Collective force
It is the feeling of brotherhood that
makes fasting in Ramadan a unique
and joyous experience
BY MAHESH BHATT
On the 14th day of Ramadan, as I drove back home to break
my daily fast (roza), a beep on my cell phone alerted me to an
incoming message. This is what the message said: "Hello, Mr Bhatt. I
understand through your utterances and writings that you are not a
religious man and you do not believe in the efficacy of prayer. But I have
now learned that you maintain roza in the month of Ramadan. But the
peculiar thing is that when you break the fast you do so without offering
prayer. Your actions, Mr Bhatt, bewilder the Hindus and shock the Muslims
as well. May I ask why you keep roza?"
This question from a stranger made me smile but since the
query was an innocent one I instinctively punched in my response, which
was, "Islam is a part of my heritage. I was born to a Brahmin Hindu father
and a Shia Muslim mother. When I was a child my mother would ensure that I
fasted for at least one day in the month of Ramadan. I remember her
telling me that during the month of Ramadan the Muslims say that the gates
of hell are closed and the gates of heaven are open. This is the month
when Muhammad received his first revelation. After my mother died six
years ago I realised that the only way to keep her alive within me was to
fast for every single day in the month of Ramadan."
That evening when the distant azaan was heard and the
clock announced that the day’s fast had come to an end, my parched body
welcomed the first sip of water that I had taken in 14 hours like a desert
would welcome rain. As I bit into an overripe date I discovered that at
this particular moment I was a part of this collective release which bound
me together with millions of people in my country and all over the world
with such unnatural force that I experienced a sense of exhilaration like
I had never experienced before. And it was then that for the first time I
realised what the spirit of Ramadan is really all about. When so many
people together wholeheartedly share a common purpose, they are united in
a way that one has to experience to truly comprehend. And the exhilaration
comes from the fact that it’s not about the individual alone but about all
of us, together, doing something so completely.
And it is perhaps this feeling of brotherhood that makes
fasting in Ramadan such a unique and joyous experience.
In this buy, consume and junk age where one’s
consciousness is being bombarded by all kinds of pleasure peddlers who
market their mouth-watering food and drink on the hour by the hour, it is
such a relief to shut the door to them and their wares and protect your
body from an overdose of pleasure.
In the month of Ramadan one takes a break from the
hedonistic way of life. One gets off the treadmill of constant pleasure
seeking and lives a life of austerity and simplicity. This rejuvenates the
physical organism and fills one with unusual vigour. As days turn into
weeks you begin to realise that the human organism spends too much energy
in trying to process excess food intake. The maxim that man is killed by
too much food rather than too little food suddenly begins to make sense.
In the first few days of Ramadan, when the pangs of hunger
gnaw at your insides leaving you to constantly stare at the clock, you
suddenly feel as if there is an invisible umbilical cord connecting you to
the sea of otherwise faceless people all over the world that often go for
days without a square meal. Your apathy and indifference slowly begin to
fade away and your heart begins to wake up to the all-pervasive suffering
of your fellow human beings.
Another thing that makes this Ramadan even more special
for me is that my 13-year-old daughter, Alia, has for some strange and
unknown reason spontaneously decided to fast along with me. "Like you fast
for your mother, I fast for you," she said simply after I asked her what
prompted this unexpected decision. No wonder a wise man once said, "What
you teach your children, you also teach your grand-children". I wonder
whether years ago while my mother was shaking me awake in the hush of the
morning light and whispering, "Beta, time for sehri," she
knew she was also awakening her future grand-children. Isn’t this at the
end of it all what culture is all about?
(Mahesh Bhatt is a well-known film producer and writer,
and former director of several Hindi films.) |