Fasting and feasting - the ancient and natural rhythm of life. Constriction and expansion. Scarcity and plenty. Withholding from and abandoning unto. Outer attention and inner awareness. Sight and insight. For me Ramadan is about all these things.
Ramadan in Pakistan is also about togetherness, caring for others and Ramadan road rage (theirs, not mine - it usually occurs in the last half hour before sunset as people rush to reach home in time). My daughter says for her its about introspection and appreciation and I would heartily agree. Its that inward looking quality that comes with the territory that makes it so compelling. Time to attend to the inner self, the interior world, empty it out of thriving idols, polish the mirrors, reduce the hissing vipers of negative thought, opinion and judgement.
I'm not sure why but the lead up to Ramadan often seems imbued with a mounting frenzy. An internal pressure builds up to complete tasks and tie up loose ends in order to free myself for the month. Having been abroad this year during that period, the whirl of coffees and meals out with friends has felt slightly beyond my control. For all my enjoyment of the feasting with dear friends, I am longing for the fasting and withdrawal. And living in a Muslim country, the communal consensus on the change of life's daily rhythm heightens the sense of the sacred and makes the transition sweeter. What a luxury not to have to explain to anyone why one isn't eating! And how liberating to feel perfectly justified to spend time alone, read and reflect!
Of course, life doesn't stop during this month, though work days are shortened and afternoon siestas become necessary. Food markets seem as busy as ever, with our local snack bars selling samosas, pekoras, dehi bare, aloo papray chaat and suchlike, seeing a huge increase in business. Mosques suddenly fill up like never before as people rush to assuage their guilt over their prayer deficits, or earn more divine favour by increased prayers.Completing the reading of the Noble Qur'an during this month is also often achieved through the medium of the optional but customary Tarawih* prayers, wherein some Imams recite a juz' every evening during the Tarawih, while other more ambitious ones may recite 3 a day over a period of ten days.
In my own household, kitchen 'Domestos' continues apace, albeit in modified form. Not everyone is able to fast, so lunches still have to manifest. And then there's the 'iftaari'. Growing up in my own more Middle Eastern influenced family, fast-breaking was observed simply with dates and water, maybe a broth and then prayers. Dinner would only then follow, and invariably it would be healthful soups, stews, rices, salads and maybe a rice pudding or some other soft dessert. It was impressed on us the need to eat right in order to enable the blessings of Ramadan to flourish, rather than allow poor diet to interfere with this sacred time.
Iftar or fast break in Pakistan is a much grander affair - celebratory almost. When I first moved here I had declared my home a pekora free zone - I simply couldn't get my mind around the idea of fried foods for 'breakfast'. Gradually as my children grew up and acclimatized to local fare the demand grew for these unconscionable delicacies - and I happily admit one cannot deny the tastiness of fresh home-made pekoras and samosas. My son would disappear to break fast with the staff, as he found their iftar more appetizing than the wholesome chickpea salads, yoghurt dishes and fruit salads I preferred to offer. So in spite of my avowal, over the years the frequency of said fried items appearing on our iftar spread started to increase. If you can't beat them, join them! Like a salmon tired of swimming upstream to spawn, I found nothing around me corroborated with my own ideas about what was culinarily appropriate. My resistance eroded in direct proportion to the desire to please.
The Prophet (S) famously declared that for most of his followers, fasting represented nothing more than hungry bellies, and praying meant tired knees. Even then he had identified the pitfall of mindlessness in acts of prescribed worship. If we only engage with our rites of worship with attention to form, they can easily become empty. But with mindfulness of the inner meanings, they become gateways to inner vistas of stillness and sublime silence. The withdrawal and withholding of Ramadan allows multiple layers of awareness to descend on us: from seeing how weak and dependent we are on our habits, to heightening our compassion and awareness of the needs of others, to refreshing our knowledge of the Qur'an al-Karim, to savouring the sweetness of extended periods of invocation, and generally to bask in a feeling of lightness that evokes qualities of true Light. Reducing the sway of the appetites of the self increases the divine light that already reflects in us.
Fasting is the fast track to inner witnessing par excellence. Gradually the interior white noise starts to shrink to a whisper. Caverns of inner silence expand. The sense of beingness mushrooms, filling all the inner matrices. Ramadan is truly a sacred time for renewal. And of all our prescribed worships, this one is the most invisible: only Allah can know if we have truly fasted, on the level of alimentation, speech, intention and action. And thus it is that He declares that He will be its reward. Such an intimate promise, so sublime. To fast for the love of Allah alone, in obedience to His call to remember Him and only Him - that intention can only be met with direct Divine Grace.
Glossary:
Iftaari, iftar: literally fast breaking.
Juz': A portion of the Qur'an, specifically, one thirtieth part.
Pekoras: Gram flour fritters seasoned with vegetables and spices.
Qur'an al-Karim: The Noble Qur'an.
Tarawih: Special Ramadan prayers recited after the last evening prayer.
*Originally optional, Tarawih was instituted as a congregational prayer by the second caliph Umar, with the number of rak'at differing according to which school of law is followed (20 for the Hanafis, for example). The Prophet had always recommended night prayers be done, especially during the month of Ramadan (a total of 11 rak'at).
Ramadan in Pakistan is also about togetherness, caring for others and Ramadan road rage (theirs, not mine - it usually occurs in the last half hour before sunset as people rush to reach home in time). My daughter says for her its about introspection and appreciation and I would heartily agree. Its that inward looking quality that comes with the territory that makes it so compelling. Time to attend to the inner self, the interior world, empty it out of thriving idols, polish the mirrors, reduce the hissing vipers of negative thought, opinion and judgement.
I'm not sure why but the lead up to Ramadan often seems imbued with a mounting frenzy. An internal pressure builds up to complete tasks and tie up loose ends in order to free myself for the month. Having been abroad this year during that period, the whirl of coffees and meals out with friends has felt slightly beyond my control. For all my enjoyment of the feasting with dear friends, I am longing for the fasting and withdrawal. And living in a Muslim country, the communal consensus on the change of life's daily rhythm heightens the sense of the sacred and makes the transition sweeter. What a luxury not to have to explain to anyone why one isn't eating! And how liberating to feel perfectly justified to spend time alone, read and reflect!
Of course, life doesn't stop during this month, though work days are shortened and afternoon siestas become necessary. Food markets seem as busy as ever, with our local snack bars selling samosas, pekoras, dehi bare, aloo papray chaat and suchlike, seeing a huge increase in business. Mosques suddenly fill up like never before as people rush to assuage their guilt over their prayer deficits, or earn more divine favour by increased prayers.Completing the reading of the Noble Qur'an during this month is also often achieved through the medium of the optional but customary Tarawih* prayers, wherein some Imams recite a juz' every evening during the Tarawih, while other more ambitious ones may recite 3 a day over a period of ten days.
In my own household, kitchen 'Domestos' continues apace, albeit in modified form. Not everyone is able to fast, so lunches still have to manifest. And then there's the 'iftaari'. Growing up in my own more Middle Eastern influenced family, fast-breaking was observed simply with dates and water, maybe a broth and then prayers. Dinner would only then follow, and invariably it would be healthful soups, stews, rices, salads and maybe a rice pudding or some other soft dessert. It was impressed on us the need to eat right in order to enable the blessings of Ramadan to flourish, rather than allow poor diet to interfere with this sacred time.
Iftar or fast break in Pakistan is a much grander affair - celebratory almost. When I first moved here I had declared my home a pekora free zone - I simply couldn't get my mind around the idea of fried foods for 'breakfast'. Gradually as my children grew up and acclimatized to local fare the demand grew for these unconscionable delicacies - and I happily admit one cannot deny the tastiness of fresh home-made pekoras and samosas. My son would disappear to break fast with the staff, as he found their iftar more appetizing than the wholesome chickpea salads, yoghurt dishes and fruit salads I preferred to offer. So in spite of my avowal, over the years the frequency of said fried items appearing on our iftar spread started to increase. If you can't beat them, join them! Like a salmon tired of swimming upstream to spawn, I found nothing around me corroborated with my own ideas about what was culinarily appropriate. My resistance eroded in direct proportion to the desire to please.
The Prophet (S) famously declared that for most of his followers, fasting represented nothing more than hungry bellies, and praying meant tired knees. Even then he had identified the pitfall of mindlessness in acts of prescribed worship. If we only engage with our rites of worship with attention to form, they can easily become empty. But with mindfulness of the inner meanings, they become gateways to inner vistas of stillness and sublime silence. The withdrawal and withholding of Ramadan allows multiple layers of awareness to descend on us: from seeing how weak and dependent we are on our habits, to heightening our compassion and awareness of the needs of others, to refreshing our knowledge of the Qur'an al-Karim, to savouring the sweetness of extended periods of invocation, and generally to bask in a feeling of lightness that evokes qualities of true Light. Reducing the sway of the appetites of the self increases the divine light that already reflects in us.
Fasting is the fast track to inner witnessing par excellence. Gradually the interior white noise starts to shrink to a whisper. Caverns of inner silence expand. The sense of beingness mushrooms, filling all the inner matrices. Ramadan is truly a sacred time for renewal. And of all our prescribed worships, this one is the most invisible: only Allah can know if we have truly fasted, on the level of alimentation, speech, intention and action. And thus it is that He declares that He will be its reward. Such an intimate promise, so sublime. To fast for the love of Allah alone, in obedience to His call to remember Him and only Him - that intention can only be met with direct Divine Grace.
Glossary:
Iftaari, iftar: literally fast breaking.
Juz': A portion of the Qur'an, specifically, one thirtieth part.
Pekoras: Gram flour fritters seasoned with vegetables and spices.
Qur'an al-Karim: The Noble Qur'an.
Tarawih: Special Ramadan prayers recited after the last evening prayer.
*Originally optional, Tarawih was instituted as a congregational prayer by the second caliph Umar, with the number of rak'at differing according to which school of law is followed (20 for the Hanafis, for example). The Prophet had always recommended night prayers be done, especially during the month of Ramadan (a total of 11 rak'at).
Woof!!
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