THE CHUT-PATA DAISEE COLUMN ON EID AND EID JOARAS by Saba Ansari
Bhai, Eid is just around the corner and I STILL don’t have an Eid kaa joara.
For one thing , chic , with-it, stylish and peyarey shalvaar suits are so
hard to come by when you’re in the States.... and for another, the’re so
atrociously priced that the mere sight of the price tag makes my hubby
dear gasp and hold on to his precious wallet like his life depended on it.
“Why?” is always his initial query when I’m thinking of investing in some
treat.
“Why what?” I ask, without batting an eyelid
“Why wear new clothes? You already have enough to dress the entire community
on Eid day.”
“But a new joara is a tradition on Eid....” I protest
“Not for that price it isn’t. What a rip-off” he continues
And unbelievably I agree. Of course it’s a rip-off. But do I have a
choice? And then, baat waheen aa ke reh gaee... what to wear on Eid! After
all, the whole clan of Pakistani-Indian Muslims will be decked up and phir
upnee laaj bhee to rakhnee hai. What will they all say? I’ll be labeled a
cheap-skate!
In sheer desperation, I dial the number to my mother in Pakistan and beg her
to send me something decent to wear.
“How am I going to send it baita? Nobody we know is going to the States. Even
Pinky auntys deyvars’ salees’ husbands’ chacha-zaad-bhai left last week.”
“I don’t care ” I scream, the details of the rishtey making me nervous “just
send it through UPS, Fed-Ex, whatever.”
“You mean DHL the joara? but you said you wanted bead work ,” Ammi exclaimed
“So?” I ask
“Baita... the moti are so naazuk.. they might all fall off with such rough
handling,” she said
“Oh for crying out loud,” I scream “just write FRAGILE- Handle with care on
the package.”
“OK let me ask your abbu if they do that here in Pakistan,” she emphasized
“But Ammi!” I yelled “of course they do! Please don’t act so paindoo.”
“That’s the whole thing,” she said “You people live there a while a then
turn around and call us paindoo... how could you say that to your own
mother..” her voice trailed into a sob...
Uh-oh, did I say something wrong... “Please Ammi, I didn’t mean that,” more
sobs...Gosh, all I need is one lousy joara... why do I have to go through
such a hassle? So I take a deep breath and say “OK Ammi, confirm it with
Abbu,” and she does, just like she does with everything else, and then
reassures me that it’ll be done. Whew! What a relief.
“Now,” she continues,” what color should it be?”
“Ammi we’ve been talking for 35 minutes. This is an LDC, remember?” I said
“What’s that?” Ammi responded, amazed
“Long distance call. So just choose a color and send it over ... take Bubbly
aunty along for a mashwara”
“But baita we all know how fussy you are. You won’t wear it if it’s not the
right shade of the right color.”
“I will”
“You won’t”
“I will”
“Just pick a color and tell me. How about the dusty rose like the hyacinth
your father planted once?” she asked
“Ammi, how am I supposed to remember that?” I shouted
“OK then how about emerald green?” she continued
“I have too many emerald greens” I said
“Then the
asmaanee blue like Sherry auntys’ new car... that’s a pretty color,” she
insisted
“You expect me to remember?” I shrieked
“Baita what has America done to your memory?”
“Helped erase some irrelevant details like Sherry aunty and other such snobs”
I retorted
“Oh how awful! You know she always asks about you.”
“Frankly Ammi, I don’t see why you still meet her,” I continued
“Now let’s not even get into that. Coming back to colors, how about cherry
red?” Ammi said
“No, it’ll be too warm for that, I prefer reds in winters,” I sighed,
obviously bored by now
“Pastels?” she said
“No- too insipid”
“Brown?”
“Too earthy”
“Gray?”
“Too oldie”
“White?”
“Too afsanvee”
“How about the unusual crisp green like our cordless phone? Speaking of
phones, baita, let me remind you this time that it’s an LDC so hurry up and
make up your mind,” Ammi said
“Oh no!” I screamed, “I totally forgot .. it’s been over an hour now...
hubbys gonna kill me if he’s kind. Khuda hafiz.”
There I sat, my hand clutching my head in relentless pity.
“Are you thinking of creating a new Pakistan?”
“Huh?” I jumped at my husbands’ voice
“Why the Allama Iqbal pose?” he asked
“Well I just finished talking to Ammi. Do you think I can call in for a
credit?”
“Why did you have a bad one minute connection?” he asked
“No... I had a bad 60 minute connection trying to save money” I said,
expecting him to believe me (about the saving money part).
And actually, I had gone and spent much more on the ‘made in Pakistan’ Eid ka
joara just to save myself from a daisee American rip-off! What an ultimate
daisee blunder!