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Despite the crippling heat of the summers that forced everyone inside the four walls of their homes, preparations to celebrate Eid with full force were being made. No one, or nothing, could stop the people of Lahore from enjoying the festival to it's fullest capacity. The thought itself was highly unacceptable, after all this was a joyous occasion that bound everyone together. Rich or poor, woman or man, relative or stranger, everyone in the city was ready to be a part of it all. From decorating the walls of their homes with thin fairy lights, in the yellow and orange colors, to buying envelopes of crisp manilla paper to fill in with the eidi.
Inside the Khawar's palatial home, preparations were finally complete as the clock struck five in the morning. It was tradition to wake up early, before the sun rose so that the women could work on the days meal and the men could begin to get ready for the morning prayer. Over time, it had dwindled dying down, yet still fighting hard with it's last breath to overcome the new traditions. It toppled over the wave of the new generation that deemed it cool to sleep in late, to wake up only a few minutes before their father's left for the prayer, to hastily pull on their dresses with drowsiness inside their eyes.
While the home dozed off, the matriarch worked in silence with her train of servants. Heavy base copper pots bubbled with thickened milk and spices on top of the stove. The aroma of fresh cardamom filled its way through the ground floor of the home, knocking on the door of the occupants that slept — unknown to the delicacies that which were being prepared. Slaeema worked hands on, her hands moving with a calculated pace, massaging the spices and herbs into the minced meat forming uniform circular patties — lest any guest decide to show up.
The wizened gaze of the woman whose hair had turned grey over the years ran over the preparations one last time. Thoroughly scrubbing her hands with the soap on the industrial sized sink. Her wedding ring, the one with a small ruby encrusted on the palladium twisted with ease. The skin now wrinkled allowed for it to move as it please. She smiled with a distant look inside her eyes, reminded of what life was like in those early days of her own marriage. The ones with the shy, sweet innocent love she had wished her children would face in their lives too.
"Amma ap abhi soyi nahi?" Her eldest daughter in law, walked into the still brightly lit kitchen. [Mother you didn't sleep yet?]
"Eid keh din kis ko neend ati hai?" She smiled wistfully. [Who feels sleepy on the day of Eid?]
"Woh tou theek hai magar apni sehat ka khayal rakha karein". Haya smiled. [That's alright but take care of your health.]
"Yeh baatein Allah keh haath mein hai, ab tou bas apni Zaara ki shaadi dekh lun uskay baad jab marzi dam nikal jaye". [These things are in the hand of Allah, now I just want to see Zaara's wedding after that doesn't matter when I die.]
