A celebration of different kind.
Aidilfitri promotes gaiety from the gaudy colours of elaborate costumes, guilty meals that will imprison you at the gym for weeks and an orchestra of fireworks enough to move you from your seat. Some are however immuned to these festive contagion.
I have nothing against house visits, soul cleansing by offering ‘annual’ forgiveness, flirting with the mak cik’s daughter wearing white kebaya, or the like of tying a firecracker to a toad. But it made raya sound shallow.
Before someone wages a jihad against my resignation from this merry occasion, I would like to state that I only missed 2 days of fasting. Therefore my indifference for the month of Syawal must not be construed as a punishment for being unworthy to this victory celebration.
Visiting dad’s grave was however something to look forward to and was a looming reminder of our impending death. Now let’s get off the tangent of morbid sentiments, as I discovered something during the recital of surah yassin and pouring water on his tombstone. (Sorry Abah it wasn’t your favourite Evian mineral water)
Something in the way mama sat on the mat, A-a’s melodious tone of reciting the surah, Ayong’s comical standing position, and Abang Idris searching for Tok and Tok Wan’s tomb showed me the meaning of raya. It is about honouring your loved ones.
I may have to grow out of my juvenile endeavours sooner but perhaps my youth could have not found a better trade than the love which need not any help from Cupid.
Holding hands with a beautiful girl around town to raya open houses would have been a thrill in the past. Nowadays giving foot massages to mama and ayong on raya evenings lets my fine hands serve a higher purpose.