Tomorrow I will wake up. Tomorrow my bedside digital clock will have 10:00 am printed on it’s face and I will not eat breakfast. I will forgo the thought of a drink, or a piece of that delicious banana chocolate cake sitting alone in the fridge. Another Ramadan rolls in and another wave of heavy expectations hit me in the face. I remember last Ramadan vividly and yet I cannot remember the events of last year. They seem to have moulded and mixed with the present until I cannot tell the difference between yesterday and today, last month and this month, last year and this year.
- Can’t seem to tell the difference between night and day anymore
My life is quite uneventful that is true, but Ramadan is another thing. It is a month where I seek to be eventful, productive, diligent, patient, forbearing, kind, generous,pious and forgiving. These are the lofty goals for which I strive yet every Ramadan is a doubtful Ramadan accompanied by an inexplicable fear of failure in reaching my goals. Every encounter with this holy month reminds me that I am growing and ageing, that I am not longer a kid nor a teenager, that the rainy days spent on my sofa playing video games are gone forever and never to return. I am indeed growing but towards what? Is it positive growth? Or just heedless growth like the weed on concrete side walks.
Ramadan brings me face to face with the prospect of failure – I might not reach the goals I have set for myself. So this year I will go with the flow and set only a few specified goals (which you can see on my Ramadan Checklist post). Another year has come and another has gone. I do not feel happy, sad, elated or depressed. Much has happened to me and mine over the past year and yet the days feel the same and the sun rises and the sun sets. But I know one thing, Ramadan is tomorrow and the sun will rise but I will be awake before that happens and the sun will set and I will be praying the night prayer in the Mosque when that happens. The days will not be the same any more and the small shard of excitement that I so desperately crave in my paralysing, mundane life will be found in the long of hours of battle with my stomach and the influx of activity in my limbs. Life is dry, inane, tragic. Ramadan is the opposite.
RAMADAN MUBARAK and may Allah, ruler of the heavens bless the Muslims and the world during this month Inshallah.