Eid greetings to all, dear readers. Eid ul-Fitr marks the culmination of Ramzan, the month-long period of fasting, spiritual reflection, and increased devotion for Muslims.
I find festival stories interesting for what they try to communicate and, above all, how they’re told. Most of the ones I’ve read are in English about Christmas. Many Western writers have narrated the most charming Christmas stories without being didactic, be it Charles Dickens, Hans Christian Andersen, or Agatha Christie. It’s long been a personal ritual of mine to re-read old favourites around Christmas. So, I wondered—are there any stories about Eid?
The only famous short story I could think of was in Hindi by Munshi Premchand. Titled Idgah, it tells the story of Hamid, an orphan living with his grandmother, who goes to the Eid fair with only three paisa in his pocket. The narrative follows the child’s perspective as he sees other children having fun at the fair and buying sweets and treats. Finally, he makes his own choice—to buy a pair of tongs for his grandmother, who has none and burns her fingers while cooking. This story remains popular because it does not preach directly; instead, it lets the storytelling convey the values and emotions the writer wishes to share through the pure character of a little child. It’s available in English if you would like to read it.
I’ve also read a short story about Eid translated from Tamil to English in the Katha series of short story translations, though that was over thirty years ago. I recall only one interesting detail: Tamil Muslims also use the word nombu for ‘fast’, a term I had only ever associated with ancient Hindu festivals like KaradayanNombu, the Savitri Vrat of Tamil Nadu, celebrated in mid-March.
Eager to discover more, I searched online and found several children’s stories about Eid. Here are some summaries I found:
One Tamil story is about a young girl named Amani, who forgets to give her neighbour, Fathima, her share of Eid sweets. Amani feels guilty about it, but when she apologises to Fathima, the old lady reassures her that the thought counts more than the sweets.
Further exploration led me to children’s stories in English by Arab writers on portals like Eid Stories. One tale, Sameer the Sad Camel, sounded sweet, reminiscent of the Christmas carol Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The summary goes:
“Sameer, the camel, feels isolated and unimportant because the other camels mock him. Though they tease him, Sameer holds a secret—he can run faster than the wind. When a race is organised, Sameer gets the chance to prove his worth. He takes off with determination and wins the race to everyone’s surprise! From that day on, the other camels see him in a new light. Sameer is no longer sad but filled with pride and joy. This tale highlights the power of perseverance, self-belief, and the joy that comes from embracing one’s unique strengths.”
I also found this summary intriguing:
“Haleem and Kaleem are two boys who spend their days playing and sleeping, neglecting to help their mother or contribute to their village. With Eid approaching, the villagers are disappointed by the boys’ laziness. An old man challenges them to prove they are not lazy by doing something kind for Eid. Haleem and Kaleem try various ways to gather a gift, from planting beans to collecting eggs, but each effort fails. Finally, when the village faces a water shortage, the boys work together to find water, giving the villagers the best gift. This tale teaches the importance of hard work, kindness, and community.”
I then found another Arab children’s story that I could relate to all too well as an Indian. The summary says:
“Maitha is excited to wear her new shoes to Tarawih prayer. At the mosque, there are so many people and so many shoes! When the prayer finishes, Maitha rushes to the shoe rack, but, to her shock, her beautiful new shoes are missing. Where could they be? Find out what happens in this Ramadan tale.”
(Remember, Arabs say Ramadan, while Indians traditionally say Ramzan.)
I could relate to this story because my slippers have been stolen twice in Delhi with absolute religious impartiality—once at the shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya and once at Katyayani Mandir in Chattarpur, an area of South Delhi.
I like stories about sweets (which is a polite way of saying I like sweets). But also because my grandmother told me the most wonderful stories of my childhood. She loved reading and knew tales from many countries, besides, of course, Indian stories. One of my favourites from her large repertoire was from The Arabian Nights, in which two brothers separated by misfortune find each other again through a special sweet their mother makes.
So, naturally, I was drawn to the summary of this story:
“Umm Badoor makes the best lugaimat in the whole wide world. But she only makes them during Ramadan. When will the Ramadan moon appear? Everyone is waiting. Suddenly, Umm Badoor spots the moon in the sky and rolls up her sleeves. It’s time to make the most delicious lugaimat ever!”
Lugaimat (or luqaimat), called lokma in Greece, are little sweet dumplings made from a yeasted batter and usually served with sugar or date syrup. They are crisp on the outside and light and airy on the inside.
On this happy note, may there be peace and joy for all.