Last year I attended a Roza Kushai in Islamabad, to celebrate my very young grandsons first attempt at fasting and that set me on a journey down memory lane. While every city, town and village in the Islamic world and Pakistan celebrates the holy month in a befitting manner, 'Ramadan in Lahore had a few special ingredients that have perhaps become extinct over a period of time. The residents of the walled city did not have to set alarm clocks to wake up for sehri. Parties of men and boys, some carrying gas lights, moved around the narrow streets singing praises to the Almighty and His Prophet, interjected with loud calls for the faithful to awaken and have their pre-fast meal. As dusk and the time to 'open the fast approached there would be excitement in every household. The womenfolk would busy themselves in the kitchen, while the children raced off to the nearby mosque to participate in the beating of the shutri or the camel skin kettle drum. This ancient instrument had for hundreds of years been used to proclaim that those who were fasting could now eat and drink. Our shutri was located in a shrine or last resting place of a well known saint right next to our house and a dozen or so boys and even some girls from the neighbouring bungalows would gather at the spot and wait for their turn to beat a tattoo on the drum. Another traditional method of announcing the opening of the fast was by setting off large crackers or marriage bombs. This in all probability was an adaptation of the cannon that was fired from the city ramparts a long time ago at regular intervals to indicate time. Iftar parties were not in fashion and Iftari was a private family affair. Preparations for the event began early in the afternoon and the family sat down to an elaborately laid out dastarkhwan set out on the carpeted floor or a dining table. The menu consisted of some healthy low fat recipes that were peculiar to the month unlike the greasy fare that one sees today. One of these was boiled chana lentils that were drained and then spiced with ground red chillies, salt, some mint and sprinkled with lime juice. As the end of Ramadan came nearer, a new type of excitement took hold of everyone - the coming of 'Eid-ul-Fitr. A list of items required for Eid day would be prepared by the 'lord and lady of the house. This list included new clothes for everyone including the domestic helpers, vermicelli, sweat meats, bangles and henna. No Eid was complete without the traditional vermicelli and special care was taken to obtain it freshly made from reliable sources. Ours came from inside Mori Gate near the entrance to Majhi Gali, where days before Eid, one could see this form of pasta drying on, what looked like, long clothes lines. The sighting of the Eid moon was itself an exciting and elaborate affair. Families would climb on top of roofs and mamties in the old city, and everyone would vie to be the first to sight the thin silvery sliver that heralded the end of Ramadan and coming of Eid. Once sighting had been done, hands would be raised in a prayer of thanks to the Almighty and youngsters would eagerly salaam the elders of the family. Soon, the women would assemble in a central room to apply henna on their hands and bundles of bangles would be opened up to be presented to one another. It was a tradition in Lahori families to offer the Eid prayers in the historic Badshahi Mosque and my family was no exception. Everyone woke up early, bathed and put on new dresses for the occasion. We then piled up in our car and were driven to the great mosque to be joined by other kinfolk converging there from the four corners of Lahore. We would carry sheets that would be spread on the ground with others forming colourful linear patterns on the red sandstone courtyard of the mosque. The end of prayers was marked with everyone hugging everyone else in a show of Muslim brotherhood and bonhomie. The high point of the day was the distribution of Eidi to the youngsters, who would happily run off to spend it. This then was how Lahoris celebrated Ramadan and Eid - with passion and genuine goodwill, unlike the ritualistic and westernised celebrations that one is apt to witness today. The writer is a freelance columnist.