It was past the halfway mark in Ramadan - and after surviving many back to back weekend shifts, I really needed a spiritual boost. The fasting was relatively easy this Ramadan despite my initial worries. This was my first fasting month as a full time working lady. Days were long and hot, and I was nervous about being tired or thirsty whilst on-call. Before, as a student, I could have easily shirked off responsibility - skipping classes for an extra hour of shut eye, or opting out of going out for a walk, choosing instead to being under a roof, sheltered from the sun's harsh rays.
But surprisingly, and thankfully, God had blessed this Ramadan with so much ease, Alhamdulillah. I had more energy than I would have normally (especially if compared to my normal post-prandrial lunchtime self). I could cycle to and from work without any fuss, and on busy days, I sometimes didn't even notice that I haven't broken my fast until the realisation that outside was clothed in darkness had set in. My body, my mind and my soul felt lighter.
However, after a long stretch of non-stop oncalls, I found myself waning. By the time I got home at night, I had not the energy to perform some of the special optional prayers of Ramadan. I could barely pry my eyes open for the obligatory prayers! It was like I was slipping away from Him, a feeling that is unfortunately all too familiar. Feeling distant will subsequently lead to feeling anxious.
In efforts to gain closeness, I suggested that we visit a local mosque for night prayers. We arrived only to be utterly disappointed - as my sister and I were turned away as there was "no space for sisters". On the angry walk back, I felt let down by the Muslim community and disgusted by such alienating behaviour. Unfortunately, this was not the first time this happened, and I predict it won't be the last. But that is a long story, for another time.
Basically after the shambles of that night, I just wanted to find an inclusive place to celebrate this beautiful month. And thats when we visited the Ramadan Tent Project. Located in central London, people of all faiths and none gathered together to open fast together. The tent was filled to its brim with people from all walks of life. Strangers opening dialogue with each other, talks on Islam, debunking some misconceptions of it preceded the beautiful call to prayer.
The azan brought tears to my eyes - didn't realise how much I had missed it. We prayed together, ate together and joined each other in conversation. I felt the spirit of Islam more here than in that so-called mosque. In that realisation, I felt both happy and sad. Sad that some religious institutions are misusing their power in misrepresenting our faith by excluding women from seeking closeness to God. But I also felt happy that the younger communities are doing something about it - working hard in changing perceptions and uniting communities as Islam has taught us.
With all the ups and downs that Ramadan had brought, I am so thankful for being given the chance to experience this blessed month in full. One of my seniors asked me, "Aren't you relived that you don't have to fast anymore in a few days time? You can finally eat again!"
I thought about it for a while, then gave him a smile.
"I think I am a little bit sad that it's going to be over soon. I am truly going to miss it."
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