As a child, I once visited my aunt in her husband’s house during Ramadan. She had dark circles around her eyes due to lack of sleep, and she was haggard and toiling in the kitchen. She told us that her husband and his brothers all had “varied” food habits when it came to breaking the fast. And since her mother-in-law was too old to help, she had to do it all herself. This image became nightmarish for me. What about Ramadan’s spiritual benefits? In this case, won’t women dread Ramadan, if it means getting no sleep and the multiplication of housework? Why is a month that is about refraining from food, made ABOUT food? Are all the spiritual benefits and group prayers exclusive to men, while women should be there tending to all their needs? It broke my heart, and worried me incessantly. Does Ramadan for adult women mean increased manual labor? I was pretty adamant that my life was not going to turn out like hers. That my Ramadan is not going to be spent serving men.
And my adult life did have something different in store for me. I started working, and moved to a different city away from my family right after college. I was single for five years after this (which is a rarity where I come from). During these years, I started to enjoy fasting in Ramadan alone. I know it’s a Sunnah to break our fast with fellow Muslims. At work, I did see these gatherings of Muslims, who didn’t usually eat together on other days, break their fast together. But I rarely joined them. The one time I did join them, they were too keen to point out everything I did as a mistake. They said I shouldn’t be drinking too much water, and most of them didn’t usually pray, so they sat and spoke for long during Iftaar, while I was aching to pray Maghrib and get back to work. So I stopped. And I broke my fast alone, drinking a huge bottle of water and praying Maghrib within 5-10 mins of iftaar. Just the way I liked it. I never had to worry about societal expectations or norms that had to be followed. Since I was in office till night, I prayed my Tarawih alone, in my office prayer room. I loved it. I had learnt to celebrate Ramadan, on my own. It helped that I had great colleagues who would never ask me to attend a meeting when it was Iftaar time, and who didn’t question if I was away for half hour during Tarawih. There were days I wished for a refrigerator or a microwave, in the place I stayed, and some company to push me to pray, on the few days that I didn’t “feel” like it. But that was about it. I believed I was blessed that I got to observe Ramadan on my own terms. I knew it was a rare privilege, especially for an adult woman. [Read more...]