Nobody understood what I wanted to have, today. This time, I hugged my soul and consoled it. We lay down on the grass in each other's company. We wanted to quench the thirst of our tongues that wanted to speak. We looked around to fill up the hunger of our starved eyes to see what they wanted to see. We lay down on the grass of this foreign land this time and screamed in silence:
Yeh kesi Eid hai?
This time, I felt out of place.
This time, I searched for faces.
This time, I yearned to hear Eid Mubarak.
This time, I craved to say Khair Mubarak.
A horde of human beings swarmed around me but all I could see in their eyes was estrangement.
But, the sky wasn't a stranger to me. The trees have been my friends for a very long time. The sun came out and showered down it's golden light just like it's been doing for me, every morning. It's just that, this Eid, in lieu of a swaying dupatta, the two strings of my hoodie jiggled as I walked. This time, the grass was my carpet, the sky was my roof, and the trees were my hosts. Today, silence was my talk and air was my food. Instead of people, the wind hugged me three times, today. This time, I heard the rustling of dry autumn leaves, in lieu of the tinkling bangles.
This time, the dewdrops made a pattern on my palm and I smelled mud on my hand instead of henna.
And to all of the nature around me, the only thing that established a rapport with me on this special day, I whispered: