In Indonesia, there's a tradition that is almost never missed during major religious holidays, especially Eid al-Fitr. This event is none other than family gatherings. Every holiday, particularly during Lebaran, train stations, bus terminals, and airports are always packed with travelers returning to their hometowns. On the roads, traffic jams are no longer an unusual sight. Everywhere, there's a noticeable increase in activity across almost all aspects of life, be it transportation, economy, and a host of other things. The goal is singular: to celebrate Eid with family in their hometowns.
This includes my own family, where family gatherings have become a tradition. Since long ago, my relatives have almost always gathered whenever Lebaran approached, including those living out of town. Especially when my grandmother was still alive.
That's why it was no surprise that the house was always bustling whenever Lebaran arrived. Relatives would come, especially my two uncles who lived in Bogor. And they certainly didn't come alone, but brought their wives and children, transforming the originally quiet house into a lively one.
Not to mention the arrival of my aunt who lived in Bandung. That's why the house was always lively whenever Lebaran arrived.
Automatically, whenever Lebaran approached, the activity at home always increased. Grandmother, aunts, uncles, and other family members wouldn't just sit idly by on this important day. Various activities could be seen throughout the house, whether it was cooking, painting the house, or redecorating. Regarding decoration, there's one particular thing that has never faded from my memory: I still vividly recall that the air on the night of Takbiran was always filled with the fragrance of tuberose flowers.
Indeed, back then in Subang, cut flower vendors were commonly found, especially towards the end of Ramadan. Inevitably, my family was among their customers, particularly for tuberose flowers. These white flowers, appearing in clusters at the end of long stems, would be placed in vases filled with water, their fragrant aroma spreading throughout the house every evening.
Not just tuberose, jasmine flowers also played a part in enlivening my memories of the Lebaran atmosphere back then. In fact, specifically for jasmine, its presence in the house wasn't limited to Lebaran. On other days, my grandmother would always pick jasmine flowers and place them in small bowls as a room freshener.
I don't know since when these tiny flowers grew in the yard, even until now. In fact, this plant, designated as the National Flower (Puspa Bangsa), is the only plant from my house's past that still survives. Other plants, even larger ones like rambutan, jackfruit, water guava, and soursop trees, have long since vanished, leaving the jasmine as the most loyal inhabitant of my yard.
Beyond flowers, another characteristic Lebaran decoration that was always present was ketupat. Indeed, it wasn't strictly a decoration, as ketupat, which is woven coconut leaves filled with rice, is part of the holiday feast.
However, this dish, popular as a holiday meal since the time of Sunan Kalijaga, is also firmly etched in my memory as a typical Lebaran decoration at my grandmother's house. Back then, several ketupat would be tied together into a single bunch and hung in various places. Especially around the dining area, where, after Eid prayers, these ketupat would transform into pieces on plates on the dining table, completing the meal with all family members.
Of course, accompanying dishes were also not forgotten, such as opor ayam (chicken in coconut milk), sambal goreng kentang (spicy fried potatoes), acar (pickles), and ase cabe (spicy stew). Often, rendang, gulai (curry), shrimp crackers, steak, or beef stew would also complement our dining table.
In addition, various snacks always enlivened the Lebaran atmosphere during my grandmother's time. Kastengels, nastar, and other assorted cookies, legacies of the colonial era, were always neatly arranged in rows of jars adorning the guest table, ready to welcome every guest who came to visit and strengthen family ties.
Jumping to the present day, the Lebaran atmosphere at home is certainly very different. Since Grandmother passed away in 2012, relatives no longer come to the house. Now, it's Mama and I, who still live in Grandmother's house, who have to visit relatives' homes during Lebaran.
This year's Lebaran was no exception.
As agreed upon a few days before the end of Ramadan, the family gathering would be held at Aunt Yuli's house in Bandung. Even then, not everyone would be present, as some relatives would stay in their respective homes and hold their own gatherings. That's why Aunt Yuli and Uncle Iman, as hosts, decided that the family gathering would be held on the second day of Lebaran. This way, relatives living out of town would have the opportunity to visit family and relatives in their respective cities before heading to Bandung.
And that's what we did. After a vibrant night filled with the echoes of takbir heard everywhere, Eid al-Fitr arrived, opening the month of Syawal with victory over the struggle to resist desires during Ramadan.
That morning couldn't be called quiet either, as the lively echoes of takbir continued. After Eid prayers at the mosque in front of the house, Mama and I were busy shaking hands with neighbors who also prayed at the mosque, which was the first mosque built in our residential complex. In an instant, the solemn atmosphere felt during the prayer and subsequent sermon immediately changed one hundred and eighty degrees after the sermon concluded.
The atmosphere immediately became lively with the sound of conversations heard everywhere. People milled about, looking for neighbors they hadn't yet exchanged apologies with. Mama and I were no exception, also moving around, exploring the rather spacious mosque. I lost count of how many times I shook hands with residents of the complex, many of whom, to be honest, I didn't even know.
Of course, this opportunity felt very special to me, as I could meet Ibu Juwita and Ibu Meti again, two teachers who had taught me in junior high school. Ibu Juwita, the Indonesian language teacher who is now very elderly, rarely leaves her house.
That's why, even before Ramadan, I had hoped to perform Eid prayers at the mosque in front of the house, hoping to meet Ibu Juwita there. And, unexpectedly, my wish came true. Alhamdulillah, Allah is indeed Most Gracious. My hope was granted, even though I had never told anyone about it.
Honestly, there's always a sense of emotion in my heart whenever I meet Ibu Juwita, who is also often called Ibu Kusbini. Perhaps this feeling arises because she was my teacher, but it could also be because she reminds me of Grandmother. Indeed, Ibu Juwita and Grandmother were among the senior residents in my complex, although Grandmother was, of course, more senior.
It was different with Ibu Meti. My former geography teacher is still relatively young, even younger than Mama. Compared to Ibu Juwita, who has lived in this complex since before I was born, Ibu Meti is still considered a new resident. She and her family only moved to our complex when I had already entered the world of visual impairment, in the 2000s. I still vividly remember being truly surprised and delighted when I heard that the new resident occupying the house at the end of the street was none other than my own junior high school teacher. To this day, she is still actively involved in religious study groups and mosque management. In fact, her husband now serves as the chairman of the mosque family council at the mosque in front of my house, named Masjid Miftahussa’adah.
After finishing exchanging apologies with the neighbors present at the mosque, we returned home. However, that certainly didn't mean the gathering was over.
After eating, we planned to go to the house of one of Mama's older sisters who also lives in Subang, Uwa Tati. She is an excellent cook; in fact, when I was still in kindergarten, she even opened a lontong kari (rice cake curry) stall in the downtown area of Subang.
Funnily enough, as we were getting ready to go to Uwa's house, which is not far from the public cemetery complex, one of Uwa's sons coincidentally called to exchange apologies. That's why he was very happy when Mama said we were going to Uwa Tati's house. Because of this, my cousin, whom I affectionately call A Luki, then offered to pick us up.
Coincidentally, it was already difficult to order an online taxi then, as drivers had already returned to their hometowns days in advance. That's why we gladly accepted A Luki's offer.
Not long after, A Luki arrived. Mama and I happily got into his car. Of course, I was very enthusiastic, as every opportunity to leave the house was a rare one for me. Moreover, that trip was for visiting relatives.
In short, after driving around Subang city, we arrived at Uwa's house. However, my assumption was slightly off. Not all of Uwa's other relatives, who are her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, had arrived yet. Besides A Luki, who lives close to Uwa's house, only Uwa's eldest son had arrived.
But it was no problem. After performing the Lebaran tradition of exchanging apologies, we sat together, immersed in a conversation filled with familiarity. The atmosphere became even livelier when one of Uwa's daughters arrived with her husband and two children.
Unfortunately, however, that atmosphere of intimacy didn't last long. The increasingly cloudy sky made Mama decide to go home. Moreover, the next day we had to leave for Bandung to attend a family gathering at Aunt Yuli's house.
Just like before, A Luki was kind enough to drive us home again. In the increasingly thick cloudy atmosphere, we returned. Actually, according to the plan, there were still several other relatives to visit: Mama's eldest sister, Grandmother's youngest sibling, and some of Mama's cousins.
However, the weather conditions didn't permit it, so we decided to go home, hoping to continue this visiting plan another day. The next day, the lively Lebaran celebration continued. With an enthusiasm that exploded like the fireworks I used to light on Takbiran night, I began my morning ritual, which had become routine. In short, that morning felt different from previous days, even though the echoes of takbir no longer resounded as vibrantly as the night before.
In my mind, I pictured the togetherness I only get to experience once a year, which I would be able to enjoy again in a few hours. Indeed, the relatives I would meet that day were inspiring figures who had painted dominant colors on the canvas of my life from the very beginning, even before I could walk, more than three decades ago.
This also included younger cousins and nieces/nephews who have only appeared more recently. Nevertheless, these figures I just mentioned have also colored my life with meanings that cannot be expressed in mere words.
After enjoying a breakfast of spaghetti, Mama and I waited for our ride, a travel car that had been our regular service for years. According to schedule, the vehicle arrived when my talking clock announced that it was nine in the morning.
The journey began. Alhamdulillah, the road conditions were relatively smooth. There was no traffic, even though it was the second day of Lebaran. In fact, there were only four passengers in the car: Mama, me, and a young mother with her toddler.
After a journey that took about two hours, we arrived at our destination: Aunt Yuli's house. Unexpectedly, our arrival was met with a lively buzz of voices from inside the house. It turned out everyone had already gathered.
In fact, not only family from Aunt Yuli's side had come. Family from Uncle Iman's side was also present, adding to the lively atmosphere. We immediately engaged in the handshake ritual that always serves as the opening of a gathering.
Just like at the mosque, the cacophony of voices coming from all directions made me a bit confused and unable to recognize whose hand I was shaking. Indeed, sometimes someone would mention their name, especially close relatives who knew me very well. I was also touched to hear voices that were rarely heard, some of which I had last heard a year ago. Yes, our individual busy lives indeed limited our communication, even by phone.
After finishing shaking hands with what felt like dozens of pairs of hands, we sat down. Uncle immediately gave a short opening speech for the event, followed by a series of prayers recited by one of Uncle's nephews whom I didn't know yet.
The lively atmosphere immediately subsided, replaced by a solemn aura hanging in the air as we all followed the voice of our relative reciting the prayer. However, that solemn atmosphere didn't last long. After the prayer concluded, the atmosphere immediately felt like a bottle with its cork pulled out.
I don't know who started it, but the hum of conversations resumed, making me a little confused, wanting to laugh, and curious all at the same time. The conversations happened simultaneously, seemingly without pause. What were people talking about?
Honestly, I couldn't identify them one by one, because the voices around me were so jumbled. Sometimes one would sound clearer than the others, allowing me to recognize it, but it would quickly be drowned out by other voices.
However, that didn't mean I could only listen without participating in the conversation. Some of my close relatives immediately took seats near me, so I could listen to, and of course, respond to their stories.
And even more delightful, my relatives kept bringing me available snacks. Dates, kastengels, nastar, and other typical Lebaran treats continuously made their way into my mouth, keeping me constantly chewing.
However, it turned out there was more. A cousin of mine, affectionately known as Teh Intan, suddenly interrupted my chewing with jars full of snacks. She said these snacks were authentic Indian treats. This wasn't surprising, as Teh Intan, who works for a multinational company, often travels to various countries, including the subcontinent nation located in South Asia. With a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm, I picked from the jars offered to me. I smiled to myself, imagining that I was eating the same snacks often enjoyed by Shah Rukh Khan or Kajol.
However, in terms of taste, these snacks felt quite foreign to my Indonesian palate. Nevertheless, there was one familiar item: chocolate from Dubai.
The lively chatter continued until lunchtime arrived. Cheerfully, Uncle Iman interrupted the hum of conversations by announcing that the lunch menu for the day was biryani rice, mandi rice, and roasted chicken. My level of enthusiasm soared. I hadn't expected those dishes to be served. In our family, and perhaps in other families across the country, Lebaran dishes like opor and its companions are so ingrained that the menu Uncle mentioned was quite a surprise, at least for me.
Moreover, the last time I tasted mandi rice was during the Lebaran holiday two years ago, when Teh Intan bought me mandi rice with roasted chicken. It was truly delicious, so I couldn't help but be eager to taste it again.
Suddenly, Uncle's voice was heard again, diverting my attention from that memory. Unexpectedly, Uncle Iman asked who would get the first turn to taste the dishes. However, no one dared to volunteer, perhaps out of shyness. That's why Uncle himself took the initiative. He then asked who had a birthday in March. But no one answered. Because of that, the same question was repeated, but this time April was mentioned. I don't know who answered, but enthusiastically, they called out my name. My cousins then followed by mentioning the names of two younger cousins who also had birthdays in the same month.
Uncle laughed, and to my surprise, he handed me a plate of rice and roasted chicken, which startled me. What an incredible birthday surprise, because I hadn't expected my special day to be celebrated at all. And not just celebrated by one or two people, the event was celebrated among the extended family, at a rare gathering. Truly an unforgettable day. Even the celebration was held a month early. Without hesitation, I accepted the plate and enjoyed the meal within. One of my younger cousins named Fina then helped me cut the chicken meat on my plate. Alhamdulillah, it tasted exactly as I remembered. Delicious. The exotic flavor of spices in each spoonful of rice blended with the tender chicken meat in my mouth, making me even more eager to chew. And I had already devoured countless snacks before that.
Around me, other relatives also enjoyed their food. The atmosphere continued in cheerfulness until suddenly one of my younger cousins said goodbye. He said he had to return to his workplace in Tegal that afternoon. We were surprised and a bit disappointed, especially Mama, Uncle, and Aunt. None of us had expected that the holiday granted would be so short.
However, to lessen our disappointment, Aunt Novi then suggested making a holiday greeting video, which would then be uploaded to the extended family group on WhatsApp. Just as expected, the atmosphere became cheerful again.
We immediately got ready. A Dimas, Aunt Novi's youngest son, was designated to deliver the first part of the greeting, followed by my other relatives. Laughter ensued, as the video recording process was, of course, not just a one-take affair. The process was repeated many times until we got a complete recording, which was then immediately uploaded to the family group as planned. Joking, I told Aunt that it was not impossible that other relatives would also make similar videos, following our footsteps. After that, Farrand, my younger cousin, left, accompanied by one of his older siblings. But the surprises weren't over. Suddenly, Aunt Novi, who apparently had checked WhatsApp, announced that many other relatives had been inspired by the video we uploaded, exactly as I had predicted. However, the styles used varied. I was grateful, because it turned out that our togetherness had also sparked the creativity of other relatives, at least to liven up our family group. The atmosphere remained filled with cheerfulness until the event ended. Alhamdulillah, today's event was truly beautiful, completing the endless series of wonders in my life.
After sipping a large glass of tea served by Aunt Yuli's daughter-in-law, our relatives gradually dispersed. Mama and I prepared to go home with Aunt Novi, continuing the remaining holiday. The cheerfulness of that day would not fade, leaving a deep impression in my mind. Hopefully, in the coming year, such joy will continue, accompanying our togetherness on the day of victory.
Subang, March 29, 2026