Worshippers offer prayers in a mosque with social distancing intact to avoid COVID-19 infection. Reuters
Tasnim Nazeer, The Independent
The month of Ramadan has started – but for the second year in a row, it will be a markedly different experience for many of us around the world.
Despite the relaxing of some restrictions in the UK, Muslims like myself still won’t be able to get together for “iftar” (breaking of the fast) or congregate for “tarawih” night prayers in the mosque in the way we used to.
In fact, the Muslim Council of Britain has issued special guidelines on what we can and can’t do this Ramadan – and it’s our duty that we all play a part in ensuring the safety of others and society at large. The British Islamic Medical Association (BIMA) has consulted a wide range of Islamic scholars and the opinion of the vast majority is that receiving a vaccine does not invalidate your fast.
Normally during Ramadan, me, my husband and kids would go to spend some time with my family in London. This would give me the opportunity to see my grandma – who is the only surviving grandparent I have – and my sister, as well as other relatives such as my aunties, uncles and cousins. We would normally all get together to break our fast, or be invited over for dinners. We also would send food to family, friends and neighbours to keep in the spirit of Ramadan.
Every year since I was young, I’ve looked forward to Ramadan as a time to get closer to God and to become a better version of myself. The holy month has played a pivotal role in my life in teaching me about gratitude, self-discipline and compassion through giving to charity and helping those in need in the community.
I remember thinking that last year was going to be a very difficult Ramadan, as it fell in the peak of the pandemic and the first national lockdown restrictions – but it was actually one of the best I’ve ever had. Having moments of solitude without the normal hustle and bustle of getting ready for iftar dinners gave me more time to spend on my own spirituality.
But what I do miss about a “regular” Ramadan, like the ones we had pre-Covid, is seeing my parents. Ramadan is normally a time of togetherness, but I haven’t seen my parents or the rest of my family for a year. I live in Scotland, with my husband and five kids. My parents live in London – and we miss them dearly.
It used to be that I would come down during Ramadan to visit my family and enjoy breaking the fast with them. Nothing beats my dad’s signature Sri Lankan Ramadan soup and the smell of my mum’s freshly-made sweets to end the day, right before prayers.
From a young age, I would wake up early in the morning and hurry downstairs, looking forward to seeing what was being prepared in the kitchen – and I was always surrounded by family. Now, my children do the same thing; but we don’t have the blessing of our extended loved ones around us to share the joy.
Covid restrictions have also meant that this Ramadan we are unable to go for night prayers at the mosque, a ritual that we would do every Ramadan shortly after breaking our fast. Ramadan is normally a time where we congregate with the community for special night prayers – I miss the atmosphere of the community getting together. It’s Ramadan – but without the normal social element that brings people together.
I know I’m not alone in feeling this way: many families celebrating all different kinds of festivals since the start of the pandemic have not been able to spend it with their loved ones. It’s sad – but the easing of lockdown restrictions has given me hope that better days are ahead.
I am sure there are many people, like me, who are eagerly waiting for the day when they can hug their parents and grandparents – but on this holy month of Ramadan, I’ll be reflecting on those who have lost their loved ones to Covid, and won’t see them again. It’s hard, but I’m one of the lucky ones.
After a year in which so many lives have been lost, I’m so much more grateful for the life I have. And after months of restrictions, I won’t ever take for granted the freedoms we have, our health and the time we have yet to spend with those we love.
Why on earth would you move to London right now? The pandemic has contributed to an exodus from the capital and other big cities, with many seeking bigger open spaces and a better quality of life now that there is no need to be in town for work or play.
After the pandemic forced the closure of gyms last year, I was one of the many people who decided that it was the perfect opportunity to start running for my mental health. As Bella Mackie’s influential book Jog On proves, running can help to
You’re vaccinated. They’re not. When visiting, is it safe to toss the tiresome mask? Perhaps. There’s growing evidence that vaccines not only save lives, but can stop or greatly slow spread of the COVID-19 virus — portending a day when we can see
We used to be told in our moral science classes in school and college that they who give never fall short. And prosperity greets them at every step by way of divine payback. That’s so true. The journey, our mortal journey, indeed becomes a rare pleasure and much more
Only a handful of places — including Taiwan, Vietnam and New Zealand — acted in time to contain the coronavirus last year, causing the world to spend trillions of dollars fighting an infection that has led to the deaths of more than 3 million people so far.
Almost 70 years ago, President Dwight Eisenhower pushed bipartisan legislation that created the interstate highway system. Earlier leaders made universal access to education, starting with kindergarten and running through high school, standard throughout the United States.
Boris Johnson has shelved plans to travel to India for his first major overseas visit since entering Downing Street. India’s devastating COVID crisis rendered a prime ministerial visit aimed at boosting trade both unfeasible and unsuitable. But the prime minister should