“The First Fast: A South Asian Woman’s Recollection Of Her Initial Experience With Ramadan.”
The First Fast: A South Asian Woman’s Recollection of Her Initial Experience with Ramadan
The sky was still painted in hues of deep indigo when Maha, Sania, and Hina woke up for Sehri. Their mothers bustled around the kitchen, heating up parathas and filling cups with steaming chai, while the house hummed with quiet excitement. This was no ordinary morning—it was the start of something sacred, something they had waited for their entire childhood. It was the day of their first fast.
Maha’s Story: The Secret Sip of Water
Maha had always been in awe of her older siblings, watching them fast with unwavering patience. Now, it was her turn. She ate spoonfuls of yogurt as instructed by her grandmother, who swore it would keep her from feeling thirsty. But by mid-morning, the sun blazed mercilessly, and her throat felt dry like the cracked summer earth.
She lingered near the kitchen, staring longingly at the jug of water on the counter. No one would know, she reasoned. Just one sip.
But before she could reach for it, her younger brother walked in, eyes wide. “You’re not going to break your fast, are you?”
Shame filled her instantly, but so did determination. She shook her head, walking away with newfound resolve. That evening, when the Maghrib adhan finally rang out and she took her first sip of rose sherbet, it tasted sweeter than anything she had ever known.
Sania’s Story: The Temptation of Mangoes
For Sania, Ramadan arrived in the peak of summer, when mangoes were at their ripest. She spent her day in the courtyard, watching her cousins devour slices of golden fruit, their hands sticky with juice.
“Just a small bite,” one cousin teased, holding out a piece.
Sania hesitated. Would it really count if she didn’t chew?
But she remembered her mother’s words: A fast isn’t just about staying hungry—it’s about discipline, about devotion.
So she clenched her fists and turned away, focusing instead on the promise of the Iftar feast. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, she savored her first bite of mango like it was a reward for her patience. And in a way, it was.
Hina’s Story: The Longest Day
Hina was only ten when she attempted her first fast, but she swore the sun had never moved slower in the sky. By noon, she lay sprawled on the cool tiled floor, convinced she wouldn’t make it.
“I think I might faint,” she told her grandmother dramatically.
Her grandmother chuckled and pulled her close. “Then let’s pass the time with stories.”
And so, the afternoon became a journey through time—tales of prophets, of miracles, of the unseen blessings in hardship. The hunger didn’t disappear, but it became bearable.
When the Maghrib adhan finally called out, Hina felt a quiet pride settle in her heart. She had done it. Not just endured, but learned. And that made all the difference.
The First Step in a Lifelong Journey
For Maha, Sania, and Hina, that first fast was more than just a childhood milestone. It was a lesson in patience, in faith, in the beauty of shared struggle.
Years later, as grown women observing Ramadan in faraway lands, they often thought back to those early days—the thirst, the temptations, the whispered prayers. And every year, when the first fast arrived, they smiled to themselves, remembering the little girls who once thought the sun would never set, only to find that it always did—right on time.