When you’ve lost loved ones or simply are too far away; reviving a tradition you shared with them, I find, brings them closer to you. Magically enough – you can almost feel their presence.
It was the first day of fasting yesterday and I missed being at home with my family. I missed cooking with my mum, watching the clock tick as we packed dad’s ifthaar to follow him to work. I missed scoffing my face with my brother at the stroke of sunset – only to feel too heavy to perform the late night prayers (which involve standing and prostrating over 25 times!). I missed fighting with my sister over the lemon garnish. And I missed watching Nan (who has no back teeth) squash food with her fingers just so she can enjoy the traditional dishes like the rest of us.
……so I set about putting together a spread of food which is traditionally devoured by my family on the first day of Ramadhan. Preparing kisoori, sana bazi, dalir bora, kebabs and samosas kept my hands busy with a practical task while my mind flitted around to memories of Ramadhans past.
By the end of the night, I still missed my family – just a little less. Feel truly blessed to have such wonderful memories of my family – not everybody is as fortunate. Reflecting, giving thanks and praying for people worse off than us is what Ramadhan is all about.
© Rabia Bashir 2013