As an international student in the U.S.A., I usually talk with my mother twice a day. Nowadays, she has started enquiring about my preparations for Eid. I would not tell her anything about it. I was about to visit Bangladesh this Eid. My mother bought a beautiful black dress for me. The whole family planned so many things regarding the visit. But then the war between Iran and the U.S.A. happened, and I couldn’t risk the future of my studies. So, I cancelled my ticket.
Now, intellectuals and scholars are unravelling multiple meanings associated with the U.S.-Iran war. There are so many tremendous political analyses and explanations of this war that can contribute significantly to the field of knowledge. But for me, this war refers to a cancelled ticket and a postponed celebration — the celebration of Eid. As a PhD student in Anthropology, I know I am being naïve and extremely self-centred. While millions of lives are at stake, why would I grieve over this small inconvenience? Most likely, the reason is that this visit would rejuvenate me after the isolated life I have been leading here in this ‘dream’ country.
The U.S.A. is undeniably considered one of the most preferred destinations for many people around the world. And each year, many students from Bangladesh increasingly come here to build a new life. The inclusivity and opportunities that the higher education programmes of this country offer to underprivileged young minds are truly unique. While many countries somehow restrict funding opportunities for university faculty members, this country is open to young people who have nothing but a creative mind. So, young people come here, spend most of their time studying, and build different types of skills that will be useful in their research.
But does this scenario completely capture the lived experiences of international students? The answer would be no. The tragic incident involving Zamil Limon and Nahida Bristy clearly indicates another dimension of the picture. In most cases, young people who come here to study from developing countries are forced to lead their lives in a single room in a shared apartment. They will obviously receive a certain amount of stipend, but it will be highly insufficient for renting a studio apartment because they come from developing countries and need to save something for their future! I guess the meagre stipends in PhD programmes are quite common around the world, but they hit hard for international students from developing countries who do not have any stable career prospects. So, there we are, confining ourselves to a single room in a shared apartment while tolerating the tantrums of other roommates because of our accents or food. I am no exception to this.
However, wouldn’t I celebrate my Eid? Of course, I would, in my own way. I would buy some frozen beef and 'chotpotir boot' to make some deshi curries for my solitary Eid celebration. These preparations always bring back memories of home.
Generally, the animal reserved for sacrifice is central to Eid al-Adha in Bangladesh. People spend a lot of time taking care of these animals. On Eid day, they tend to spend their time sacrificing the animal, redistributing the meat among different classes of people, and cooking meals. The women in the family are mostly responsible for storing food and cooking meals. It’s usually a huge task. But the unique situation in my family provided us with some flexibility regarding these hard and fast rules.
Our Qurbani is generally performed in our village. However, my mother moved to Dhaka with us for our education — a decision that shaped the course of my life and brought me to where I am today. Since the sacrifice took place in the village, our share of the meat would usually arrive at our home in the evening after the redistribution. When I was younger, I used to feel frustrated by this arrangement. I remember feeling embarrassed when beggars came asking for meat and we had none to give at that moment. Later, though, I came to see that this flexibility also allowed us to celebrate Eid in a different way.
When we cross geographical borders, we think of ourselves as global citizens. Little did we understand how limited the scope could be for racialised subjects to become global citizens. Because borders sometimes transcend their geographical boundaries and become embodied in the bodies of racialised subjects.
In the morning, we would prepare different items for breakfast. As I was always fond of spicy foods, I used to make chotpoti for the family, and my mother used to rebuke me for preparing this dish because it could be detrimental to the stomach during Eid. Her instincts were always right in this regard! But I never stopped preparing this dish. We also used to clean and decorate the house. Then we would prepare delicious chicken curry for lunch. My mother used to make a special kind of Jhal (spicy) Roast. I do not know why, but I think I am the motivation behind the invention of this specific dish. I have always been picky about my food, and it is hard for me to digest any food without a large amount of spice, no matter how delicious it is. So, my mother regularly kept discovering spicy versions of every dish. I know she would cook all the meals this Eid too and cry a little for us. Women in our country who rebel against society are forced to lead a life with a certain kind of loneliness. We, the mother and daughter, share this kind of loneliness. But we never stopped living our lives.
However, I need to be conscious of the strong aroma that my deshi spices may create. Sometimes, the smell of South Asian cuisine can be overpowering for people from other nationalities. When we cross geographical borders, we think of ourselves as global citizens. Little did we understand how limited the scope could be for racialised subjects to become global citizens. Because borders sometimes transcend their geographical boundaries and become embodied in the bodies of racialised subjects (Khosravi, 2010). And they have to fight a battle against these sorts of invisible borders throughout their lives. But it provides you with a new meaning and purpose in life too: embracing every challenge and enjoying every day to the fullest.
So, I would wear a traditional red dress, which is in my suitcase now. I do not like the colour red. But it is the only traditional dress I have there now. Then I would put some kohl in my eyes. I know these small acts would give me the confidence to spend this Eid in a beautiful, isolated way.
So, I would wear a traditional red dress — the one sitting in my suitcase now. I do not particularly like the colour red, but it is the only traditional outfit I have with me at the moment. I would put a little kohl around my eyes too. I know these small rituals would give me the confidence to embrace this Eid in its own quiet, beautiful way.
In Reno, I make it a habit to step outside and walk around the campus every afternoon, and Eid would not interrupt that routine. I would also reach out to some of my favourite Bangladeshi people because I know they would always be there for me in difficult moments. But, as usual, I would keep some distance from the community here because, like many South Asian communities, the Bangladeshi community often carries patriarchy with it wherever it goes.
I know that one day I will look back on this solitary Eid and whisper to myself, “We did it. We made a meaningful life out of solitude.”
Aditi Sharif is a PhD student in Cultural Anthropology at the University of Nevada, Reno. She can be reached at [email protected]
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