Eid in lockdown

Celebrated twenty and a couple more of eid ul fitrs so far.  It is always the same. There is comfort in consistency :) 

Sumptuous, somewhat unique,  breakfast of soft idlis, chicken curry with green masala and coconut chutney, a dollop of ghee and shakkar. The last two, needless to say, in my honour. The lone vegetarian in the family.

Much awaited mutton biryani, baingan ka saalan, chicken kebab, onion raitha and cucumber salad land on the dining table at around 2 pm, leaving just enough space for bisibele baath to comfortably, and respectfully, fit in.

And right by the side, a dessert spread as eclectic as it can get:  Tiramisu and trifle often with a cake casually thrown in, courtesy my lovely sister in law; Jamuns, mutanjan, kheer, falooda by our own cordon bleu, my mother in law;  and Mysore Pak with rave unde (semolina laddu), and kuchida kadubu (steamed dumplings stuffed with coconut and jaggery), my failed attempts at mal pua or Labong Latika complete the dessert spread. 

A lot of south Indian muslim cuisine, a measurable spread of Persian roots and a touch of Brahmin fare. That is the Eid spread in my household. Every year.

And my world seemed content in its place.

Not much different this year either. Let me take credit where it is due. No need to be modest. Main course, sides, desserts: all checked. By 12 sharp. Ahem! 

Well.

The little nephews and nieces running around in their new sherwanis, jumping off the sofa onto the glass centre table to our shrieks, a spilt glass of coke and a forgotten cup of tea.  In laws of all shades: brother-, sister-, mom- and father, friends and their kids milling around the table.

A medley of all ages, cultures, languages and a laugh riot. Sans this, the mutton lacked its dum and chicken its flavour.  

Hope Eid ul Adha is covid free.

(Written in 2020)