned) or parhne likhne main kuch nahi lekin rang bohat saaf hai (does not excel in studies but is really fair)).
  • you have billions of events to attend from birthdays to weddings and funerals and graduations etc.
  • you attend desi parties and have no one your age group to talk to.
  • you attend desi parties and its full of discussion on how corrupt your country is or how politicians are greedy and useless and not fulfilling their promises.
  • you attend desi parties and its full of gossip.

gossip

  • you attend desi parties and meet an aunty you have never seen before who questions everything about you from the moment you were born to your future plans, hobbies,career aspirations either to gain information for gossip or to check whether you would be a suitable match for her sister’s son back in India who is doing M.Tech and already has a job offer.
  • you attend desi weddings and all aunties be looking at you rather than the bride because they are searching for a bride for their sons.
  • you can’t wear makeup to a party (eyeshadows and bright lipsticks are a no-no) because aunties be zooming in on your face and turning noses so high up in air with scorn and disgust that it practically touches the ceiling and comment on the fact that at their time girls didn’t even look at makeup before marriage and girls nowadays are wearing so much makeup that they look like brides when in fact you just wore a thin line eyeliner (not even winged eyeliner) and a slight tint of lipgloss. Mind you, these same aunties are wearing bright red lipstick and bright pink blush that they didn’t even blend in properly. I personally believe they are fuming on the inside with jealousy that they didn’t have awesome makeup and makeup tricks at their time and try to make it up now by not letting any one wear it).
  • you can’t talk about the m word (marriage) because aunties be commenting on the fact that you are so shameless but then they ask your mum in front of you,your brothers and father whether she has started to search for prospective proposals for you.

Confused_face

  • you call one of these aunties “aunty” and they wince out audibly in pain because they are only 20-30 years older than you and hence fit under the category of appi or didi (older sister).
  • your parents lament the fact that you are a disgrace to their upbringing but get overprotective when an aunty or uncle enquire about you. In fact each desi party is not complete without a boasting competition on whose son or daughter is better.

anu-aunty-11

  • your studies is all computer-based but your parents assume you are always on YouTube or Facebook or Twitter when really you are just finishing up last minute assignments.
  • you have extended relatives that you never knew about and when you visit India your mum introduces you to some random person who supposedly is your father’s sister’s son’s uncle’s cousin’s daughter’s husband.The meeting is awkward. The questions are awkward.The answers are awkward. But you gotta be polite and smile awkwardly.
  • you are a trophy, a medal that your parents have to polish and shine so the society knows your worth and what a good job your parents did in raising you up.
  • your success depends on whether or not you became a successful doctor.
  • your beauty depends on whether or not you are fair and lovely. Also whether you are thin or not.
  • your status depends on what brand of ethnic clothing you wear, what/how many cars you own, how many kids you have, how many types of cutlery dishes you have, how many succesful huge parties you throw, how many properties you own, how many high profile upper class society people you know.
  • you can’t be on your phone 24/7 because everyone starts commenting on your zero social skills and your upbringing and how rude you are being because back in their time they would greet the guests at the door and take out the guests’ slippers and attend to the guests’ needs and entertain the guests and serve dinner and after-dinner tea and sweet dishes and put on the slippers and wave them goodbye till the guests’ car could no longer be seen.

I shall stop now. Sorry for the long list.

*Disclaimer : This is a satirical post written in good humour to incite laughter among my readers. The intention was not to offend parents,aunties, desi elders in general. Some points are exaggerations inspired by real life events, some are a balance between typical desi mindsets and attitude and some are just plain fiction. My mum is a total chill person who lets me sleep in late during weekends and vacations but advises me to train myself to wake up early. She has taught me the basics but knows I will cook and do laundry when the time comes. In fact above points do not represent my parents. With the points relating to aunties, I shall let you decide.

***All images and gif via Google Images.

East,West and the Middle

As most of you would have pieced it together by now, I am a 100% Indian who was born and brought up in the Middle East, currently living in Australia.

Fellow desis growing abroad would relate to the fact that parents try to inculcate culture in a variety of ways. For me, my parents spoke to us in Hindi/Urdu and took us to India during the summer vacations, dressed me in frocks and traditional dresses such as shalwaar kameez and lehengas rather than shirt and jeans (although that would be more a religious reason than cultural). My parents also taught us to respect elders and would rebuke us if we even joked about our teachers. We ate traditional dishes such as daal (lentil), curries and roti. We were taught to be accomodating to everyone’s tastes and to put everyone else’s needs before our own. We were taught not to talk bad about others even if they were younger to us and to not mock or ridicule anyone. We didn’t have television growing up, not because we couldn’t afford to but because my parents believed it would mature us earlier than usual.

Growing up in Dubai in the 90s, I saw like-minded selfless people who did not take the wrong meaning of what you said or did, where aunties mollycoddled you more than their children, where everyone helped each other out in anyway possible. No one had time for gossip, in fact no one cherished gossiping. Everyone cared for the betterment of others.

Cut to Australia and I not only experienced a cultural shock but psychological as well.To be honest it was latter more than the former. I mean I knew that there wouldn’t be as many desi families here than there. But even the small circle of desis that I have made here is vastly different than the group of people I grew up with. Everyone here is intent on building their own paradise. No one wants to advise or coach other’s children because they don’t want to build competition. No one wants to recommend “friends” for jobs because they don’t want to strain their own relationship with the boss.No one wants to help or give advise to anyone out of fear that the suggestion they give might be taken in the wrong way.

I used to be open-minded free thinker who gave out honest opinions as I wished. But I realised that not only people took double meanings out of it but they also later quoted me in the wrong context which used to infuriate me. I no longer speak as I please. I think thrice before I speak if I ever speak at all. What I have learnt is to keep mum at social situations.

Australia, as they say, is a land of opportunities. Too right they said. Here, I had the opportunity to get hurt. I had the opportunity to see people behind their masks. I had the opportunity to muffle my existence. I had the opportunity to grow up and meet the real world. Because Dubai was just a fairytale with its flowers of innocence and sweet gestures.

I am not attacking or eulogizing countries or generalizing its people. I am just ranting against the viewpoints and mindsets of people I have had the opportunity to get along with. Perhaps I am yet to meet selfless desis in Australia. Until then, I shall continue to be the selfless one.The way my parents raised me to be.

***Feature image via Google Image.

Mad about Minions???(Movie Review)

My brothers and I are BIG fans of Despicable Me. We love the girls especially adorable Agnes and the-giant-with-a-heart Gru  who changed our view and showed that even villains can be cool. As if that wasn’t enough,the bumbling Minions tumbled into our hearts with their mindless chuckling and giggling.

Minion2

When the trailer for Minions came out, we were excited and planned on watching it at the theatres. The trailer was hilarious and we enjoyed the 3 minute clip so much so that we watched it multiple times (not exaggerating). It released in Ramadan here in Australia and we decided to watch it after Eid when the crowds of little kids would have died down. Mikaeel’s university had not yet reopened, mine had (I skipped the lecture that day) and my older brother had returned from his class by midday. We were playing out the dialogues in the car and laughing hysterically as we entered the parking lot for the cinema. We were excited like a bunch of little kids who had heard the ice cream van. Yes, we are in our 20’s and we proudly declare that animated movies are not just for children. I bet you wouldn’t be ashamed of watching Tom and Jerry no matter how old you get.

We got the tickets and were seated in the middle. There weren’t much kids. In fact, there were more young adults like us than kids.Would have to do with the fact that it was a school afternoon.As soon as the movie started, everyone settled down. The movie started quite alright and we were awaiting for those jokes that would have us in zealous overlaughter (I made that word up : overlaughter not zealous). And we waited. And we waited. The movie ended and we waited because we thought maybe the end credits would have us rolling on the floors.

disappointed minion

Long story short : Utterly disappointed. Did not even incite a chuckle. The only funny and ingenious bits were in the trailer. So if you want to watch the Minions : DO NOT!!

Watch the trailer. It’s free. It’s funny.It saves time.

***All images via Google Images

Life of a Loner

If you read the title and assumed that I am going to complain on how lonely I am while others are out socializing, you would be wrong. I am not complaining but I am not too proud of it either.

party

Ever since I can remember, I used to enjoy parties and socializing and having a good laugh. But coming home and entering the sanctity, the warmth and solitude of home, now that, I enjoyed that more. I still do. While everyone else is posting on social media about how much fun they are having on weekend or meeting up with their mates, my only accomplishment worthy of mentioning would be that I was successful in making delicious chocolate mousse. While everyone is clicking selfies or snapping away on Snapchat on a recent meetup, I am at home, in bed, checking it all out. Now it’s not that I don’t get invites.I get heaps of invites, both on Facebook and personal. Why don’t I attend? Various reasons

  1. Religious reasons (I can’t go places such as clubs, pubs and discos (total no-no).My friend is a DJ and has invited me multiple times on Facebook to go clubbing with her and I can’t explain to her without offending her. She seemed nonplussed when I replied religious reasons and I don’t really know how to delve into it deeper without having an hour conversation).
  2. When-there-are-no-kids-your-age reason. This mainly happens during desi get-togethers. All aunties and uncles are busy gossiping away, leaving me in charge of their little kids. They don’t officially ask me to babysit but what you gonna do when you are stuck with kids whining and crying? Keep them entertained of course!!I get bored in the process. So now I attend a party once in a while but try to avoid them if I can.
  3. When your Muslim friends invite you to a lunch and choose a restaurant which sells halal chicken but also sell pork or an Indian restaurant that has all chicken and beef menu but also sell alcohol. Now the restaurants claim that they cook and fry separately, which might be true but when you have teenagers behind the counter cooking and cleaning at such places, you can’t assume they would be too careful not mixing oil or changing oils of the fryers or cleaning dishes well enough before using it for halal chicken. I mean cleaning their own rooms seems a hurdle to them. And I was a teenager once. And I know that even though I am a perfectionist when it comes to cleaning and scrubbing, even I used to get lazy once in a while.Even if there aren’t teenagers working but adults, I still wouldn’t risk it.The chicken is not halal anymore if a drop of oil that was used to cook/fry pork gets on the chicken. I avoid such places altogether.
  4. When you go to a party but people have already formed groups or you go to a party and have seen them after ages while they have been meeting practically every weekend and are having a conversation about something that happened at a party two weeks ago to which you did not go to and hence have no clue what they are talking about. You sit there clueless, not really getting the jokes and they are laughing so hysterically, they are in tears. You feel a bit lost or the feeling that you don’t belong there. So then you vow that either you will attend EVERY party from then on or mute and exit the group.Knowing me, I do the latter.

3_reasons_why_i__m_a_loner____by_raduxt-d55gmd5

And hence, tis the life of an eternal loner who would rather spend weekends writing blog entries and playing Sudoku or word puzzles than be turnt up for the weekends. And that’s nothing to be ashamed off or pitied on.Do what makes you comfortable. The only downside is your friends are going to think you are a haughty snob but oh well, doesn’t warm tea (or coffee) and warm bed sound heavenly?

girl with tea

*** All images via Google Images. Excuse the spelling of “Because” in 3 reasons image. I inserted it  because it was spot on and fit with the article perfectly.

Behind the Scenes

Ok , so when I first made the commitment to start blogging like a week ago, I made myself promise that I would blog 5 days a week, no excuses. I would take the weekend off for family commitments, to catch up on my studies, and to plan what to write next or if inspiration struck me, I could start writing drafts. Believe it or not, most of my posts are written during these family parties where I have no one of my age to strike up a conversation with and so I am huddling on my phone, typing away while aunties around me try to catch a glimpse on who I am texting so furiously.

girl texting

I have just started my final semester of my degree in Biotechnology with 1 core unit and 2 electives. (3 electives at the start but I dropped one off as schedule was getting over-hectic (is over-hectic even a word?)). I tutor English to secondary level kids for scholarship exams on Sundays and I recently have volunteered in this mentoring program of RMIT, in2science, which is basically going to a secondary level school in the area that you live in and guide and advise the students about the differences of secondary and tertiary level of education and how exciting university life is. So I go there on Mondays. Saturday and Friday evenings are booked in for family get togethers. Rest of the week, it’s university. Now normally I am fine with all this because its going pretty chill at university for the first two weeks. But when your lecturers start piling you up with assignments and assessments, that’s when the balance tips over. Of course the fact that I procrastinate on my uni work just serves as a cherry on top of the huge cake of crazy chores.

overwhelmed (1)

The deadline for this mini (look how deceiving these lecturers can be while naming their assignments (it’s not MINI at all!!)) assignment tutorial task is 5 pm tomorrow. And wonders of wonders, why am I (the master procrastinator) doing it a day before, you may ask? Well, it’s not to do with the fact that I have straightened my ways (aww hell no!!), but I have a lecture from 8:30 to 11:30, then an hour break, then a tutorial from 12:30 to 1:30 and a practical from 2 to 6 p.m. So by the time, I exit the laboratory, I will have missed the deadline. Hence, the struggle to submit it tonight is real.

You know when you are doing an assignment at the last-minute but there is always the distractions of social media bugging you and hence you can’t focus? Well, my guilty conscience wouldn’t let me do my not-so mini assignment tutorial task until I actually blogged and hence I present to you my word vomit.

I am sorry, there wasn’t actual content to blog today, but I wanted to let you know behind the scenes of the cause and that in future, if my posts seem a bit off, you will know why. I will still blog 5 days (crap content or not). That is a promise I promise to keep (insert some inspirational quote to make you weep) (wow,that rhymed).

*** All images are taken from Google Search.

Schnitzels of BBQ Wrap (Review)

It had been quite a while since I had visited Werribee Plaza (now known as Pacific Werribee). In fact I can’t recall the last time I had been there since I returned from India 6 months ago. So my brothers and I decided to go check out the revamped complex last weekend. While we were there we decided to eat out at the Malaysian eatery BBQ wrap.


My brothers decided to order the Spicy Schnitzel while I settled on the Classic Schnitzel (from the Chicken Schnitzel Wrap Line (there is also Hawaii Schnitzel)) since my stomach is unable to handle anything to do with s of spices (ironic given my heritage).

It took about 10 minutes for the order to get ready and we attacked the schnitzels as soon as we unwrapped it from its gold packaging. The schnitzel was nicely cooked and there were good lashings of sauces and dips which made it yummier and easier to swallow. By 3 quarters of it, I was too full to even look at it and wrapped it away for midnight snacking. Mikaeel , on the other hand, was snivelling tears as he is a non-spicy Indian like me. My older brother Khalid was the only one who was still too busy relishing to see our defeat.

The pros :

  • Comes in gold packaging. 
  • Halal 
  • Has kid friendly options.
  • Decent amount of stuffings and toppings for the cost. Quite a bargain.
  • Customer friendly staff.
  • Efficient service.

The cons :

  • You pay extra for additional sauces.

In short, I would recommend BBQ Wrap and its schnitzels (try Cassic for starters or if you are more daring, spice it up with Spicy). I haven’t had the opportunity to try other stuff on the menu, but they all look promising and delicious.

Bored of board games??

I am a 90’s kid and as most people who grew up in the 90’s would know, board games, tamagotchis and Pokemon were the rage. In fact, my brothers and I have an ice cream box filled with Pokemon cards. My little brother Mikaeel and I were reminiscing about how we used to spend summer vacation nights playing Monopoly and how we had three tamagotchis, one for each. Mine and Mikaeel’s was a blue tamagotchi while my older brother Khalid had a red tamagotchi and we all had dinosaurs as pets. Somehow they died and I can’t recall if we ever named them. I, to this day, believe 90’s era was the best era to be brought up in.


tamagotchipokemon

My parents recently hosted a dinner party where the guests were a mix of aunties, uncles and the littlies (ranging from 5 to 12 years of age). To keep the kids entertained, we downloaded a couple of animated movies. When we questioned whether they would like to watch Minions, a general response of “We’ve already watched it” rang out. After giving them a series of options such as Home, Tangled, Frozen, Up, Toy Story (all three parts), Monsters, Inc., etc, and getting “no, nope, borrrriinngg, seen that, hate that” in response, I decided to settle for my final trump card : Lion King (a movie that even I (non-repeater of books and movies) would watch countless times over and still not be able to get over Mufasa’s death). I was shocked when almost all kids made a face in mock horror for me to be so stupid as to suggest such an old classic when they found the recents so ho hum and mundane. So then I brought my board games such as Monopoly, Ludo, Battleship, Snakes and Ladders, Scrabble and Pictionary among many others.

monopoly-w-baltic

What I didn’t realise was that these kids were the I generation, where iPhones, iPads and iMac dominated their eating,sleeping and waking habits. They slept with iPhone’s in their hands, woke up with it ringing and ate with Youtube playing their cartoons. So naturally the concept of board games as a form of entertainment not only seemed medieval but absurd to them. And no matter how exciting or appealing I tried to make the plastic counters and cardboard game board, the kids just seem uninterested and indifferent. In the end I gave up and fetched the iPad that resulted in squeals of pleasure and satisfaction and a few minutes later the ruckus died down as they found a video suited to everyone’s taste. I was left with feelings of woe and disappointment, seeing them huddled around screen, eyes wide, enchanted and motionless, almost brain dead as zombies, recalling how I used to scream and shout at Mikaeel for taking rent money from me when I was broke at Monopoly, not considering the fact that I was his only sister.

Maybe I consider 90’s to be the best, the same way my mum considers her childhood to be the best. Maybe these kids will grow up someday and shake their heads at their kids with 4D technology and futuristic gadgets and recount on how their childhood was simple and the best. And maybe I should just consider being grateful for having such great childhood memories while understanding that each kid is living the best childhood he/she can.

*** All images taken from Google Search

Moon Sighting Confusion!!

Background : The Islamic calendar is based on the moon, unlike the Gregorian calendar that follows the sun. So for Muslims the beginning of the next day actually starts at sunset and not at 12 am midnight.Also since it’s a lunar calendar, each month of the Islamic calendar is of 29/30 days as opposed to 30/31 days.

Ramadan this year was quite uneventful. By uneventful I don’t mean that it wasn’t very spiritually enlightening, rather the Imam of my mosque slammed down all the commotion that occurs every year of when the Eid* will be by asking the mosque- goers that there wouldn’t be a single question or discussion on it. I came to Australia 5 years ago and there hasn’t been a single Ramadan that wasn’t fraught with debates on moon sighting and occurrence of Eid. People wish to know before-hand which day the festival falls on so they can take the day off work and kids can quit school for the day. By before-hand I mean like a month earlier. Now Eid and moon-sighting go hand in hand.If one can sight a sliver of the crescent moon on the 29th or 30th night of Ramadan,then Eid is declared the next day. How can anyone know when the moon will be spotted a month before-hand?

moon-vi-1189221

Now get this : The board of Imams declared Eid to be on Friday, the 17th of July, 2015. They declared it on Tuesday the 16th of June ,2015, almost a month early to hush the persistent questioning of people whining about Eid, holidays, and problematic bosses. And thus Ramadan was quite peaceful.

On the 29th night, after breaking the fast, my older brother Khalid and me (and later the whole family) went out to sight the moon with our naked eye. It had always been the tradition of mum and me to eat Iftar** as quickly as we could and go for moon-sighting. Usually Melbourne sky is enveloped with clouds but that evening the sky was as clear as could be. And despite efforts put in by the whole family, the moon couldn’t be sighted. Next option : to rely on sighting from Hilal committee (Moon Sighting Committee), the experts with the big telescopes. And by Isha*** , it was declared that the moon was not sighted anywhere in Australia. The board of Imams, on the other hand, stuck to their decision of celebrating on Friday. Maybe it hurt their ego or maybe the wrath of thousands of Melburnians who had taken leave according to schedule would be overwhelming. My family decided to stick to moon-sighting and hence we would celebrate Eid on Saturday after observing the whole 30 day fast. We were in the minority but we were adamant. The majority were feeling a bit apprehensive but they justified with the hadeeth of following the Imam.

eid

We fasted the next day while our friends celebrated Eid. Eid was also declared in Saudi Arabia and so people celebrating got to validate their Eid. Of course we attended the parties throughout the day which were full of debates and exchange of views on who is right and who is not. We neither condoned nor condemned anyone. But all this left me feeling a bit nonplussed.

Two days ago, the Saudi government announced that the moon sighted on the Thursday evening was in fact incorrect as it was not the moon that was sighted, rather the planet Saturn. And hence Eid was actually meant to be on the Saturday.

The End.

*The Islamic festival of celebration that happens at the end of Ramadan.

**Breaking of fast.

*** The night prayer.

^The crescent image is via Freeimage while the Eid celebration is from Google Search