It’s come to an end. The month of Ramadan which so many Muslims look forward to is coming to an end. Ramadan is the blessed month in which Muslims fast from dawn to dusk, the month in which we try breaking free of bad habits and developing good ones, a month in which we try to not only purify our bodies but also our souls, a month in which we focus on our true purpose by understanding God and his words.
When I was growing up, Ramadan was like an event. Every day my mother would wake up my siblings, my dad and I an hour before Suhoor. We’d eat dinner leftovers and omelette. My mother would make sure we all had a glass of milk and a glass of water. On the call to Adhan, my mother would ask my brothers and me to stop talking and finish our glass of water. We’d all perform the morning prayers together. My dad would go to work right after and my mother would ask my siblings and me to sleep a bit before school. And then after an entire day of starving, my mother never disappointed during Iftar. Homemade goods — mostly fried awaited to be devoured. My father, religiously, would ask us to pray five minutes before the break of fast as this was the golden time for prayers to be accepted. Ramadan has always been a month of rituals but for some reason, I always feel that it is the only month I find myself being the best version of myself.
I don’t ever remember fasting to be difficult. Fasting is the easiest part. The rest is difficult. Performing your five prayers on time is difficult. Refraining from foul language is difficult. Forgiving those who have wronged you is difficult. Letting go of grudges is difficult. Not engaging in backbiting is difficult. As I grew older, I realized that Ramadan had less to do with starving but more to do with feeding your soul with the habits that’d lead to nourishment and peace.
This Ramadan has been different. It’s my first Ramadan as a mother. This month has been difficult. I’ve found myself slacking in my worship because my infant son demands uninterrupted attention. For the first time, I’ve had to wake up on less than ten hours of sleep. Fasting has been difficult because the energy that an infant requires, both mental and physical is so exhausting. So while I feel that I could have done more this month, in terms of worship I also know that I’ve tried my hardest in becoming a better individual. I’ve worked on complaining less. I’ve worked on staying quiet as necessary. I’ve worked on being honest to people in conversations by saying what I truly mean. I’ve tried being there for my family this month — something that I truly did miss spending the past three Ramadans away from home. I’ve learned to be patient with people and myself. I’ve realized that endurance is a skill and one that must be learned. And an even greater skill than enduring others is pardoning them. It’s during these thirty days that I’ve learned that I have the power to change myself for the betterment of my own self.
As Ramadan comes to an end, I hope it becomes an extension of goodwill for the remaining months. I hope the spirit of Ramadan does not end here but instead carries itself throughout the year, as a reminder that being the best version of yourself is not limited to thirty days. I hope to witness many more Ramadans and pray that each one is better than the last.
