“The Ramadan Table: A Nostalgic Look At The Dishes And The People Who Gathered For Iftar In Years Gone By.”
The Ramadan Table: A Nostalgic Look at the Dishes and the People Who Gathered for Iftar in Years Gone By
As the sun began to set, casting a soft golden light across the room, Sana carefully placed the final dish on the Iftar table—a steaming bowl of fruit chaat—before taking a moment to breathe in the familiar aromas filling the air. She glanced over at her younger brother, Omar, who was setting the glasses for rooh afza with a slight frown.
Doesn’t feel like Ramadan this year,” Omar said quietly, adjusting the glass to make sure it was perfectly aligned. “I miss how we used to do Iftar back home.”
Sana paused, looking at her brother. “I do, too. I remember the days when Iftar wasn’t just about food; it was about family, togetherness, and the memories we created around the table.”
Omar raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Apa. You mean all those times you’d get mad when I’d sneak food before Maghrib?”
Sana laughed, rolling her eyes. “I was just trying to keep you from eating everything before it was time! But yes, those were the days. Let me take you back to those Ramadan tables we used to have.”
The Dishes That Defined Our Iftar
Sana smiled, her eyes drifting to the array of dishes on the table. “You remember the samosas, don’t you?”
Omar nodded, already salivating. “Of course! Those crispy, golden triangles stuffed with spicy potatoes. Amma used to make them from scratch, and they were always so perfect.”
Sana’s smile deepened. “Yes, Amma’s samosas were famous! But it wasn’t just the samosas. There was also pakoras, chana chaat, fruit chaat, and, of course, dates. Every dish was made with love, and it brought the whole family together. Everyone had a role: Amma would be in the kitchen, busy making the main dishes, while we would be setting the table, filling it with as many little bowls as possible.”
Omar laughed, “And Abba would always come in last, saying, ‘Is everything ready? I’m starving!’”
“Exactly!” Sana chuckled. “Abba was always the first to sit down, eager to break his fast with everyone. The sound of him cracking open that first date was like a signal to the whole family—it was time to start.”
The Rituals of Family and Togetherness
Sana’s thoughts wandered to the faces that used to surround their Iftar table. “Do you remember our cousins visiting every evening? And how everyone would gather, even the extended family, all sitting around the big table?”
Omar’s eyes softened. “Yeah, khala, mama, and even nana-nani would come over. It was always so noisy, but in a good way.”
Sana’s voice grew warm with nostalgia. “It was more than just the noise, though. There was something about being together like that, feeling the love and the connection. We’d all make du’a together before breaking our fast, and after that, the chatter would begin—people catching up, telling stories, laughing about the funniest things.”
Omar’s face lit up. “And then there was always that one moment when everyone would say, ‘**Tasharif le aaiye, chai toh piyenge!’”
Sana laughed, her heart full. “Yes, chai was the final touch, wasn’t it? No matter how full we were, Abba would always make sure there was tea after every Iftar. And those little moments—sipping tea, watching everyone talk, and feeling at home—that was what made Ramadan special.”
The Iftar Table: More Than Just Food
Sana shifted her gaze to the table before them. “You know, even though we’ve grown up and things have changed, this table will always remind me of those days. It wasn’t just about the food; it was about the love and the time we spent together. And the sharing. Everyone would bring something to the table, whether it was the dessert or the fresh fruit. We never ate alone.”
Omar nodded, his expression serious. “I feel that. These days, it’s easy to eat in front of a screen and miss out on all of this—the conversations, the laughter, the closeness. I guess it’s just the way things are now.”
Sana smiled gently, placing a hand on his. “True. But we’re still carrying on the tradition, aren’t we? We’re here, sharing a meal. That’s what counts. Maybe we can’t replicate the exact feeling of those past Ramadans, but we can create new memories, right here.”
Omar looked at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re right, Apa. And maybe one day, we’ll tell our own kids about our Ramadan table.”
Sana grinned. “And they’ll hear about Amma’s samosas, the sound of Abba cracking open a date, and how we used to laugh about the weirdest things. We’ll carry those stories with us, even if we’re not all sitting around the table anymore.”
As the sun set fully, the adhan called in the distance, marking the end of another fast. Sana and Omar sat together, the familiar dishes on the table offering a taste of the past, as they shared stories, laughter, and the hope of continuing their family traditions for years to come.