I am facing a festival for the second time without my mom.
Mom was not with me this Ramadan. However, I will just say that I am not so sad. Because this time, Mommy celebrated her first Ramadan festival with her spouse in Istanbul. Even though the city was paralyzed all over due to the lockdown at the time, I felt so happy when she called us on the video call. She asked us to wake up early the next morning, take a shower and wear colorful dresses. That enthusiasm was enough for me to celebrate the next day of Ramadan in Srilanka.
As soon as Ramadan fasting started, I was sad that mom wasn’t here with me. I wondered how we were going to buy new clothes for the festival and celebrate it without her. But this time everything happened without a hitch. My grandmother, little brother Eid and I went to Colombo. I usually go to the clothing store in Pelawatta and buy clothes. Mommy kept in touch with us on the phone, while she was at home in Istanbul. We chose the clothes through the video call. It was a completely different experience. She always has more trust in me. I thought she was careful in not letting me think that nothing would be better without her.
But I have the experience of one such festival. It was just after the Easter bombings in 2019, that I was hastily relocated to India. A Haj festival ensued when I was at the hostel. Combined with a government holiday, a Saturday and Sunday, it has become a long Hajj vacation. Mommy arranged for me to spend that holiday at her friend’s house.
I already know those friends who lived in Nagercoil. I have previously stayed with Mommy at their home. But staying there without Mommy with them was so uncomfortable for me. They are vegetarians. I was disgusted with the hostel food and longed for meat. My wish did not come true, these people would not feed me well at home with meat. I complained to my mom about this.
She said, “They do not eat meat, they are Brahmins.”
Diya
“If they do not eat, I will eat. Why they can’t give it to me? ”I argued over the phone with my mom. “They never cook meat at home,” Mommy angrily hung up at once.
I did not understand the food problem they had inside the house, as we often ate outside when I stayed at this same place with mummy. Their house will always be neat and tidy. That was what kind of scared me. I had a fear that I would somehow drown in the order and beauty of that house. I wonder why they are so organized. Everything in that house happens on time. I don’t like any of those orders. But they took very good care of me. I could not understand them and was not able to stick with them.
The grandmother in that house took very good care of me and she will play with me in evenings such as scrabble. But the other aunt in the house kept teasing me, “Why don’t you bring books to study?” I was not in the mood to study. And I’m leaving my mother and home for the first time and staying with new people for the first time. But that Aunty was complaining about me on WhatsApp to my mother like “he doesn’t read”, “he doesn’t bring books to study”, “he watches TV all the time”, “he left the eyewear you bought him in the hostel”, “he’s not responsible”.
I even had a mild fever then. I had the flu three times after Mommy dropped me off at the school hostel. I never even had a fever before that. I came down with a fever when I came to this home for the Haj holidays. The grandmother in the house took me to the doctor and brought me the medicine. She was very careful in giving them on time and cared for me well. Although I was able to talk to my Mommy every day when I thought about it, I was so disappointed and sad that she was not near me. Aunt’s complaints about me made me even more bored.
Only one of the six days I was there, they took me to the hotel for a meal outside and arranged to eat grilled chicken. Aunty dropped me up and stood outside until I finished eating.
At my mummy’s request, she took me to the ‘Pothys’ and the first time I bought a dress for myself without Mummy. I had no idea of the Hajj festival the next day or the excitement of buying new clothes. I was confused and scared. I did everything to satisfy my mother and her request. I put on new clothes just to show Mommy the next day. I talked to her on a video call. It was the most stressful day of my life. The reason for that is another incident that took place that day.
My mom’s friend; the aunty of the house had made an arrangement for me to celebrate the Hajj festival. “These are our Muslim family friends. You can go with them to their home to celebrate Haj.” She introduced me as a Muslim boy, and I was really shocked when she said, “Go with them.”
I thought she had never talked to my mother about this arrangement. Because my Mummy never mentioned such an arrangement to me. I was annoyed when that Aunty told me to go with a family that I was unfamiliar with. How can I go with strangers and celebrate a festival?
I said no at first. She could not bear what I refused in front of her friends. However, she told, “there you will get biryani and you can celebrate the Hajj”, to convince me.
I like biryani so much. But even the word biryani that day evoked hatred.
Can’t we buy and eat biryani at a hotel?
I had so many questions to ask. But I could not ask any questions.
She was bent on sending me with the unknowns. She also believed that it was a good thing to do for me. She didn’t think a bit about me or my emotions.
I was sent away with those strangers. They had children my age. But I didn’t like to talk to anyone. I had breakfast at their house. I still don’t remember what I had. I felt so frustrated and disrespectful. I could not stay in that house until the afternoon. I kept pressing on the phone all day asking my mom to arrange for me to be taken to the school hostel somehow.
At mummy’s request, I got biryani from another non-Muslim friend of hers in Nagarcoil.
On that day, Mommy did not eat biryani and did not celebrate the Hajj festival. Later I came to know that she did not cook any food even on that day at home. It must have been the first Hajj when she did not eat food. Such a miserable Hajj festival should never come into our lives again.
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Author
Diya Al Badhri
My name is Diya Al Badhri. I was born in Sri Lanka on July 30, 2008. We settled in India in 2012 when I was three and a half years old. We lived in Chennai till 2016. That’s where I started my elementary education. My first guru was my mother who was a single mother. She and I have made numerous trips, trekking, and hiking. In 2016 I returned to Sri Lanka. I continued my studies in Colombo. Then again in 2019, the circumstances forced me to stay in a hostel in India. I returned to Sri Lanka in 2020 due to Covid -19. I am learning from the flow of such an uncertain life.
