Time flies when you’re busy. And work flies when you’re fasting. Brain less hyperactive.
Naturally, my parents were not happy when I became Muslim.
But that was then. Yesterday, my father wished me a blessed fast.
This Ramadan, if the Most Merciful wills, we shall take a trip down memory lane to spend time in mosques we frequented in earlier years.
Suleymaniye in Hackney, where we performed our nikah and walima.
Aziziye in Stoke Newington, above the restaurant and shops we used to often visit.
West Ealing, formerly a ten minute walk from our tiny flat.
Regent’s Park, where we used to spend weekend afternoons.
Will the kids appreciate these trips down memory lane? Probably not! But perhaps they will appreciate a change of scenery and a different flavour of faith.
We are not Pakistani, but in so many localities, it is as if this is what we must become. Inshallah, these Ramadan travels will expose our kids to the cosmopolitan tradition we embraced.
May God bless our month of fasting and prayer, and let it be a renewal for us all.
Your wealth and your children are but a trial for you, and with God is a great reward.
Long, long ago, I believed that if I treated others well and were kind to them, they would reciprocate.
Of course, I learned the hard way that this is rarely so.
But I suppose this wishful thinking still colours my naive approach to international politics.
“If only my brethren would conduct themselves with impeccable ethics, the strong nations would not gather around to trounce them.”
Of course, we know this is not true. Even if they had perfect behaviour, predatory nations would still invent a pretext to ravage them.
Watch how innocent men are slandered by every newspaper in the land as terrorists just because they can, without consequence.
In the end, there is little any can do to repell those who intend to cause corruption in the earth. No kindness seems capable of reaching the hard-hearted.
I would like to work in a team of competents. Do such teams exist?
I wish I had the courage to go out into the world, to find my place amongst people who know what they’re doing.
But here I am, instead, picking up slipshod work, quietly correcting sloppy mistakes, day after day.
If only I had put down firm foundations.
There’s an intriguing contrast in how different spiritual traditions approach the concept of fasting and religious discipline.
Some communities are particularly vocal in articulating their disdain for fasting as a worthless ritual practice, while simultaneously requiring adherents to observe what many outsiders would consider ritual practices themselves.
At first glance, criticisms of fasting alongside emphasis on maintaining certain visible symbols of faith might seem inconsistent. However, this apparent contradiction actually seems to be rooted in distinct understandings of ritualism and discipline within various thought traditions, each with their own internal coherence and spiritual logic.
There are those who argue that fasting is a hollow ritual if practised merely for religious merit rather than for a meaningful purpose. Some spiritual teachings stress the importance of internal devotion, ethical conduct, and self-discipline over external rituals that lack spiritual intention.
From their perspective, depriving oneself of food does not inherently bring one closer to God or improve one’s moral character. Instead, continuous remembrance of the divine, honest labour, and service to others are encouraged as more meaningful practices.
Yet, at the same time, certain visible symbols of faith are considered essential for adherents of this view, as they serve as constant reminders of spiritual values and commitment to discipline. Unlike fasting, which some view as an arbitrary act of self-denial, these symbols are seen as an active, lived expression of faith that shapes daily conduct and identity.
From an Islamic standpoint, most Muslims would reject the characterisation of fasting as mere ritualism, viewing it instead as a profound practice of self-discipline and spiritual purification.
In Islam, fasting during Ramadan is not simply about abstaining from food and drink but encompasses a holistic restraint of desires, refinement of character, and strengthening of one’s connection with God.
Sawm (fasting) represents a form of embodied worship designed to cultivate sabr (patience), shukr (gratitude), and compassion for those less fortunate. The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, taught that fasting is a shield, protecting the believer from harmful actions and speech.
Far from being an empty ritual, it serves as a spiritual reset—a month-long immersion in taqwa (God-consciousness) that is meant to influence behaviour throughout the entire year.
Of course, various traditions have developed sophisticated theological frameworks that distinguish between meaningful religious practice and empty ritualism.
Some traditions view ritualistic practices critically when divorced from genuine spiritual engagement, while emphasising disciplined living with conscious intention as the ideal.
In Islamic thought, the concepts of niyyah (intention), ikhlas (sincerity), and khushu (mindful humility) are crucial in distinguishing meaningful worship from mere mechanical performance of rituals. Scholars emphasise that the outward form must be accompanied by inward spiritual presence.
This contrast highlights a potential challenge for mutual understanding between different perspectives.
Muslims may perceive critiques of fasting as misunderstanding a practice that, within Islam, represents not an empty ritual but a deeply transformative spiritual discipline with profound effects on the individual and community.
Those who question fasting may view the emphasis on prescribed practices like fasting as potentially prioritising form over substance, while Muslims would counter that the form itself, when approached with proper intention, facilitates spiritual growth.
What makes this comparison particularly fascinating is how different traditions embody religious commitment.
Some traditions uphold visible symbols as daily, tangible markers of discipline and commitment, serving as reminders of one’s spiritual covenant and values of courage, equality, and service.
Muslims, meanwhile, uphold fasting as an annual, intensive period of heightened discipline that recalibrates the spiritual compass, reinforces community bonds, and deepens awareness of divine presence in daily life.
Each tradition has developed distinct approaches to embodying religious commitment. The emphasis on continuous, visible identity markers in some traditions and the Muslim focus on intensive seasonal worship may both represent valid paths to spiritual discipline—they simply define “meaningful discipline” in different ways based on their historical contexts and theological foundations.
Despite these differences, many spiritual traditions share fundamental values: the importance of self-restraint, remembrance of God, service to humanity, and the rejection of empty ritualism. Various traditions emphasise that external practices should reflect and reinforce internal spiritual states.
Understanding these nuances can help foster greater respect between communities. What might appear contradictory from the outside often has a coherent internal logic when viewed through the lens of each tradition’s unique spiritual framework.
Through interfaith dialogue that acknowledges these different approaches to ritual and discipline, communities might discover unexpected parallels in their spiritual journeys, even as they maintain their distinct religious identities. Now, that would be progress, wouldn’t it?
This week marks the beginning of a significant season of fasting for many around the world.
Ramadan will commence at the weekend for Muslims, Eastern Christians will observe the start of Lent on Monday (Clean Monday), and Western Christians on Wednesday (Ash Wednesday).
The convergence of these fasting traditions is rare, occurring again next year but then not aligning for some time due to differences in calendars.
Amongst Christians in the West, Lent is often associated with the idea of giving something up—many people are familiar with the question, “What are you giving up for Lent?” Yet fasting, in its various religious expressions, is about far more than abstaining from certain foods or habits.
For Muslims observing Ramadan, fasting means refraining from food and drink during daylight hours. Orthodox Christians, on the other hand, abstain from specific foods, including meat, dairy, oil, and wine, for the entirety of Lent.
However, the essence of fasting is not merely about deprivation but about drawing closer to God and creating space for spiritual and personal growth.
Beyond food, fasting also extends to our behaviour and mindset. It is a time to step away from actions that create distance between ourselves, our Creator, and others. It is a period of reflection, self-discipline, and humility.
Through fasting, individuals confront their limitations, strengthen their resilience, and cultivate a spirit of gratitude. Additionally, this season emphasises selflessness, encouraging acts of charity, whether through financial contributions, sharing skills, or offering time to those in need.
Because fasting is deeply spiritual, the most meaningful way to extend good wishes to those observing it is by offering blessings. This is reflected in common greetings such as “Ramadan Mubarak” and “Blessed Lent.”
Regardless of whether we are fasting ourselves, may this season inspire us all to be a source of kindness and support to one another. God bless!
I’m a terrible dad. I told the kids not to talk at me. Explained how conversations are supposed to work. Asked for dialogue instead of monologue. Reminded them it’s okay to pause for breath, or fill the space between us with silence.
A better dad would have stopped what he was doing, turned his entire body towards them, and engaged fully with what they were saying. Yes, even if it was the exact same conversation talked at him yesterday. A better dad would have vanquished his own ego to listen again.
But this grumpy dad just skulked away to seek refuge in the quiet of another room. Maybe next time, I’ll be a better dad, ready to listen to their supersonic thoughts.
People are always very open with how they feel about my work.
Usually, that’s some negative adverb expressed in strong terms.
I used to take it personally, but not so much anymore.
For those expressing these strong opinions are usually part of sprawling teams, sharing a load.
Whereas mine is a singular role in an organisation of hundreds of teams and several thousand staff.
So I’ve come to accept that there are limits to the impact I can make as just one person.
Try as I may, I can’t please everyone. Criticism is easy. Making a difference is the real test.
Pity the poor racists confused by the growing Latin American communities in the UK. Need to come up with some new material.
In life, we are tested by whatever our hearts attach to.
Why do the turkeys keep on voting for Christmas?
Alas, the online algorithms favour bombastic extroverts, such that those humble voices of nuance and reason are perpetually drowned out. Who hears the quiet sage?
