The moon was unseen, yet life transformed completely winds, weather, birds, stars, mornings, and evenings all illuminated by a divine glow. The sky, a vast prison of splendor, bore witness to the changes unfolding before us. The streets buzzed with energy some rushing for Taraweeh, others searching for their caps. Women busied themselves with Sehri preparations. Prayers and recitations filled the air, continuing throughout the sacred month. Ramadan carried memories so delicate that they still stir the heart.
This blessed month had two perspectives. For elders, it was a time of spiritual devotion awaited all year to seek forgiveness and immerse in worship. For children, however, Ramadan was an adventure filled with innocent joys and small acts of devotion. As I reflect, my heart drifts back to the fasting of my childhood those days when Ramadan was just as sacred, yet different in its atmosphere and excitement.
As children, we weren’t obligated to fast, yet we took pride in participating. At Iftar, we’d sit solemnly, feeling as if we had accomplished a great feat. The moment the call to prayer echoed, we would hastily bite into dates sometimes swallowing the pits, leading to playful banter among cousins about date trees growing in our stomachs. Laughter would ripple across the table, and we’d spend weeks waiting in vain for our imaginary trees to sprout.
Sehri had its own charm. Each night, we would plead to be woken up, only to be betrayed by our deep slumber. Instead, we’d wake to the clatter of dishes, scramble to the table like startled soldiers, and savor the last bites before Fajr. The sweet lacchas were our favorite treat, devoured with delight before we joined our elders in prayer.
Growing up in a joint family added to the magic. The house bustled like a festive gathering. We had our own version of fasting “half-fasts” that lasted until noon. The clock became our closest companion, marking time until our makeshift Iftar at 12 PM. The true evening Iftar brought another round of excitement rushing to the mosque, delivering plates to neighbors, and eagerly awaiting their return, always filled with more than we had sent.
As Laylatul Qadr approached, we’d declare our resolve to stay awake. With determined spirits, we held our eyes open, only to eventually succumb to sleep, our little hands still clutching prayer beads.
Then came the awaited night Eid moon sighting. We raced to the rooftop, hoping to be the first to spot it. But alas, we stood with our backs to the sky, looking in the wrong direction! When the official announcement extended Ramadan by another day, elders rejoiced, while younger faces drooped like wilting flowers.
Eid morning arrived in a whirlwind of excitement. Clad in pearl-studded frocks, we dashed out to collect Eidi. But mischief always followed one untimely fall into a puddle turned our joyous day into a teary return home. Still, the magic of Eid prevailed, wrapping up Ramadan in a joyous embrace.
Ramadan, then and now, remains a season of transformation a time of prayer, reflection, and cherished memories. (Saima Ansari Research Scholar, Department of Urdu Lucknow University, Lucknow).
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