This year I did Eid a bit differently. There were the usual traditions of Eid prayer at Parramatta Mosque, followed by family breakfast at Frankie B’s and then uninterrupted family time after the mandatory Eid nap at noon at the Ali household. But there were also delightful spreads of Bengali sweets and snacks available at all Bengali homes, part of the Eid house hopping tradition the Chowdhury household partakes in. 

My first Eid as a married woman meant I got to experience firsthand how Eid is done differently (although knowing that a variety of Eid celebrations and traditions exist is common, experiencing it is a whole other ball game). It was a wonderful lesson and reminder about the diversity in not only South Asian expressions of community, food and celebration but also of the magnificent ways in which components of South Asian culture have been interwoven with the Islamic faith and traditions.

The family I grew up in, the Ali home, is more focused on creating memories within our little tight-knit unit and either bonding through the busy lunch and dinner periods at our family restaurant, Hyderabad House, or taking a day trip to one of the many beautiful spots in and around Sydney. The Chowdhury home, however, comes alive with Bengali folk songs that capture the joy palpable in Muslim circles upon Eid’s arrival, followed by visiting the homes of other close relatives, with locations spanning from Glenfield to homes in Bella Vista. As someone who loves exploring what and how a communal celebration – such as Eid – is manifested in different ways, I thought capturing the day in the form of a photo essay would be a great tribute to the two families to whom I now belong. 

Eid in the Ali Household: Brekkie, Naps & Long Drives 

My maternal grandmother, Nanu, is currently visiting from Hyderabad, India and those who have lived in the Hyderabadi climate know that Australian summers are nothing compared to the heat of India… but the slightest Australian chill? It’s a cold nightmare.

Mum, Rahath, Nanu and I finished up our prayers at home while Dad, Furqan and Yousuf (pictured left to right) attended Eid prayer in the park. 

From my brother’s description, the Eid morning air was equally infused with despair and joy; despair at the ongoing genocide faced by Palestinians but also gratefulness that God had granted everyone present another opportunity to complete Ramadan. 

Prayers were followed by breakfast at Frankie B’s located on Church Street, Parramatta. This was Nanu’s first Eid with us in over a decade, and her first Eid ever with her grandson-in-law, Furqan. Now living separately from my family, this breakfast was a nostalgic walk down memory lane. For as long as I can remember, trying new places and new foods has been an integral part of our family tradition on Eid. Our breakfasts have also been a space for my family and I to reflect on what Ramadan has done for us while also allowing us to slip into our designated roles of parent, sibling, child with no pressure to be anyone else. Fighting over who would have the last spoon of the creamy chicken pasta, Yousuf and I teaming up (with Furqan now joining us) to tease Rahath about some inane thing she did while getting ready that morning and feeling our bellies and faces ache from laughing and smiling is essential to the Ali Eid. 

Furqan and I parted ways with my family at around 12pm that day. However, the fun continued. My family hopped into their trusty champagne coloured Tarago and decided to take a scenic drive to the Central Coast. Some of my family’s favourite snacks such as Boondi, Khatta Meetha and Patisa were taken along for the ride. My family stopped off at lookouts and spent time praying the late afternoon prayer, Asr, in a park. Long drives are another staple of Ali family bonding. Whether those drives take place late at night after the restaurant has closed for business or spontaneous ones such as the one taken this Eid, they are central to discussing all things big and small, serious and hilarious. We were also aware more than ever this year that an Eid like this may never be possible again – an Eid with Nanu, our last surviving grandparent, meant that we had to take as much time available to us to make memories. 

Eid at the Chowdhurys: Food Galore & House Hopping 

Furqan’s parents hosted their Eid open house between the time slot of 2-5pm but in accordance with Desi time, the house was open for guests and mingling from 1.30-7.30pm. 

Eid at my in-laws’ house is more high energy. Ten different conversations are happening at once, food is being monitored, served and heated, and pictures have to be taken to document all the new Desi garments that have been carefully hand picked for Eid. Conversations at my in-laws ranged from the struggles of being the eldest child, to why Eid is celebrated on different days (and the more contentious – who is REALLY right) and how everyone’s stomach was one more morsel away from bursting.

There was something heartwarming about squeezing myself in between friends to make space for more guests as they arrived. There was childlike happiness in sharing sweets from one plate and agreeing to try new foods if the others did. I also witnessed the joy on Ma’s and Baba’s (Furqan’s parents) faces as they filled plates for aunties, uncles, children, grandparents and their booming laughter as they dined and reminisced about undergraduate days in Bangladesh and postgraduate shenanigans in Thailand. 

And making sure there is photographic evidence of our very nice Eid outfits was a must at the Chowdhurys. The best part about it is how we got the older people involved to take our photos and in turn took their photos. Eid at the Chowdhurys was a different way to remind myself that time with the people around is limited, and frankly we’re not guaranteed the next Eid with them. It wasn’t necessarily a morbid or sad realisation, but more so a realistic one.

As someone who is autistic and finds lots of socialising draining, this Eid was a testament to the necessity of that socialising. Comparing mehndi designs and asking “I love your jhumkas! Where’d you get them from?” is one of the many ways in which the Chowdhury family maintains relations and fosters community within their social circles. Food and feeding guests, as is evident from nearly all South Asian traditions and celebrations, also forms a big part of Eid for many South Asian Muslims. It was a delight to witness how the Chowdhury family thrives as its own unit amongst the broader Bengali community. 

Lina Ali is an Indian-Australian writer from Parramatta. She is currently completing her Honours thesis on postcolonial South Asian literature at the University of Sydney alongside completing a Bachelor of Islamic Studies at Charles Sturt University. Lina has been published with the Sydney Opera House, Meanjin Quarterly, SAARI Collective and SBS Voices. Her writing primarily explores the intersections between religion, culture, neurodiversity, and gender. You can follow her on LinkedIn here.

Top image source: Supplied/Lina Ali