Joining in the spirit of Ramadan

It was a warm Sunday, the beginning of another working week. Sid returned home from school looking paler than usual. I wondered if it was the rising temperature, another round of a viral infection or a concern at school. As an anxious mother’s racing imagination took over and a flood of questions were taking form, he handed me his snack box before dashing off to his room.

I felt the first hint of irritation seeping into my system when I noticed that his box had returned untouched. Sid is well aware that I have little tolerance for wastage of food, blame it on the years of listening to Father give a dramatic oration about the people who are not fortunate enough to get a square meal and those who could benefit from one wasted meal — a discourse that my son would have to endure by the end of the afternoon. There would be a sure mention of the effort that has gone into making his favourite snack that had been untouched.

He emerged from his room, changed and ready for lunch, a task that had been miraculously accomplished without a dozen reminders, a disarming smile pasted on his face as he pretended not to notice the look of disapproval etched on mine.

Little Princess was fast asleep so it was safe to give him a piece of my mind without having to hear her repeat after me, transforming the situation into a childish jape rather than a serious inquisition.

“So what is your excuse today?” I probed, my tone hinting a warning of the impending lecture.

“Can I tell you over lunch?” was his cheery response, as I endeavoured hard to keep up my demeanour without having his disarming smile dilute the situation.

As I watched him devour his lunch a little too unmannerly to my liking, he spoke between mouth-fulls. “I had to accompany a friend to the school clinic and by the time we returned recess was almost over. I was so looking forward to having my snack,” he paused as I listened to the pitiful excuse of a story that had been used several times in the past.

“It was then that I noticed that my classmates who are fasting were back after their prayers. Our teacher says it is rude, almost disrespectful for us to eat or drink in their presence.” I listened with renewed interest at the twist in his tale.

“I could have eaten but decided against it. Would it not be rude to munch on my favourite snack when he does not even drink a drop of water all day?” he continued nonchalantly, “I will have them for tea though,” he finished off genially.

I stared dumbfounded.

In this fast-paced world where our own interests often take precedence over the feelings of even our dear and near, it is nothing short of a blessing that little children, like him, take the advice of their teachers seriously and respect the religious sentiments of the country that they live in. It is true that we have reasoned and discussed about why those of us who do not fast refrain from eating in public and join in the spirit of Ramadan by engaging in charity and goodwill, yet I will happily give credit to the MEP (moral education programme) classes and the school for instilling in them the values of goodwill and compassion.

His selfless act brings back hope that all our efforts in raising children, who are not only on the road to building a successful career but base their milestones on the values that have been taught, have not gone in vain.

In the words of the Dalai Lama — love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.

As serenity and calm takes over in this month of fast and prayer, wishes for a peaceful and blessed Ramadan.

■ Pranitha Menon is a freelance writer based in Dubai.