Posted: September 10, 2010 in Uncategorized

Festivals are awesome.

pic by 80-clock

I remember when I was younger and cousins and me would meet up after the festival at the end of Ramadan, and we’d share what we got this time.

New clothes and an insane amount of delicious food was the usual toast. But the moneh! Aunties and uncles give kids money on Eid. But in my family, there was always a conspiracy.

When I was 10 and my bro was 14, he’d get 100 bucks and I’d get 50. WHAY? Because older kids can use the money better, itseems. And I’d smile and get in the car, and call them hurtful donkeys as I waved at them from behind the glass.

Then as I got older, I thought, hey, bro gets more money as he got older, so woot. But I was wrong. As I got older, people were like, what do you need festival money for no? That’s just a baba ritual no?


Anyway, blatant anti-me agendas aside, I thought I’d educate the noobs on what we do on festival day. I wake up at 6am and take a shower whilst improvising with the shampoo bottle as my fake microphone and singing something along the lines of ‘Wake me up before you go-go’ or ‘Hit me babeh one more time.’

Then usually people go to the mosque or a huge sports ground for prayers. I go to the huge ground. And frolic away.


But we go to the ground and we chill a bit. The sky and the air is awesome  at 7. It’s all very fresh and nize, I get all one with nature and all that jazz. Then we pray and the guy who led the prayers usually has a little 10 minute talk on some sorta relevant thing. The bitter ones talk about stupid stuff like ‘omg they’re burnin qurans in america, wut outrage!111′ I mean, dude, today’s a festival, who cares about a bunch of crazyass zealots in another continent. But the cool ones usually talk about, ya know, togetherness and shizzle that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I have to admit that I am just assuming this from second hand narration though, since by the time the prayers are over I am totally distracted by the lone cow in the distance or the birdies or someone’s pudgy baby crawling across the prayer mat.

Pudgy babies ftw.

Then we’re all like, dude, eid mubarak. And hugging and high fiving and stuff. The process of getting up to walking out of that ground is about half hour, and with my mother, it’s double that, cuz she’s a social butterfly.
It’s cool though. I meet almost all the Muslims I’ve known in Colombo, from random girl in seventh grade to childhood friend all grown up and out of his diapers to my fistbumpin’ homies.  

Then we visit a coupla friends and families, and come home to have some visit us. And all along, there is FOOD. Gulab jam, jilaybee, cake, chocolates, toffees, pastries, cake, truffles, brownies.. did I mention CAKE? And man, can these women cook, friggin epic chefs I tell you. And they’re like, take take, take some more, you scrawny gurl. And I’m all, OKAY. :’)

Yesterday was gay, but somehow everything gets ungayified when you wake up on a day just meant for celebration. Mind over matter I guess. Eid mubarak, everybody! Await post festival treat!
Any excuse for a cupcake party rly.

  1. Jack Point says:

    Eid Mubarak!

  2. Santhoshi says:

    Eid Mubarak! Lovely post

  3. u4j10 says:

    Eid Mubarak!

  4. Sach says:

    Hey Eid Mubarak to you! Send those sweets here now!

  5. Me-shak says:

    Eid Mubarak 😀


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