Why festivals are more magical in childhood

From the day Sreeyodita bought her new dress, she guarded it like a secret treasure. When she was asked, "Why did you hide your dress, Sreeyodita? It's just a dress?" She gave a serious look and responded, "If someone sees it before Eid, the magic will be ruined. The dress will lose its charm, and the day won't feel the same."

Eid is a festival that brings joy to people of all ages, but it is truly magical for children. The excitement begins days before—the rush of buying new clothes and the promise of endless fun.

Unlike adults, who often get caught up in responsibilities, children see Eid with pure joy, making even the smallest traditions feel grand.

Asif Mostafa Anik, father of little Sriyodeeta, smiles as memories of his childhood Eids come rushing back. "For me, Eid was about collecting as much Eidi as possible, showing off my new dress, and flashing my brand-new watch that perfectly matched the outfit," he shares, where his voice was soft with nostalgia. "Seeing Sriyodeeta now, I realise that childhood is when Eid is truly alive, untouched by adult worries."

For 5-year-old Sreeyodita, Eid is not just a religious celebration but a playground of dreams. Sriyodeeta's mother, Saima Eshita, chuckles, "She refuses to even try on the dress properly. She says if she does, it won't feel new on Eid morning."

As we grow older, Eid remains special, but how we experience it changes. Responsibilities replace wonder, and nostalgia takes over as we long for the effortless joy we once felt.

Why is Eid so much more magical in childhood? And can we, as adults, recapture even a piece of that wonder? As adults, it's easy to lose sight of the small wonders of Eid in the busyness of preparation and responsibility. However, reconnecting with the joy through a child's eyes can reignite the spirit of celebration. 

To understand the magic of Eid from a child's perspective, we must look beyond the traditional customs. It's not just about wearing new clothes or receiving Eidi (gifts); it's about the innocence and excitement that make the festival a larger-than-life experience. 

When experienced through a child's eyes, festivals have an ineffably enchanting quality. The shine of new clothes, the aroma of festive dinners, the excitement of gifts, and the laughter that fills the house—Eid becomes a wonderland for young hearts.
Just across the neighbourhood, siblings Arsalan and Ayaat are equally swept up in the festive spirit. 

Arsalan, a lively 7-year-old, can barely contain his excitement as he shares his plans. "I got a new white Punjabi and a shirt," he says proudly. "And Baba got me a watch, matching shoes and a pair of sunglasses this time!" For Arsalan, Eid morning is about more than just prayers—it's about feeling grown-up, well-dressed, and heading to the mosque hand-in-hand with his father.

His younger sister, 4-year-old Ayaat, is shining this Eid. A self-proclaimed Barbie fan, she has chosen a Barbie gown for the celebrations. But what makes her Eid genuinely unique is her quirky tradition. 

Every Eid, Ayaat insists on joining the Eid namaz wearing a men's white Tupi with her cute frock, their father explains with a laugh. "And she stands right in the men's line at the mosque, between me and Arsalan."  Her excitement is infectious as she clings to her small prayer mat, mimicking her father's and brother's every move during Eid namaz.

Arsalan shared how he and his sister made their Eid day fun and memorable. "I'm happy because there's no school on Eid," Arsalan says excitedly. "We can play all day, eat different kinds of food, and collect Eid salami from everyone!"

After coming home from the mosque, Arsalan and Ayaat sit together and watch special Eid shows and cartoons on TV, laughing and chatting as they eat.

"And my sister makes it funny," Arsalan says with a smile. "She puts on her lipstick and won't eat or drink because she doesn't want it to smudge. She tries to sip without letting the glass touch her lips when she drinks!"

For 10-year-old Zara, Eid is special because it means travelling to her grandparents' house in the village. 

"That's my favourite part of Eid," she says with a big smile." I love meeting my cousins and my friends there." In the village, Eid mornings are full of excitement. Zara and her friends get ready together, putting on their new dresses and carrying their pretty little bags to collect the Eid salami. 

"We all go from one elder to another, saying Eid Mubarak and waiting for them to give us money," she laughs.

Another thing Zara loves about Eid is applying henna. "I always put on henna the night before Eid," she shares. 

"I love the smell of it—it makes me feel like Eid is here." For children, Eid doesn't begin on the day itself—it starts weeks before.

Then, somewhere along the way, something shifts. Eid starts to feel different—not because it has changed, but because we have. As we grow older, responsibilities take centre stage. 

Instead of receiving Eidi, we start giving it. Instead of playing, we help set the table. Instead of simply enjoying, we start planning, coordinating, and ensuring everything runs smoothly. 

The excitement didn't disappear overnight—it faded slowly, slipping through our fingers like sand. One year, the new clothes didn't seem as thrilling. Another year, Eid felt more like an obligation than a gift. The day felt shorter. The magic grew quieter.
Perhaps the magic of Eid hasn't disappeared—it has simply transformed. It now lives in the laughter of children racing through crowded rooms, the quiet joy of giving rather than receiving, and the warmth of long-overdue embraces with loved ones. 

Maybe the key to rediscovering Eid's wonder isn't found in longing for what once was but in opening our hearts to the present, just as we did in childhood.

By embracing a child's perspective, we learn to let go of stress, find happiness in small things and appreciate the festival not just for what it once was but for what it still is.