“Remembering ‘Suhoor’ In The Old Days: Nostalgic Experiences Of Pre-dawn Meals For South Asian Women.”
Remembering ‘Suhoor’ in the Old Days: Nostalgic Experiences of Pre-Dawn Meals for South Asian Women
The dim glow of the kitchen light flickered as Hina poured herself a cup of tea, the house wrapped in early morning silence. She took a sip, glancing at her younger sister, Aisha, who was lazily poking at her plate of eggs and toast.
“I swear, Suhoor is the hardest part of fasting,” Aisha groaned, rubbing her eyes. “How did you wake up for this every single day when you were my age?”
Hina chuckled, stirring sugar into her tea. “Oh, Suhoor back in the day was a whole different experience. You wouldn’t believe how lively it used to be!”
Aisha looked at her skeptically. “Lively? At this hour? You must be joking.”
Hina smiled. “Let me take you back to a time when Suhoor wasn’t just a meal—it was a ritual, a moment of togetherness, and sometimes, even an adventure.”
The Call of the Dhol Wala
“In the old days,” Hina began, “there were no alarm clocks, no smartphone reminders, and definitely no Amma shaking us awake. Instead, we had the dhol wala—a man who would walk through the streets, beating his drum to wake the neighborhood up for Suhoor.”
Aisha’s eyes widened. “A real drum? Like a marching band?”
“Not quite,” Hina laughed. “But close! It was a deep, rhythmic sound that echoed through the streets in the quiet of the night. Sometimes, we’d wake up before Amma even came to our room, just hearing that familiar ‘dhun dhun dhun’ from a distance.”
Aisha smirked. “And let me guess, you’d pretend to sleep so you could skip Suhoor?”
“Always,” Hina admitted, grinning. “But Amma knew better. She’d come in, pull off my blanket, and say, ‘Beta, eat now or you’ll regret it later!’ And I always did regret it if I skipped.”
A Feast in the Stillness of Night
Hina closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the old kitchen, the warm scent of fresh parathas and chai filling the air. “Back then, Suhoor wasn’t just a quick meal—it was an event. The whole house would be awake, the kitchen bustling with Amma rolling out dough for parathas, Abba quietly reciting duas, and my older siblings fighting over the last spoon of yogurt.”
Aisha grinned. “Sounds a lot like Iftar now. What did you guys usually eat?”
“Simple, hearty food,” Hina said. “Parathas with butter and sugar, warm milk with honey, khajoor, and sometimes leftover curry from Iftar. And there was always lassi—thick, sweet, and cold, perfect for keeping us full all day.”
Aisha wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll stick to my toast, thanks.”
Hina shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Suhoor back then wasn’t just about eating, though—it was about feeling connected. No one sat alone staring at their phone like today. We all gathered around the table, half-asleep but together, sharing food, jokes, and reminders to make dua before Fajr.”
The Sleepiest Prayer of the Day
Aisha yawned dramatically. “I bet everyone knocked out right after Fajr.”
Hina laughed. “Oh, absolutely! We’d barely finish the last Ameen before racing back to bed. But you know, there was something peaceful about it—praying together in the early hours, the house still humming with the warmth of Suhoor, the sky just starting to lighten. It felt… sacred.”
Aisha tapped her fingers on the table, looking thoughtful. “I guess I never really thought about it like that. I usually just eat, scroll my phone, and go back to sleep.”
Hina smiled. “You should try experiencing it like we used to—fully present, with family, without distractions. You might find it makes Ramadan feel even more special.”
Aisha gave her a small, teasing smile. “Alright, Apa. Tomorrow, wake me up properly. No phone, no distractions. But you better make me some of that famous paratha.”
Hina laughed, ruffling her sister’s hair. “Deal. Let’s make this Suhoor one to remember.”
As they finished their tea, the house still quiet with the lingering warmth of their conversation, Aisha felt something shift—a new appreciation for the small, beautiful traditions that made Ramadan special, both then and now.