Khaleej Times (Life) / 12 July 2013
A couple of weeks ago, I was casually talking to my friendly grocer about the commencement of Ramadan. “You seem to be very eager about it than us. Do you fast too?” he asked.
I shook my head in panic at the mention of fasting and hastened out of the store fearing that I may betray my gastronomic frailty to a man who was shortly going to eschew food and water during the day for a whole month. As I hobbled home, I gave his question on fasting a renewed thought, reassessed my capabilities and quickly realised that I wasn’t cut out for it. The instant negation of the proposition was followed by a torrent of other thoughts on aspects of abstinence and avoidance.
I have been away from coffee for a while now, thanks to my well meaning homeopath, and it has brought unspeakable agony into my life. To the filter coffee loving South Indian that I am, the doctor’s diktat has been nothing short of extreme deprivation and I must confess that I have cheated on it a few times, unable to rein in my cravings. Every time I broke the coffee code, I experienced mixed emotions - guilt at having broken the rule, concerns about neutralising the medicine, fear of the treatment turning ineffective and frustration at my inability to overcome a weakness.
I haven’t fasted in a long time, at least not in the precise sense of the word that means staying hungry for a prolonged period of time. For two reasons – one, my system completely disagrees with any such ordeal, triggering systemic mayhem in my body and mind that turns me into a raving ogress. Two, fasting in my religion allows for many concessions that make sure that the stomach is not entirely empty at any given point in time. We even have special ‘fast time food’. To me, allowances of this kind take away the sacredness and purpose of the act and it was better that I didn’t indulge in them and be happy about not going through some religious formality. If I had to test my endurance and faith, it had to be the real way – the Ramadan way, and I am convinced that it requires utmost restraint and devotion to the cause to complete it without demur. It takes more than ordinary willpower to be able to honour it for a whole month. And that, I presumably lacked.
It is this expression of absolute commitment, conviction and worship that makes me hold this holy month in great awe. I realise with a stir in my heart that here’s someone moaning about giving up coffee for a health reason, and out there, millions have willingly given up food and water for long, sweltering hours for a spiritual purpose. I can cheat on my doctor and have an occasional coffee, but there can be no leeway in matters of the Divine. The strength that such a devout act of abstinence imparts is immense and this strength in turn sustains one’s unflinching belief in the ultimate.
For a month, every evening, when the prayer call for Iftar permeates the sultry summer air, and human activity winds down for that moment of tryst with the Divine in the alleys of the world, I will stand witness in silent reverence to the palpable presence of the Almighty in the cosmos, manifested by the act of total surrender and salutation. It will be long before I gather the mental tenacity and physical ability to submit myself to such a test of faith and self restraint. Some day, I hope to be there, where the Supreme sublimates the senses. Until that moment of truth arrives in my life, I can only emotionally partake in the piety and gaiety of Ramadan, and mentally connect with the month of fasting and the days of feasting in the end.
