Eid Mubarak.

We'd run up the wooden stairs hand in hand until the last floor of the 3 storeyed building, and slowly peek inside the ajarred door. He would be sitting there as always- on the red and green mosaic carpet spread across the floor,a grim face but with a prayer always on his lips.

"Salaam Alaikum Dadajaan"

"As-salaam alaikum" would be the prompt grunt back

"Eid mubarak" while kissing his hand in respect.

We looked for dadijaan's warm smiling face, her head poked into the room almost when she heared our greetings. "Eid Mubarak!" with kisses on both her cheeks, she'd lead the way to the kitchen where she had been preparing the food since 3 days even during her rozas.

Some people like sheer korma hot, some like it cold-I cant decide which one I prefer, so I simply would have two bowls. First the hot one and then I'd make my way to the fridge and take a huge helping of cold sheer korma. Like every grandmother who likes to see children relish their cooking, I was dadijaan's pet; her eyes would light up watching me clean sweep the bowl.

Dadajaan would enter the room, a few times I almost thought (though not sure) I saw a gleam in his eyes watching us all huddled on the floor with a large bowl of sheer korma in the centre. He would give us Eidiya (Eid money) and say 'the greatest joy one can derive from money-is by giving it away'. The golawala seemed the perfect person to give it away to at that age.

Looking back, it is the one of the wisest thing someone has said to me. On this Eid day, I will do just as you told me as a child and I know if youre watching me from above-your eyes will light up.

Eid Mubarak.