The Ramadan Diorama


The sound of the sana’a echoed through the airs of the holy month. I glared through the dimly lit room, dizzily across for the sehri, as my parents had already lunged in for their respective spaces. I sighed and walked across spanking my face with some water and gargling and the beginning of the new day. This was not the usual day, of course. It was the dawn of the first of Ramazan, the holiest month of the Islamic calendar, positioning itself ninth in the chronology. My sleepy eyes and hunger struck devotion would rummage out the best of food that would appeal my appetite. However, it was all not very romantic. My reluctance to have morning breakfasts brewed in, and not very surprisingly, I ended up in a couple of slices of breads that were unevenly smeared up with butter and jam. It was awful tasting it, but perhaps I was left with no better option. Later, I succumbed to a glass full of milk, and rolled on back to my covers for a short nap. It was pretty quick that it was already time for my fajar prayers. I changed in my clothes, and tried managing to rush to the mosque in time. I managed finding a fair space for myself. Amidst some stale, and some sleep struck souls like me, I sneaked for someone I knew well, but didn’t find one. I spread across a facetious smile to the odd looking souls. My inside delved in an endless encounter with myself,not knowing which way to flock to after such a drama. Sanity disappeared like ice under heaped salt and I made up my mind that I would never forgive myself for this. I hadn’t even a notion of what drove me into this place. Was it the early seizure of devil’s temptations, that had succeeded in the reluctance of prayers throughout the past one year, or some karma that was influencing myself at the turn of event. Whatever it could have been it was altogether taboo.

Amidst everything, a cool breeze blew in, purging in all the disbelieves I had been lingering with throughout this time. The melodious sound of Allah O Akbar followed which is a signal for a formal start of prayers. I was all in mesmerized for some time, and a flash of all the major sins I had committed in the last year succeeded in. As I stood up for the prayers, i realized in that there there could have been no better moment when I could face my Lord so closely, and admit my wrong doings, and seek forgiveness for them. A flurry of tears flowed through. My voice muffled in a series of water droplets, which worth more than an amulet right now, or diamonds given down as alms for my blunders. As I bowed down, I could feel the incantations being revealed down to me. I realized that I was heard, and amidst everything that went on in the past years, I was being liberated from it bellows. It was magical, celestial and subtle, in a way, that no one could ever capture it. I was loving it.

I turned back home, rushed in to my room. I could still feel the sensation that came to me. I crushed my ear firmer against the bed pillow to hear my heartbeat tick like a rhythmic clock. I felt my mind fall into half slumber as I counted each one. I sleepily moved into my day dream, as I tickled up to gear up for another splendid Ramadan.

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