NO FOOD, no water. Dawn to dusk. A knot of apprehension starts to form but the azan (call for prayer) cuts through my thoughts. It’s time to pray. I rush to join the growing prayer congregation, reminding myself to give my best and leave the rest, as they say, in God’s hands.
My head bowed in deference, hands folded over my chest, silence for a heartbeat or two.
Then the Imam begins: Bismillah hir rahman irrahim, in the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful.
Tonight, I pray the Tarawih, a special nightly prayer for the month of Ramadan. Tomorrow, I begin my fast at dawn.
COLD splashes jolt me awake as I perform my ablutions. The time: 5.30am. The fast has started and now I kneel for the dawn prayer, one of five daily prayers Muslims fulfil year round.
The pre-dawn meal, sehri, or suhur as is commonly known by Muslims around the world, had passed in a drowsy blur. I don’t want to feel sleepy during prayer. Action without intention rings hollow, like laughter without joy. And prayer is joy. It is peace. Prayer is what helps us get closer to the divine.
Bismillah hir rahman irrahim… I surrender myself to the familiar motions as the gentle cadence of Quranic verses put me at ease.
Consequently, deeply reflecting – and acting – on the word of God is the most important aspect of this month.
The Quran to us, is essentially the word of God. We believe the first verses were revealed to our prophet Muhammad in the month of Ramadan during Laylat al-Qadr, that is, The Night of Power. It is the month when God sent us guidance.
Truth to tell, this is much harder than abstaining from food. Fasting requires that I slow down, be less reactive. Where every little annoyance used to elicit a muttered curse, I now have to remind myself to be be patient, to watch what I utter.
Every spark of anger or the stab of jealously that leads to a wagging tongue has to be tamped down lest I weaken my fast with the vulgarity of my thoughts.
It may be difficult but that is the main challenge of fasting. Of what use is my physical abstinence if my heart remains sour?
Therein lies the beauty of the month of Ramadan: The procession of daily life with an injection of God consciousness. As the day wears on, the dull ache of hunger and parched tongue demands that I remember the purpose of this month, which is to strengthen my connection with God and become a better person, a better Muslim.
With the heightened self-awareness on top of the usual workload, it’s not long before the day comes to an end and I look forward to breaking my fast with my family. Like most Muslims, we make an effort to be home in time to break fast together.
Dates, thick slices of watermelon, a cool glass of sherbet and a bowlful of fresh salad along with dhal puri (flatbread). Soon after the sun sets, the sweet sound of the azan (call for prayer) beckons and we break fast.
Food. Water. Yum.
This article was first published on The Middle Ground (TMG), June 13, 2016.
Featured Image: Hari Raya Prayer 2019 at Jurong East Mosque, by Suhaile © All rights reserved 2019