Once a year, Bollywood’s best and brightest stars attend a feast for the ages. What went down at this year’s party, where Shah Rukh was absent, Sallu was present, and Bobby Deol made a return to action?
I wear my religion on my sleeve – actually more like on my head in the form of a headscarf. And this happens to be a not-so-good time to be a practising Muslim.
The Eids of my childhood weren’t spectacular or unforgettable, but they are still imprinted in my memory because at that time, the day didn’t exist as an excuse to impress others. Unfortunately, today, Eid has been reduced to a routine.
In most other places, people welcome Ramzan by hanging lanterns on their windows or lighting up the streets. But in Mumbai’s Byculla, children welcome the holy month by fishing for a battered old pair of badminton racquet and as many shuttlecocks as they can lay their hands on.
Every Eid begins with Amma waking you up early to help her in the kitchen. Abba refuses to give you Eidi as you are an “independent adult”. The rest of the day is spent watching Eid transmissions on TV and eating mutton pilaf, instead of the chicken biryani you asked Amma to prepare.
The “alien Arabisation” versus Hindustani-Sufiani-Persian-essence debate on the correct way for Indians to pronounce the name of the holy month of Ramadan (Ramzan?) can be put to rest. I tell you exactly how. And it’s very easy.
Spare a thought for the Delhi bartender, that poor sod in charge of making your shots. This is the guy in the line of fire, when trigger-happy Dilliwalas set out to party.