The start of Ramadan felt like a special time, like everyone was excited. Seeing the moon meant it was here, the most important month for Muslims. It made me feel close to my faith, like I wanted to be a better person. You can see the tiny shiny moon here...
This Ramadan felt amazing. It was a time to think about myself, get closer to God, and remember all the good things in life. Fasting wasn't just about not eating, it was about learning to control my wants, be patient, and appreciate all the good things I have. Every morning, I felt strong and wanted to do my best for this special month.
Ramadan is a time to help others, especially those who need it. Giving to charity felt even more important this month. It's a way to show God we love him and care about others. Reading the Quran and praying with others made me feel connected to them and to God.
The Taraweeh prayers at night were special. The mosque felt like a holy place with all the lights and everyone praying together. It was like our hearts were beating as one, praising God.
The First Day: A Symphony of Senses
The faintest sliver of dawn peeked through the blinds, a gentle nudge to wake from slumber. It was the first day of Ramadan Kareem, and a quiet excitement hummed within me. This year, the feeling was different. It wasn't just the anticipation of the month-long spiritual journey, but a sense of personal renewal, a yearning to deepen my connection with my faith.
As I rose from bed, the cool morning air whispered through the open window, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and the distant call to prayer. The air vibrated with a palpable energy, a shared reverence that seemed to permeate the very atmosphere. I knew this was more than just a day; it was the beginning of a transformation, a journey of self-discovery and spiritual growth. More amazingly...the weather was cloudy with some chillls in the air.
The kitchen beckoned with the promise of a comforting Sehri. The aroma of warm spices and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a symphony of scents that awakened my senses. My hands moved instinctively, preparing the simple yet satisfying meal: a square pratah, two boiled eggs, and a steaming cup of coffee. Each element held a symbolic significance, a reminder of the blessings I was about to embrace.
The pratah, a thin, crispy pancake, represented the strength and resilience I sought to cultivate within myself. The boiled eggs, a symbol of purity and new beginnings, reflected my desire to shed old habits and embrace a fresh perspective. The coffee, with its rich aroma and invigorating kick, symbolized the energy and focus I needed to navigate the day ahead.
As I savored each bite, a sense of gratitude washed over me. It wasn't just the food that I was grateful for, but the simple act of eating itself. This was a time for reflection, a moment to appreciate the blessings in my life, both big and small. I felt a deep connection to the generations of Muslims who had walked this path before me, their stories woven into the very fabric of this sacred month.
With the Sehri complete, I turned towards the window, the first rays of sunlight now painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. The air was still, a serene backdrop to the chorus of birdsong that filled the morning air. I felt a sense of peace settle upon me, a calmness that stemmed from the knowledge that I was embarking on a journey of self-discovery, guided by faith and a deep sense of purpose.
Although it was also a difficult task to prepare sehri while living in the hostel...but thankfully me and my sister faced this task with courage and managed to complete it with zeal.