Seeking a bit of holiday cheer

Most things were easier when you were a kid. That includes the post-fasting month holiday Idul Fitri, better known here as Lebaran.

My earliest memories of the holiday are that it was quite a kick: the great joy of finally being allowed to eat during the day, delicious meals, new clothes and getting a heap of money from relatives.

Going through puberty, aside from the new clothes and the favorite dishes, the holiday suddenly felt a bit annoying as I had to meet cousins, nieces and nephews who ran around, screamed endlessly and, alas, even dared to pick on me because of my weight and my hair (listen, you brats: curly hair is hip right now!).

Uncles and aunts kept forgetting my age and year in school, while comparing every aspect of my being with their own children, and then decided that a junior high schooler like me was too old to get angpau (the holiday pocket money).

After junior high school, I was even too old to get new clothes from my parents. By then, however, I came to fully recognize the dysfunctional nature of my family, which I tried to dodge daily but had to face up to in all its scariness during the supposedly holiest day of all.

There are lots of blessings and togetherness that come with this holiday, but there is also a downside for some of us. These include mundane things, such as hospital emergency rooms crowded with people suffering from diarrhea and other stomach complaints from overindulging, plus the many sorry souls who suffer blisters due to trudging around in overly tight shoes.

But for me now, and also for some of my friends, the thought of Idul Fitri and going home to meet the folks makes me cringe.

I have been living on my own for almost four years now. So far, my all-work-no-play job as a journalist has been a convenient excuse not to go home, despite the fact that it is only a three-hour drive from Jakarta.

But when it comes to Idul Fitri, the conscience hits hard and I have to mudik (go home) with all the rest of them, despite all the stress it entails.

Bandung is near, yes, but finding a means of transportation to go there at Idul Fitri can be a headache. Standing in the proverbial long and winding queue for hours to get a prized train ticket, or competing with hundreds of people to squeeze onto a bus, only to be stuck in traffic jams all night -- been there, done that.

Going by car is not that comfortable, either, because whichever road you choose, you will be stuck in a traffic jam.

So, by the time I arrive in my not-so-lovely-anymore hometown, I am completely worn out. My mental state also starts to collapse as soon as I step into my parent's house, which makes the families in the movie American Beauty look normal.

The moment the extended family gathers together, I feel totally rotten inside, while praying hard that I will not end up like the motley crew with whom I share the same DNA.

I have found I am not alone in my Idul Fitri trepidation.

A girlfriend of mine is also reluctant to go home because that means having to face the repeated questions from her family about why she is not married yet although she is over 30.

Another friend of mine faces the same interrogation, dancing around the marriage question because he could not risk giving Aunt Ida a heart attack by owning up to the fact that he is gay.

I myself face the same question, which I always answer with a huge grin.

There is, however, one thing that I do long for at Lebaran: The taste of home cooking.

Yet it seems not everyone misses home cooking, as you will find fast-food restaurants, at least in my hometown, are crowded on the holiday. That's funny to me, because as much as I hate family gatherings, I don't want to go to McDonald's instead.

As Lebaran nears, I still haven't got that loving feeling that so many others seem to have. But I am going home anyway. When I do get home, I will at least fulfill one of the purposes of Idul Fitri by going through some serious contemplation.

Only the subject will be to requestion the tradition of going home during Idul Fitri -- and whether it is worth all the bother. Still, come what may, it seems the only option is to grin and bear it, because it's hard to say no to tradition.

-- Indira Husin