Some housekeeping:
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There is a calm the morning after Eid. I have usually taken the day off and I am snuggled into bed. It somehow feels like a Sunday, as though there should be no guilt felt for picking up a book and daydreaming myself into a cloud by midday.
As I walk slovenly downstairs, I am greeted with leftover gur-handesh alongside the usual pot of Earl Grey. There is a waft of cleaning supplies stuck to the tiled floors after tidying up last night’s familiar chaos.
Most people enjoy Eid morning. It sets the day apart. The pandemonium in our homes as we all wake up early to get to the Eid prayer at the mosque. Watching Muslims from nearby streets pour out of houses, like our siblings-in-faith who have completed their pilgrimage to Mecca. We are all walking in the same direction.
There is oud and fresh perfume in the air. A growing sea of thobes accompanying fresh trainers. Simple abayas, wraps and cotton shalwar kameezes are worn, before the real Eid outfit later that day. Children in bite-sized traditional clothing can make anyone feel broody. There is a hum in the air. Passerbys notice that Something Is Happening Here Today.
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