The gaiety and glamour of Eid was hardly visible in Iqbal’s jhuggi as he woke up on Eid day. Just eight, Iqbal was still blissfully unaware of poverty’s pathetic ‘penalty’ and predicament. Dawn’s rays of hope and happiness, welcoming Eid, could hardly penetrate the little boy’s dungeon of darkness and despondency. The trauma in his tragic mind disturbed and perplexed him greatly. Was this really Eid for him?
Since Iqbal’s father departed from this woeful world two years back, life for his poor and loving widowed mother, Asma, and his doting older sister, Shahina, was a dismal and doleful struggle for existence from dawn to dusk.
After putting on his tattered shalwar and kurta, Iqbal came out of his jhuggi. Jubilant and joyful greetings of ‘Eid Mubarak’ everywhere were nothing but cacophony to Iqbal’s ears, used to, as they were, listening to insults and abuses from our ‘sacrosanct’ society. What significance had Eid for him, he wondered. Was Eid really meant for a pauper like him. His sad and sorrowful face gave a clear, though tacit, answer.
“Ammi, can’t I have a new shalwar and kurta and shoes for myself and a lovely shalwar and kameez for sister Shahina?” asked Iqbal hesitatingly. Asma tried her best to control the painful emotion, but in vain. Tears trickled down her hollow cheeks and skeletal frame. “Beta,” she replied softly, regaining her composure. “If your dear father would have been alive today, perhaps he could have purchased for you the things you want. But you, although a small boy, are intelligent and realize that as a maid in Begum Shagufta’s house, we just make enough to make ends meet and that too with your sister supplementing the family income with her tuitions. Inshallah, the day is bound to come when you will get a good job after completing your education. Then, you will be able to buy all the beautiful shalwar-kurtas and shoes you want.” But, alas! Was hope the only Eid gift for him on this auspicious day?
“Iqbal, get ready and let us go to Begum Shagufta’s house to wish her Eid Mubarak. Tell your sister to hurry up also.” As the ‘tearful’ triad entered Begum Shagufta’s palatial ‘palace’, Iqbal could not fail to notice the obesity of opulence which the plump and podgy Begum so effectively symbolized — the winsome world of wealth and wastefulness. He could not take his eyes off the fabulous furniture, the superb crystal chandeliers and the ‘artful abstract’ paintings, worth millions, but which neither Begum Shagufta nor the poor little Iqbal could frankly understand and appreciate. The table was piled high with a sumptuous lunch: full of twelve course mouth-watering dishes one could possibly think of. Her ‘elite’ guests, the ‘selected cream’ of ultra-modern, sophisticated, sycophantic and superfluous society, would soon be arriving. Begum Shagufta, bejewelled in her finest silk jora and ‘painted’ with the widest available ‘brush’ of puff and powder, was all set to celebrate Eid with her family and friends — an occasion full of pomp and ceremony to suit the daulatmand Begum, as if it was the sole prerogative of ‘haves’ only.
Iqbal, hesitatingly and a bit fearfully, sat on the elegant velvet sofa after wishing, respectfully, “Eid Mubarak” to the bountiful Begum. “You dirty boy,” roared Shagufta Begum, “How dare you sit on the sofa which the jamadar has just cleaned. Go and sit in the kitchen. The khansama will give you some food after the guests have left.”
“And you stupid woman,” shouted Begum Shagufta at Asma. You always want an excuse for a holiday. There is plenty of work today. Go and help the khansama and mop the drawing room. You poor people don’t want to work — you deserve poverty.” And adding insult to injury, she belched out more scorn. “And get your daughter married. She has already become an awara. I don’t want to see her here every now and then.”
Asma was stunned. Did the gluttonous Begum have any idea of her poor daughter’s immense dowry problem? How full of gratitude she had come to greet the graceless Begum. Was this also her Eid gift?
On the auspicious occasion of Eid, which will soon be with us, we should not forget what the Holy Prophet (Peace be upon him) said: “Truly none of you believes until he desires for his brother what he desires for himself.” And hasn’t the Mercy unto Mankind also said: “No true Muslim has the right to eat when his neighbour is hungry.” Is Eid only meant for the ‘self-chosen ones’ of the Almighty?
Our society today is suffering from tension and turmoil, unrest and unhappiness, as it has deviated from the path prescribed by the Almighty. Because we have shunned the fundamental values of life — compassion, love, kindness, justice, equity, tolerance, mercy, courtesy and humility. During the month of Zilhaj and the joyful day of Eid, we should ponder over these questions and try, in our small humble way, to make the forthcoming Eid a day of joy and jubilation for all sections of our society.
The gaiety and glamour of Eid was hardly visible in Iqbal’s jhuggi as he woke up on Eid day. Just eight, Iqbal was still blissfully unaware of poverty’s pathetic ‘penalty’ and predicament. Dawn’s rays of hope and happiness, welcoming Eid, could hardly penetrate the little boy’s dungeon of darkness and despondency. The trauma in his tragic mind disturbed and perplexed him greatly. Was this really Eid for him?
