This emergency middle of the night plan to “let’s have Eid tomorrow” wrecked quite a few plans.
Amongst many that included some bangles, a certain much revered sticky fingers Yakhni Pulao, also in the list was this Sivayein that not many even eat any more but is embedded in our hearts because it’s a traditional dessert from my nannhiaal hailing from Jaunpur, UP in India.
There’s no Eid ul Fitr without this one. At least not in my head and so my heart was a bit heavy for the past day or so. At around 11pm I exclaimed. “I think I’m gonna make Sivayein” to which husband immediately agreed because perhaps poor thing by now was too sick of my forlorn looks.
Nothing in the world would cause heartache to match one that lack of a good Qivaami would cause over Eid for this heart.
So here I am. Past midnight.
Eid day 2. Smelling Sivayein and gulping back tears.
Eid ain’t really Eid unless sporadically sprinkled with crying and then laughing in the middle like an idiot because I’d remember a joke!
