Gone Days, A story From the Heart

Gone Days, A Story From the Heart

I sometimes wonder if I will ever have the same moment as I used to have as a young girl and if the lost days will come back again. After moving to the United States from Pakistan, I haven't celebrated the festival of Eid with the same excitement and emotions as I used to. It only feels like a holiday that I don’t celebrate and that I don’t recognize. I only get happy because I will have another day off from my daily business, and so I can rest more. I can only look back to my memories, and then imagine how would it be if everything was like before now. Eid-ul-Azha is the second Eid of the year, and more sacred than the first one It is celebrated to show respect to the Prophet Ibrahim who was ready to sacrifice his son in the obedience of God. We sacrifice an animal every year. In Pakistan, I used to celebrate Eid by welcoming happiness, by preparing for it, and by planning for all three days, but nothing is the same now that I am in United States. It’s all gone.

In preparation of Eid, most important was the animal. As a child, I always had a pleasurable feeling whenever I saw the animal that my family and I was going to sacrifice. I felt as we were doing something meaningful and great, and I felt lucky that God gave us the opportunity to be at the position to perform such an obedient act. Now, it is different. After moving here, I don’t have that feeling because my family and I can’t buy an animal in Chicago, and bring it home. All those feelings are gone. In Chicago, what my family can do is give money to an organization, and they will put our share in whatever we want them to, whether it’s a sheep or a cow. My family can’t put our because it’s too expensive for us. In Pakistan, when we were done sacrificing, my parents used to give the meat to poor and needy, and the leftovers to relatives and then some to our fridge. In Chicago, it’s not even close to the same. Even if we give money to an organization, they don’t give us the meat, so we are not able to do anything with it.

Equally important were my personal preparations, which I think would be the same for all the girls. It was going shopping with my mother and purchasing everything new. I used to plan what kind of clothes I wanted wear on all three days, the colors, style, and the kind of cloth, and how I wanted it to look. A month or two before, I used to start preparing my three looks. I used to go to the market with my mother to get the clothes and lace and buttons that I wanted on it, and then tell the tailor how I wanted him to design it. Later, when my clothes were ready I used to get new matching shoes, jewellery, bangles, and all that was needed. The night before Eid is called, “Chand Raat” which means a night with the new moon. On Chaand Raat, I felt obligated to get my henna done. In Chicago, I never felt the need to get new clothes. I never felt the same emotions, because after coming here I have never felt the joy and excitement as I used to have.

Moreover, all three days had something new and they were very exciting and full of enjoyment. My aunts and uncles used to come to our house with their family. There were a total of eight families. We all had lunch and dinner together, and sometimes we used to go outside to sightsee or to get ice-cream or to some restaurant. In the U.S., I don’t have many relatives, only my uncle and his family. We only celebrate the first day and then get back to our regular lives. The one day that we spend is just like any other day we would spend together, having lunch or dinner and spending some quality time together. We never go out to eat or to sightsee. Sometimes we don’t even take the day off from school or college because we don’t want to stay at home.

After moving to Chicago from Pakistan, I have lost my joy and excitement for one of my favorite festivals. I have lost all my special feelings. I can’t get the blessings of people to whom we gave meat. I can’t prepare for Eid as I used to do in my country because the clothing style is so much different here, nor can I attend family gatherings. In addition we also can’t share our valuable time together because I left everyone back in Pakistan. Those perfect days might be gone, but the perfect memories they left are still in my heart. Now, I have realized that the moments we live in are the most important, and we need to enjoy the time we live in instead of planning for tomorrow or wasting the present because who knows if we will have them again or not.