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My sincerest duaa for everyone is that the month goes by with ease and steadiness and we are all able to enjoy every bit of it—its sentiments, its worship, its food and company, its aura, its suhoor and iftaars, its last ten nights, its many, many blessings and paths to goodness—without feeling the clock. Ramadan Kareem to all 🙂
I’m not sure how much I’ll post this month, and I’m already behind, but since I can still recollect memorable things from the past few days I’ll attempt catching up:
Day 1:
I went to buy groceries for about four hours Wednesday afternoon. A lot of people were shopping in preparation for Ramadan. I started at the Mediterranean market and perused the aisles of imported middle-eastern goods, surveying fresh olives, picking out chocolate, picking up Anise cookies, deciding between teas. The store was full of new shipments of Rooh-afza, baked goods and sweets, and decorated with moon shaped tube lighting. The weather outside was cool and breezy, and things felt very peaceful. Ramadan was in the air.
I then went a few miles down to a grocery store and found Pakistani mangoes there. An auntie and I stumbled our way through selecting the best ones, as neither of us are accustomed to the luxury of these varieties here usually. In this store too, there were entire islands devoted to dates and nuts and candies for Ramadan’s arrival at sunset in a few hours.
As I went on shopping, ideas of gifts begin springing in my mind. I took a long and lovely time picking flowers for my cousin and aunt and stopped at the art store to pick up tiny vases for them. After getting home, I showered and dressed in something new, putting on my favorite bangles and made duaa the way one of my favorite scholars had shared:
We had dinner with our Grandmum staying over. I peeled a pomegranate and potted the flowers I had bought. The atmosphere was further peaceful than usual as this year everyone started Ramadan on the same day and there were no moonsighting battles until 11pm. My cousin arrived and Mona, her and I went to Taraweeh. The atmosphere was so enchanted—people were walking from all directions toward the banquet hall, coming together to pray. Inside, the hall was empty of furniture, but under the large chandeliers were rows and rows of white sheets for worshippers to pray on. The space was packed with people meeting and greeting each other on the first evening of the blessed month. People were dressed up in their nice clothes. One girl had a canary yellow scarf on that I kind of really wanted.
My cousin always runs into people no matter where she goes—I’m always ready for a 15 minute delay. Since I don’t know very many people in this particular community, I didn’t think I’d be running into anyone. As I sat gathered up against the back wall and people rushed by, a woman recognized me—a close friend of my mom’s that I had grown up with in Saudi who had moved here many years ago and was now friends with my aunt too. Before joining salah she swiftly came to me, bent down and kissed my head, gave me a quick hug and was off to pray. There was no time to even exchange words but it felt so warm and loving.
Everything in sight and sound and touch, and in the senses we cannot describe was twinkling about. Ramadan was in the air.
Astrelabe* 