have mercy

reflections on ramadan - 2026

Ramadan arrives when we need it most, or perhaps we wait for Ramadan to arrive in order to finally surrender ourselves.

This is a reminder that this month is not only for the ones who are “ready” for it, but for those who are wildly distracted with matters of this world, who are tired and restless at the same time, who don’t know what to do at Ramadan’s doorstep. It is for those who show up. It is for the sincere, for only Allah swt can truly judge a person.

This Ramadan, I find my heart is tugging me towards the virtue of solitude. What we cannot find in the company of others, we will surely find in the company of Allah swt. In pangs of isolation, I choose to believe that I am being divinely set up to dig deeper within myself for what I am looking for elsewhere. I sit here late at night (because I broke my fast with a cafe miel), with only my refrigerator light and a flickering candle, and I think.

I think about how my forehead feels in sujood. I think about how sometimes, it is uncomfortable. The thick carpet digs into my skin. But after a few minutes pressed up against the floor, all I can ponder upon is how small I am in the grand scheme of everything. I remember how insignificant my daily anxieties are, like the itchy carpet, messes to clean, and work to do. I am reminded that there are few truly important things in this life and how those often go untended to. My piggy bank of duaas has become full now that Ramadan has returned, and suddenly it must be cracked open. Suddenly, they are pouring out of me, and I forget about my physical body entirely. If I could describe the feeling of nothing, it would be the way I feel during sujood when the dunya (all of my trivial worldly desires, problems, weaknesses, and lack of clarity) finally catches up to me. I feel nothing in my body, and far too much in my brain, until my eyelids forcefully flutter open as my forearms begin to give in to the weight of my upper body. Everything feels so much lighter, like birds flying off my backbone. The piggy bank is empty again.

Whether or not my prayers are answered now, or in another life, does not matter as much as the fact that I finally regained that moment of lucidity where I remember what my purpose truly is & what it is not.

It is surreal to feel an emotion so far within your chest, that you forget about your tangible existence. It is nothing, but everything all at once.

I think of all the ways I could be a better person, and the list has no end. That’s natural, isn’t it? Realizations are important, but we need to bring them to the other side of consciousness.

I find most chit chat over iftar tables to be condemnatory towards everyone but oneself. How peaceful would the world be if the hypercritical were to turn their habits onto themselves. How must we find ways to put realizations into action, to be better people? On our personal prayer mats, alone with our Lord, away from eyes and ears. When productivity is on display, it holds little depth. It is so hard to have conversations of discipline and faith with yourself, much more taxing than it is to pretend like you are perfect to the outside world. Choose the harder route, I want to believe it is simpler once you are a couple of miles in.

I found an abundance of faith in realizing that I can stumble into Ramadan, I do not have to stroll effortlessly through its doors. A meal-prepped suhoor and a daily lecture series are not the only ways to maximize the month. I will come upon what I was meant to find during the month of mercy, at any rate. I have found quite a lot already, sitting here alone in complete silence on night 6.