[MasterONaniFiqh]

The big fat man with the wide eyes and excited Cheshire cat smile that both never seemed to fade continued. The little bushy eyebrows seemed to come together in strained concentration for a moment. It was a look of abject, syrupy sympathy.

"So what you're saying is...it's a lot like Gandhi..."

I knew I shouldn't have come to work in the shalwar-kamiz.

I sighed. "No, Steve. It's--what? Gandhi?"

"Yeah!" He lit up even more. "Y'know, he was fasting for peace! And he was Indian, like you."

"No, Steve. I mean, yes, I guess he--but..."

"And he wore white like you! That cute little diaper!"

"It's not a--I'm not Hindu, Steve, but that's not---ugh!"

Steven went on, completely oblivous. I eyed the space between him and the cubicle walls to either side. All this had started because he had stepped in my path while I was on my way to make some copies. Nope. Still not enough space for me and the big stack of papers in my hands.

"Oh, I know that. I know. But it's like that."

"Ok, look I'll explain it. Okay? We just fast to hone our self control, you see? And it's the ninth month of our lunar calander--which runs parallel to the regular calander, but is 11 days shorter, so the dates shift forward 11 days each year--and we call it Ramadan. We believe it's the month when the Prophet received the revelation of the Quran and full of blessings. And the devil's chained during the month, so any bad deeds you do are just on you and your baser inner natures which you're trying to overcome. And we get up in the morning before sunrise, eat breakfast, fast all day, no food, no water, no sex if you're married, and then at sunset, we have a meal to open the fast, usually with family and friends, maybe at the mosque--it's considered a good deed for you to pay to host it at the mosque, so people do that--and you're supposed to try to be good. No fighting, or other bad habits you usually do. Cut down on 'em. And...uh...at night we pray extra prayers--in addition to the five daily ones we try to get to every day--and...uh...uh..."

I blinked and tried to think of anything else.

Steve continued to watch me, eyes wide with multicultural delight, mouth open like an expectant puppy waiting for a treat. He was my boss, by the way. He was one of those nice bosses. Some people like those.

"And today!? The holiday!?"

"Oh. Right. Today is the day after the end of the month--which is determined by either the sighting of the new moon in the sky, or by the declaration of said sighting in Saudi Arabia for some, or by predetermined astronomical calender by some, and we all get together and have a big, extra congregational prayer at the mosque or a fairground or park, where we hear a sermon and then get up and hug each other, and throw litter all over the place and then go house hopping from one house to the other eating and greeting with friends and family, and in my culture older people give younger people money, and there's picnics and maybe gifts, and the devil has to fast and it lasts three days and...it's basically our--"

"Yes!? Yes!?"

"Sigh....it's our big holiday, Steve. It's our Christmas."

"I LOVE CHRISTMAS!"

He flung his hands up in the air, knocking the stack of papers in mine up and into the air like big rectangular pieces of white confetti, which fluttered down all about us and around the nearby cubicles. Other people in those cubicles poked their heads up like suddenly happy gophers. "Christmas? Did someone say 'Christmas?" some of them said.

"It's Kamran's Christmas, everybody!" Steve plunged forward and gripped me in a bear hug before I could dodge. It straightened my back with the force of it and I looked straight up at the ceiling. But my pained expression was conveniently covered by a piece of paper that landed on it.

"Eid!" I managed to get out before all the wind left me and my teeth came tightly together. "It's called Eid!"

"Merry Eid, Kamran!" called Steve.

"Merry, Eid!" called everybody else, lowering back into their cubicles contently.

He let me go and I wiggled loose. With no more to do than that, he turned and trundled off down the cubicle hallway. I bent forward with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I finally shook my head, started to pick up the paper from the floor and said, "Yeah. Merry Eid, Steve."