No
Ordinary Ramadan
By Neelma Siddiqi
US
It is the twelfth day of the month and I already
know it is a month I will not be able to erase
from memory. In fact, I knew it on the third day,
when my beloved piece of earth shook so violently
that it cut a gash through my soul.
Ramadan is the month of reflection - reflection
on the blessings of life, food, drink, health
and wealth. It is the time of giving alms freely,
a time to aid those less fortunate than ourselves,
and the time to purge our hearts of hatred and
anger. This year, it has proven to be a watershed.
I have been counting my blessings every single
day I have woken up to a new morning since that
Saturday; and every evening, when I sit in front
of the food I will break my fast with, under my
roof, with my husband and healthy children.
This year, I have discovered the real meaning
of alms - in the rescue teams that have come rushing
forward; in the tons of food and clothing that
has made its way up rugged mountains in a matter
of days. I have seen what it means to give of
yourself to alleviate others in the thousands
of volunteers who are working tirelessly and selflessly
to save lives every minute.
This year, I have felt that in times of need,
man is in fact capable of rising above his ego
and his differences with the world to serve the
greater cause of universal brotherhood.
With so much to be thankful for in the wake of
unfolding calamity half a world away, I feel almost
guilty. Maybe I’ve taken more than my share
of good fortune for now, and will pay later. It
makes no sense otherwise to see dazed, confused
and hungry children being pulled out from underneath
heavy rubble, only to find their limbs amputated,
or their homes destroyed, or worse yet, no one
there to come claim them.
I have never before been dealt such a blow, the
pain of which, might take generations to subside.
I may be at a distance from the trembling ground
itself, but I am not distant from the pain and
grief. Because it has hit Pakistan, it has hit
close to the heart. Ramadan will never feel the
same again. It will serve as a constant reminder
from now on of the vulnerability of life and the
impermanence of its vanities.
The world bemoans that tragedy always targets
the poor and weak. Even so, there are lessons
to be learned. We have ignored some areas of the
country to the extent that life seems to exist
in another dimension altogether there. We count
on the pristine beauty to bring in tourist dollars,
but fail to address the killer ruggedness of the
terrain, or for that matter, the housing demands
of a dangerous seismic zone. Maybe this is our
cue to implement stricter codes for the sole purpose
of saving human lives.
In a disaster-packed year, this tragedy has been
the icing on the cake for Pakistanis. The all-consuming
grief that we see on TV screens is no longer someone
else’s but our very own. It is real and
it hurts so much more. So much so, it is compelling
us to rise and do something about it on a desperate
level. Let us hope and pray for our speedy recovery.
Next year, when another Ramadan rolls around,
all of us will surely be reminded of the calamity
that befell us. Hopefully by then, this lesson
in grief will have propelled us to build healthier
lives, develop stronger communities, and adopt
a spirit that will continue beyond the month of
Ramadan.
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