Eid Tales

I am long overdue for my hari raya stories, I know. School took off at full speed as soon as the break (which I had enjoyed only barely) was over. In addition, as much as the school works consume my time, and drain me of my energy to pursue personal cause - I am fully intoxicated by it.

Driven, single-minded, determined, workaholic, or simply, textbook - I rejoice in each and every adjective.

To cut a long story short, Ramadhan to me was short and far from being exemplary throughout my Muslim years. Eid, however, although short-lived, was well-spent.

I spent two full days cooking. My housemates had generously helped with the cutting of various ingredients, for we are unfortunately devoid of any blender. Thankfully, the chicken rendang turned out perfectly. We even made nasi impit the old-way. The kuah lodeh was a bit tricky, as too many stuffs had overloaded the pot, but the dried shrimps saved the taste and it was finished to the last bits.

The best part would be, of course, the myriad of guests which came to the house. A classmate I am most fond of, came with her husband and brought with her a sumptuous Indian dish. Another classmate from Massachusetts arrived with his girlfriend from Japan, bringing with him a panna cotta and his housemate, who happens to be my jovial classmate from London.

My father’s long-time friend came with his wife too, all the way from Campbeltown (Australia, not Scotland). In the dining table he shared with us his stories of my father, the unseen, the unheard of. Together the husband and wife had given us numerous advices on places to see, events to join and countries to visit.

The food, the conversation, and the companions made up my day, and I am myself amazed at the range of social circles I had accumulated. Not even in my dreams had I thought I would get to where I was, and yet there I was, there I am.