I have always loved festivals – the colours, the warmth, the feeling of togetherness. My childhood and teenage years were filled with the splendour of celebrations, where every festival was a grand affair with family, food, and laughter. But as life moved forward, so did my understanding of what it means to celebrate.

I have built my life and career the way I wanted, which has helped me stand on my own feet even when there was no one to support me. Though I have never lacked support, I have also learned to be alone, while never distancing myself from the institution of family. But Eid, for me, has come to mean something deeper than nostalgia; it is about resilience, about finding joy in whatever life offers, and about extending that joy to others.

People often assume that a festival must be celebrated a certain way… that without a crowd, it lacks meaning. But is that really true? Can’t one celebrate Eid alone and still feel its spirit? I have spent some many festivals away from family, sometimes with friends, sometimes in solitude. And I have learned that joy is not about numbers but about presence. A servant who helps you daily, a neighbour who knocks on your door, or a chance encounter with a stranger, anyone can become a part of your celebration. Happiness is not something we receive; it is something we create and give as well.

I once read that behind every strong, independent woman lies a broken little girl who had to learn how to get back up and never depend on anyone. I can say with certainty that behind every fierce, resilient woman lies a heavy story, a story of struggles endured alone, of battles fought without backup, of nights spent wondering if she would ever find her place. And yet, she rises.

That is why festivals like Eid remind me not just of the warmth of family and faith, but of my own strength. They remind me that I have learned to carve out joy from the most unexpected places, to build a life on my own terms, and to stand tall even when the world tries to bend me.

Yet, even as I embrace my own journey, I cannot ignore the world around me. The joy of Eid feels incomplete when I see suffering. My heart trembles at the images of Palestinians praying outside demolished mosques, marking Eid amidst the rubble. The news of children killed in attacks, of families torn apart, is a painful reminder that peace is still a distant dream for many. How can one truly celebrate when, in another part of the world, a mother grieves for her child on the very day meant for joy? But I believe there is light at the end of the tunnel… at least now; there is talk of ceasefire.

Closer to home, the realities of life intrude upon festivities. The controversy surrounding the film Empuraan in Kerala, the communal and political tensions it sparked, and the struggles of ASHA workers protesting for better wages… all these highlight that Eid, or any festival, does not exist in a vacuum. It must be a time to reflect, to extend empathy, to stand for justice. A festival is not just about dressing up and feasting; it is about cultivating a culture of kindness, about lifting others up even as we celebrate.

I have learned that strength is not about having everything perfectly aligned; it is about finding happiness despite the imperfections. It is not about grandeur but about gratitude. It is about the ability to find joy in simplicity, about sharing what we have, even if it is just a small prayer for someone in pain. We must live in the moment to find happiness.

We often cling to the past,the joint family gatherings, the way things used to be. But life moves forward, and we must live in the present with sincerity. Nostalgia is beautiful, but it should not hold us back. Festivals are not about recreating the past; they are about embracing the now. When you can order your feast for any occasion, you should not repeat the same rhetoric of the joys of homemade food alone. Yes, homemade food is wonderful, but we must acknowledge the changing circumstances as well.

Now you know why I choose to celebrate this Eid in my own way. I choose to be happy, to spread happiness. I choose to redefine what a festival means – not in terms of how many people surround me, but in the depth of my joy, in the sincerity of my prayers, in the warmth of my giving. And in doing so, I know that I am truly honouring the spirit of Eid. If I am happy in this moment, I will be happy in every moment!