Comedian and actor Munawar Faruqui looks at Eid not just as a celebration, but as a feeling of calm that arrives after a spiritually intense and deeply engaging month of Ramazan. Speaking about the same, Munawar says, “For me, Eid is that sukoon that comes after Ramazan. There’s a lot happening during Ramzan—of course it can be stressful—but it’s also filled with joy. It’s about giving, feeding each other, and being there for one another.” Eid, he says, marks a pause. “It’s like, now we can finally relax, sit together, and just be and enjoy the small joys.”
That sense of stillness is something he has come to appreciate over time. Growing up, Eid meant something entirely different. “As kids, it was all about excitement, new clothes, food, meeting everyone,” he recalls, adding: “But now, it’s about the love you show and the responsibilities you understand.” The shift, he admits, has been gradual but grounding, shaped by age, family, and a deeper awareness of what the festival truly stands for.
Some memories, however, remain unchanged, for the 34-year-ol Faruqui vividly remembers keeping his first roza at the age of six or seven. “I still remember that feeling of completing my first roza, it was like a celebration,” he says with a smile. Years later, that memory came full circle when his own son Mikael observed his first fast. “Last year, Mikael kept his first roza, and it was special, I made sure I spent time with him, kept him distracted, played with him… just to make it easier. Watching him complete it meant a lot.”
At home, Eid is now as much about creating those moments for his children as it is about holding on to his own. “We make sure the kids feel excited. They talk about it with their cousins, they wait for it, it’s that same energy.” The effort, he suggests, lies in passing on not just traditions, but the feeling attached to them. Food, inevitably, becomes a bridge between past and present. While many festive staples remain constant, one dish, in particular, carries a deeply personal note for him. “Sheer khurma is something I can always swear by,” he says. “It takes me back to childhood, you won’t find that taste anywhere else.” And yet, even that memory has evolved. “I used to think that the sheer khurma made at my home was the best, but after I married Mehzabeen Coatwala, I realised how wrong I was. Uske hath ke sheer khurma ki baat hi alag hai.”
{{/usCountry}}At home, Eid is now as much about creating those moments for his children as it is about holding on to his own. “We make sure the kids feel excited. They talk about it with their cousins, they wait for it, it’s that same energy.” The effort, he suggests, lies in passing on not just traditions, but the feeling attached to them. Food, inevitably, becomes a bridge between past and present. While many festive staples remain constant, one dish, in particular, carries a deeply personal note for him. “Sheer khurma is something I can always swear by,” he says. “It takes me back to childhood, you won’t find that taste anywhere else.” And yet, even that memory has evolved. “I used to think that the sheer khurma made at my home was the best, but after I married Mehzabeen Coatwala, I realised how wrong I was. Uske hath ke sheer khurma ki baat hi alag hai.”
{{/usCountry}}Despite the demands of his profession, Faruqui tries to remain anchored during Ramazan. He consciously distances himself from distractions. “We don’t have a tv at my place, once in a while we go for movies, but try to keep kids away from such distractions. Ramzan is a different time. You don’t want to spend it on entertainment, its more about discipline.”
This year, however, the celebration will come with a sense of absence. Work commitments will keep him away from home during Eid. “I’ll definitely miss my family as I am not going to be home for eid,” says Munawar adding: “When you’re working, you have to be somewhere else, it’s part of the job. But we’ll make sure to celebrate properly next year.”