I remembered the holidays of my childhood...
On every visit, there would be an allowance in an envelope or a handkerchief given. Our preference was clear; uncle, envelope!
We would wear the most beautiful clothes and shop for the holiday days in advance. The newly bought shoes would sleep with us on the other side of the bed; we would be so excited to wear them in the morning that we couldn't sit still.
On the morning of Eid, people used to get up early. Muslims, Christians, everyone breathed the same festive air. Especially if we turned on the TV in the morning and saw Kandalı, it was a joy...
We grew up in such a time. It turns out how lucky we were.
And then there were the gates of the feast... Those gates would not be locked.
Children would go from neighborhood to neighborhood, whichever door we knocked on, we would come out with a smile on our faces and either a candy or an allowance in our hands. The elders would ask how we were doing, the little ones would be patted on the head. Bayram was a little bit of neighborhood, a little bit of neighborliness.
Now I look at the children; how many of them know the taste of Eid? Eid candy starts at 170 TL per kilogram and chocolate at 350 TL. Baklava, which is indispensable for Eid tables, is in the range of 1500-2000 TL. The name of the feast is still the same, but it seems that the feast itself is now burning a hole in the pocket.
Especially in the Middle East... There, Eid has a name but no name. People are on migration routes, in the middle of wars.
And it seems that this cycle will continue to turn like this for a while.
Perhaps what we have lost the most is not the holiday itself, but the human warmth that makes it a holiday.
Because Eid was neither candy nor baklava... Eid was about people keeping their doors open to people.