If Islam is the religion of over one billion people, roughly one-sixth of humanity, Bangladesh houses a sizeable percentage of them on its soil. It ranks fourth on the list of nations with Muslim populations, preceded by Indonesia, Pakistan and India. Nearly 90% of the population here are of Islamic faith and an overwhelming majority of those are of Sunni denomination.
It is little wonder then that the month of Ramadan – ninth in the Islamic calendar – holds a special place in the hearts of the Muslims of this country. Despite having the garb of a “moderate” Muslim nation with secularism as one of the four founding pillars of its constitution, Bangladesh has Islam deeply rooted in its culture, in its veins. Islam influences it in a way that no other religion or institution does, and controls the way public decisions are made or unmade.
There are many who talk about a declining popularity and even acceptability of religious norms and practices these days – an idea often supported with updated records of criminal behaviour and statistics on recidivism. These figures are presented to reinforce the ideas of “moral decadence” and growing “religious dissidence” in society.
However, while the issues remain debated in the contemporary theological discourse, as far as performing rites and prayers are concerned, people are no less religious now than they used to be 20-30 years ago. There is a greater number of houses of worship now – mosques, churches, temples, monasteries, seminaries. More people now queue up at the Royal Embassy of Saudi Arabia to obtain a visa for the two holiest cities for Muslims – Makkah and Madinah – to perform Hajj or Umrah.
The same can be said of the holy places and shrines of other religions too. More and more funds are being pumped into religious missions and projects for the purpose of preaching. The physical expansion of religion, at least on the face of it, is evident across the globe. Going by this line of thought, one would be hard-pressed to deny the influence that religion has over our life and society.
In Bangladesh, where religious and social customs are primarily based on Islamic principles, Ramadan holds a special place because it has a unifying effect on the people of any faith and any class. But I will come to that point later.
In this month of fasting, it would perhaps be an opportune moment to reflect on the way Ramadan is viewed and observed in the world’s second most populous Muslim nation and more importantly, the way it impacts people’s lives.
First, a few words about the “violent” start of this year’s Ramadan. The country, in recent times, witnessed an unprecedented wave of chaos and violence breaking on its shore, following the start of a highly divisive trial on the crimes committed during the 1971 war of liberation. It became quickly divided into two sides: one supporting the trial terming it a “fundamental necessity” and the other opposing it, fearing politically motivated verdicts.
With the political parties throwing their weight behind the two fronts, armed with their own sets of agenda, the situation became too murky to allow any sane and rational thinking. Scores of precious lives were lost in the process.
However, Ramadan came with the promise to put an end, if temporarily, to the past months’ hue and cry and trial-triggered aftershocks. It was expected that things would slow down a bit and all parties involved would behave responsibly. It didn’t happen.
The war crimes tribunal, which delivered four verdicts in the first six months of the year preceding Ramadan – having started the trial proceedings over four years ago in 2009 – delivered two verdicts in three days alone, in its very first week. Independent analysts called it an “ill-timed coincidence,” but trial opponents censured the move as “a deliberate attempt” intended to cash in on the holy occasion.
But what the latter did instead to vent their anger and frustration – setting off a fresh round of unrest and agitation – wasn’t seemly for a holy occasion either.
This Ramadan may have had the worst start in the country’s recent past, politically speaking, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that there are certain things that make Ramadan special, regardless of intervening disruptions.
Iftar
There is a sense of universal brotherhood embedded in the rites and rituals of iftar, and in the way hospitality is extended towards the unfed. People of different faiths and people with no faiths are treated equally in a spirit of bonhomie. Iftar, in Bangladesh, is as much a religious occasion as it is a social one.
At the newspaper office where I work, we have colleagues coming from all kinds of faiths and descents. There are Muslims, of course, as well as Hindus, Christians, Buddhists – people of mixed race and of distinct tribal backgrounds. Split in separate groups formed section-wise, we have our iftar meals as soon as the muezzin’s melodious call to prayer (Maghrib adhan) is aired. It doesn’t happen at our office only. A similar situation is seen in many other offices too.
Out on the streets and pavements, you see people who have no past acquaintance of any sort but still exchange mutual invitations for iftar, prepared with greasy food items bought from makeshift iftar shops and served either on plates or spread newspaper sheets. The only thing they and Muslims all over the world have in common is perhaps the dates, imported mostly from the Middle East – and usually eaten in threes in emulation of Prophet Mohammad (peace be upon him). That aside, food prepared for breaking the fast are predominantly indigenous.
Restaurants and food outlets prepare special meals and desserts for iftar, and even for sehri of late, as a growing number of people now prefer eating from roadside takeaways for a change. Political parties, in a rather perfunctory display of fraternity, host iftar parties, in which they invite both their allies and adversaries. To the general public, however, these parties mean little and are half-hearted attempts aimed to bring political stalwarts on a single podium – and have them snapped together!
What amazes a foreigner, however, is the making of “exotic” dishes that typify a Bengali fast-breaking celebration. A trip to the Chawk Bazaar or Kaptan Bazaar in the old part of the capital will confirm that. The two places are noted for serving savoury iftar delicacies, including Boro Baper Polai Khai (a famous Dhakaite chicken cocktail, literally meaning “What sons of well-off fathers eat”), lip-smacking kebabs and caramelised golden jilapis to name a few. They are put on display in open-air food stalls or the numerous shops lined side by side in long rows.
Sehri
Sehri makes the start of something that iftar ends – a daylong abstinence from food, drinks, and sexual intercourse. It is the last meal before a Muslim gets to start his or her fast. What typifies a Bengali way of sehri? Is there anything distinctive about this “optional” observance of Ramadan?
Generally speaking, iftar or fasting is nothing exclusive to Islam, but sehri is. All major religions like Christianity, Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism and Sikhism prescribe fasting and iftar (to mean ending the fast) in one form or another. Even, believers in less-followed Jainism, Taoism and Bahá’í faith observe fast for a certain period and break it at the day’s end – either before sunset, during or after.
But none of these religions have sehri as such. In Islam, it is not “compulsory” for a Muslim to have food in the early hours, but it is highly advisable that one does. In the religious jargon, sehri was termed as a Sunnah – something the Prophet (peace be upon him) set a precedent for himself doing. Muslims eat and do niyaat (make their intention for fasting known to Allah) before the call to Fadr prayer is announced. The fast commences about five minutes before that call. While Bangladeshi Muslims observe this rite quite religiously, there is one particular thing that deserves a mention.
In many neighbourhoods in Dhaka, especially in the older part of it, there are always some people who decidedly wake a little before others do. They take it upon themselves to wake early so as to wake everyone else up for sehri. To that end, what they do is take to the streets, walk in groups, bang their fists or sticks on gateways as they march forward, and spread the wakeup call. The message is loud and clear for everyone to hear: Get up, get up, and get up. Your time to sleep is up, now it’s time for sehri!
These groups are usually formed by members of local youth clubs, though anyone can volunteer regardless of age. Each group consists of 10-15 volunteers, armed with double-sided drums slung over their necks, or flutes, or whistles, or tinplates, or anything capable of making loud sounds. In the quietude of night, they make their rounds of the alleys, lanes and street corners through the sleepy neighbourhood.
In India, and Bangladesh too, there are certain places where sirens and trumpets are blown to signal the approaching time of an iftar. But these techniques are more effective before sehri. In many railway stations, mosques, fire service offices and mills in Bangladesh, sirens are blown with the perceived start of the sehri time. It happens usually one hour before the muezzin’s call to Fadr prayer. In some places, especially in the countryside, school bells are rung.
These techniques, however, are not greeted as heartily in uptown neighbourhoods where people prefer discretion and tranquillity. They are more inclined to do things on their own. Night guards can blow whistles alright, but anything more than that is discouraged. But the most common type of wake-up call is that which comes from the mosques by the muezzin or the imam (prayer leader) or a third person. They, using microphones, exhort people to prepare for sehri, conduct their niyaat and stop eating when the time is up. Whilst saying all these, they, intermittently, recite verses of the holy Quran and sing devotional songs.
Changes during Ramadan
The holy month of Ramadan has profound implications, some of which I would try to reflect on below. Ramadan heralds various changes – both spiritual and physical – in the society, ranging from daily schedules to patterns of conduct. Its influence is profound and all-inclusive.
To begin with, major government and non-government schedules are reorganised in light of the spirit of the month. Most schools and colleges – private and public – are closed in the first week of the month. They reopen only after Eid-ul-Fitr.
Some institutions may push back their closing time to the second week, given the challenges of meeting exam deadlines. Universities, on the other hand, have no option but to go for a shorter vacation, but they will invariably have their timetables rescheduled in order to conform to the changing needs of time.
Office-goers have shorter hours to work. Transaction hours in banks and non-bank financial institutions are cut short. With these changes, the society also learns to adapt itself to a few changes of its own. Fasting is held in such high esteem in the country that eating, drinking and smoking, between dawn and sunset – in public view – are done without.
One may risk being chastised for doing these things, with a faster looking on. This is not to mean that Ramadan, a religious occasion of the majority of people, imposes restrictive measures on the religious minorities. It is just that believers in other faiths are expected to return the same gesture of courtesy and openheartedness that they are shown during their respective occasions.
That said, the kind of interfaith harmony seen in Bangladesh can be an example for countries seized with ethnic and religious tension. Especially, during these thirty or so days, Muslims are nudged into reaching out to their non-Muslim counterparts and driving home the message of love and unity – which is at the core of the Islamic faith.
The spirit of Ramadan
It is not without reason that fasting is viewed as the most important of all physical ibadahs (worships) in Islam. Fasting is viewed as so not because of its being a strenuous physical exercise, but because of what comes along with it. For one, you cannot fake it. You cannot, and do not, pretend to be fasting as you have only yourself to be accountable to. Either you exercise restraint or don’t – there is no middle ground in between. With fast, however, comes a whole array of responsibilities that take it to a whole new level – which are primarily the reasons it is so important.
Fasting teaches you to strive for moral and spiritual attainment. Through the physical exercise of restraint, your efforts should be directed to purging yourself of envy, falsehood, malevolence, pettiness, selfishness, greed, evil-speaking, and all that drives you off the path of enlightenment.
Fasting teaches honesty, tolerance, moderation, humility, truthfulness, discipline, punctuality, dutifulness and all that makes a man a “balanced individual.” Jakat (obligatory almsgiving) and Sadqa (charitable giving) – traditionally given during Ramadan – underline the importance of distribution of wealth in creating a balanced society. The Prophet (peace be upon him) highly recommended helping those in need in this month, which only strengthens the idea of charity in general.
Likewise, Taraweeh (prayer) and Itakaf (reclusion) are of crucial importance and both have important messages to deliver. None of the two rituals are compulsory, contrary to popular belief, but given the persistence of the Prophet (peace be upon him) on saying the post-Isha special prayers and the self-imposed retreat from daily life through Itakaf – it is understandable that they have high spiritual values.
To conclude, I must say what was perhaps said over and over before: if you want to have the full benefits of Ramadan, a perfunctory association with its rituals is the last thing you should do. Ramadan is not just a bunch of do’s and don’ts. It is more. It demands full awareness of its values and messages, and people who are fasting are expected to keep its spirit alive all year long.
