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Tonight, it began - as it always does - with unconfirmed reports from somewhere obscure and exotic.
"Moon sighted in Burkina Faso. Eid Mubarak confirmed!"
As the sun dipped, all hell broke loose on WhatsApp. The moon was allegedly sighted in Burkina Faso by a shepherd named Idrissa, who swore on his goat's life he saw it. This news spread across continents in under two minutes, catapulting Idrissa's goat to the same level of religious authority as Mufti Abdur Rehman.
Then someone's uncle in Birmingham, UK forwarded a screenshot of a moon emoji overlaid on a grainy photo with a caption:
"Confirmed by local scholars. Eid tomorrow. Mubarak in advance."
The photo looked like it was taken with a potato. But credibility, of course, was established because the photo had three crescent emojis and a watermark that said "authentic."
Meanwhile in Ahmedabad, our beloved Uncle Bhikhu - donning his Cold War-era binoculars - clambered atop his garden shed and declared,
"I see it! I see the moon!" To which his nephew whispered "That's a drone, Bhikhu Chacha "
The sacred celestial tradition we all wait for - not quite Eid, not quite Ramadan - but the annual night of collective religious bewilderment.
Friends, welcome once again to the Moon Wars, that glorious moment in the Muslim calendar where astronomy, theology, nationalism, and unfiltered uncle logic collide like planets in retrograde.
Suddenly, group chats that had been silent since last Eid light up like a mosque on Chand Raat. And so, the Moon Wars officially kick off.
Meanwhile, in the Gulf, Eid has already been declared before Maghrib. You almost admire the efficiency. One imagines a red emergency button in Riyadh labeled "Announce" Eid"-pressed like clockwork, moon or no moon.
Meanwhile, back in Dearborn, uncles gather post-Maghrib in parking lots, each peering skyward as if their glasses can penetrate cloud cover. They begin dissecting a pixelated image circulating on Telegram. Someone claims it's verified. Another insists it's photoshopped. A third forwards a voice note saying it was confirmed by "a very reliable brother who once met Mufti Abdurrehman in Hajj."
It's theology meets WhatsApp. Fiqh meets forwarding fatigue.
Moonsighting.com, bless its well-meaning heart, tried to keep up - publishing visibility maps, green zones, red zones, and statements like:
"The moon might be visible if you're tall and squinting provided there's no fog. Good luck."
Suddenly, every second uncle was an astronomer, quoting lunar altitudes and azimuth angles. Aunties began referencing "phase cycles" between stirring biryani and yelling at the kids to stop making TikToks about moonfights. Site traffic spikes. People start using phrases like "optimal visibility arcs" and "atmospheric distortion"-people" who just last week thought "waxing gibbous" was a hair product.
It's beautiful, in a tragic kind of way.
Children, poor things, stand dazed. "Do we go to school tomorrow or do takbir?" They ask. No one knows. Even Alexa is confused.
One kid breaks down:
"Can someone just tell me if I should be excited or not?"
These are kids raised on NASA livestreams and SkyView apps. They know the exact position of the moon on Mars. They've seen lunar landings in 4K. And now they're being asked to trust a grainy JPEG, a forwarded voice note, and Uncle Bhikhu's optical instincts.
They're not losing faith. They're losing patience. And who could blame them?
As one young soul whispered in despair,
"We can predict an eclipse. We can calculate a blood moon. But the Eid moon? That's unknowable. Like parking at Jummah."
One night, Mulla was found pointing at the moon and weeping. "What happened, Mulla?" people asked. "I lent my neighbor a pot," he replied. "He swore on the moon he'd return it yesterday." "So why cry now?" "Because the moon is still there... but my pot isn't!"
That, dear friends, is our state. Swearing by the moon. Fighting over the moon. Planning entire sacred seasons around it - while the actual spirit of unity evaporates like dew under spotlight.
In one city, Eid is spread over three days like a weekend buffet. Everyone's spiritually full... and mentally exhausted when they read moon announcements like weather alerts:
"There is a 70% chance of Eid tomorrow with scattered confusion after Maghrib."
I marvel-not at the moon-but at our annual ritual of uncertainty. We've turned a divine celestial event into a communal identity crisis. Yet, underneath the drama and the dysfunction, there is still something deeply beautiful. We are a people who look to the heavens, who wait for a sign, who gather - however chaotically - around shared sacred moments.
So I smile-in that smile, perhaps, lies the very unity we keep searching for. We may not agree on when Eid begins. But we all agree why it matters.Eid Mubarak- whenever yours arrives.
Islam: Myth Vs. Alternative Facts
