The Day that was Eid.

Eid is a fairly typical, conventional affair where I come from. Kids beg for Eidi, grown ups distribute the crisp (and now extremely pathetic-looking) banknotes and there are the siwayyans (sweet vermicelli) which grace every table in Pakistan. There is no pardon for sleeping in or arriving late at Dadi Jan's place. There is no way in the world you can sheepishly pass up on the opporunity of getting the five-rupees that your DJ has been giving you for the past 25 years (no wait, she used to give us 2 rupees when we were younger), it'd break her heart and you'd end up looking like a jackass anyway. There is no way you can tell your mom you don't want to wear the glass bangles this time (oh the horror).

But it's fun. Eid is fun because you get to meet relatives you haven't met since the last Eid, you get to join in the merry-making that you probably don't like a lot but it's family and it's fun and heck, it's Eid. You can let a few lame jokes pass once a year.

But perhaps the terminus optimus was my end of the feud with Ali. How Eid-spirrity, eh? I was mad at him for being a jerk over something and he messaged this last night,

"By the way. Thank you for the suit. And remember if I don't say sorry or thank you out loud doesn't mean I don't mean it."

These boys.