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The lifafa culture and the materialistic desire to ‘earn’ more Eidee

Published: June 26, 2017

There has to be more to Eid than that stash of money the child tucks away.

Anybody who has grown up in Pakistan recognises that pretty lifafa (envelope) in pastel colours or in whites, embellished or plain, sometimes with just a name, at other times with loads of prayers written carefully. Inside, the coveted crisp notes and the smell of the currency printing press chemicals.

These notes give many a banker sleepless nights during the last two weeks of Ramazan, as clients are ready to both beg and intimidate bank officials for fresh notes. Fifty ya 100 walay (ones). Five hundred walay. 1,000 walay. Even 5,000 walay if the family is upper tier.

Getting eidi is the one time when we all enjoy feeling young because every one of us is younger than someone for the most part of our lives. When all those hands that used to give us eidi, the khala, nani and phupha are long gone, it starts to get lonely at the top.

While gifts are a part of Islamic culture and the exchange of gifts is encouraged in Prophetic traditions, eidi is a very specifically cultural manifestation of that in our region. It is that time of the year which children look forward to. As an expression of love and blessings from elders, it is a beautiful gesture.

But over time, something about eidi has changed. As purely money is involved, we see a certain materialism tainting this cultural tradition. The children of today are smarter than their yesteryear counterparts. They are not as interested in the wishes written on the lifafa. What they are interested in is the ceremonial adaab (salutation), and then running in a corner and quietly opening a bit of the envelope to peak in and see whether the currency is red, blue, or reddish-orange.

But then again, children are a reflection of what they observe their parents doing. Many parents, if not all, also take their child in the corner, ask what a certain relative gave, and return the money accordingly. The gesture has become more of a barter system.

While there is nothing wrong with enjoying the money we collect from elders, and it is in fact endearing to see children counting the money they get as eidi as an extended form of spending money, it is not in good spirit if that is all that the children are looking at.

The lifafa culture and this desire to ‘earn’ more has entered many a religious ceremonies. The Aameen ceremony (completion of the Holy Quran) and the Roza kushai (the first time a child fasts) have also become similar occasions where the focus has shifted from prayers and duas to money. The fault does not only lie with parents and children expecting eidi, as those at the giving end are too busy to go and buy gifts. Also, the eidi or lifafa usually cost less than the gift itself.

While money is a reality of life, such customs and attitudes of parents subliminally condition children to gauge people by monetary standards too soon. It is important to keep reminding the child that the one who could afford to give Rs100 only gave it with as much affection as someone who gave Rs1,000. There has to be more to Eid than that stash of money the child tucks away.

Instilling the right values on Eid may prove to be a challenge for parents. It is doable. But for that, attitudes of the parents would have to be up to the mark as well. Because when it comes to children, it is the parents that set the tone.

Seven common mistakes Pakistani women make at the masjid

It is wonderful to see more and more women in Pakistan, especially in urban centres, developing a flavour to be part of congregational worship at mosques (masaajid), especially for the taraweeh prayers in Ramadan, and Eid prayers. The prophet (pbuh) not only encouraged but directed women to be part of the Eid congregation in particular, so that they get a feel of collective worship and feel part of the extended community. Also, prayers said in congregation give us 27 times more reward according to authentic ahadith, which is a great incentive.

But while the trend has caught on, the adaab or the decorum of HOW to say our prayers collectively is missing, and causes problems. The men are very trained in the art of ba jama’at prayers since a young age, but women are mostly and unaware, and even resistant to being advised to do better.

badshahi

Here are seven common mistakes we make, pointed out in the hope that these ahadith will help us perform our prayers at the masjid correctly.

1. Row over the rows:

What basically is the purpose of congregational worship, when we can pray in the peace of our home as well? The purpose is to develop equality and a sense of community, which makes the spirit of sharing a must. But many women in Pakistan, new to the idea, do not know the adab of praying in rows. They insist upon bringing their own prayer mats that take up the space that could accommodate one and a half person. Thus, there are huge gaps between the women praying.

Narrated Anas bin Malik (RA): The Prophet (pbuh) said, “Straighten your rows for I see you from behind my back.” Anas added, “Every one of us used to put his shoulder with the shoulder of his companion and his foot with the foot of his companion.”

( Bukhari).

Foot close to your neighbour’s foot, shoulder close to your neighbour’s shoulder – that is the way. But we become so selfish that we are unwilling to make space for people who join in. Mosques that allow women are already limited in number. If everyone starts taking up too much space, fewer people will get the chance. How can one develop a feeling of equality or brotherhood if we don’t even share space? The Quran advises us:

“O you who have believed, when you are told, “Space yourselves” in assemblies, then make space; Allah will make space for you.” (58:11). Selfishness makes our worship worthless.

Another problem is that rows are not formed straight and properly.

An-Numan bin Bashir (RA) said, “Allah’s Messenger (pbuh) used to straighten our rows, as if he was straightening an arrow, until he saw that we had learned it. Then he came out one day and was about to say Takbir when he noticed a man whose chest was sticking out from the row. He said: Slaves of Allah! Make your rows straight or Allah will cause discord among you.”

(Sahih Muslim, Sunan Ibn Majah).

Another huge issue is that if someone leaves the jama’at for any reason in between prayers, or their are empty spaces in the front rows, women do not fill those spaces. They want to pray with their own sister, mom or friend. Thus, gaps remain.

Jabir bin Samurah (RA) narrated that Allah’s Messenger (pbuh) said, “Do you not (wish to) line up just like the angels line up in front of their Lord?” We asked, “And how do the angels line up in front of their Lord?” He said, “They complete (& fill-up) the first row, and they line up closely in the rows.”

( Sunan Abu Dawud, Sunan An-Nasa’i, Sunan Ibn Majah).

2. Not knowing how to move between rows when prayers are underway

To begin with, one must avoid to the fullest not to pass in front of someone in prayer. Especially  if someone passes in front of the one who is praying, i.e., in the area between the spot where he puts his forehead when he prostrates and where he stands, as the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) said: “If the one who passes in front of a person who is praying knew what (a burden of sin) he bears, it would be better for him to stand for forty rather than pass in front of him.”  (Bukhari, Muslim). 

However, in emergent situations, one has to, or in some situations wants to join prayers even if one has come in late.

In that situation, one can use what is called a “Sutrah” or a barrier. The size of the Sutrah is something over which opinions have differed. The hadith here gives an idea about the size.

And it was narrated that Talhah (may Allah be pleased with him) said: The Messenger of Allah (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) said: “If one of you puts something in front of him that is like the back of a saddle, then let him pray and not worry about anyone who passes beyond that.” (Narrated by Muslim.)

However, what if you one must pass through the rows and those praying do not have a Sutrah? The simple answer is that in that situation, pass through vertically, as the rows are formed horizontally. This way, one can avoid passing in front of the one praying.

3. Going into rukoo’ and sajda before the Imam

Ladies, what is the hurry? The Imam has barely begun saying “Allah u Akbar” and you are already in rukoo’ and sajda. Remember, the Imam is leading the prayer, so wait a few seconds till you are sure that he or she has gone ahead, and then follow. the same holds true for saying the salaam.

The Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) said:

“Surely the imam is there to be followed.” (Muslim)

So our actions should not precede the Imam’s.

4. Not knowing how to join the jama’at if the prayer has already started

Commonly, if the jama’at has started, women make their place in rows but start praying their own individual prayer that causes confusion to those close by. So here’s the thing: If you have joined in late and the prayer has already started, no problem. If you join in any raka’at at a time that you had the chance to join in for Surah Al-Fateha or recite it yourself, and the Imam had not yet gone in rukoo’, then you can count that raka’at in. What you simply need to do is that when the Imam says his/her salaam, you don’t say it and instead stand up and complete the raka’at you missed. In that case, it is possible that you end up saying at-Tahayyat even upto thrice if you, say, joined in the second raka’at. In that case, each time say your at-Tahayyat but say the rest of the duas in your last raka’at.

5. Fidgeting and rocking

It is true that it’s not easy to manage the scarves, that chadars and the dupattas that tend to slip off during prayers. So it is best to fix them properly before namaz starts so that one is not distracted during prayers.

Also, we women tend to rock forward and backward during prayers, especially if we are listening to a beautiful recitation of the Quran. Yet, composure is a must during prayers.

All unnecessary movements must be avoided. See this:

When the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) was asked about smoothing the earth before prostrating, he said, “Do not wipe it when you are praying; if you have to, then just smooth the gravel once.” ( Abu Dawud,  Saheeh al-Jaami’).

6. Scolding women with children

If your own children are now grown up, chances are that you have forgotten how tough it is, and how much a mother misses saying prayers peacefully. Yes, little kids can be a bother at mosques or even at a Quran study circle, but how will they observe and learn unless they come?

So merciful was the Prophet (pbuh) that he (pbuh) said:

“When I enter the prayer I intend to prolong it. Then I hear the crying of a child, so I shorten it knowing the difficulty his mother will have with him crying.” [Bukhari]

He never stopped mothers from bringing children to the mosque, neither did he ever stop mothers from coming themselves. However, mothers should realize their share of the responsibility and watch out if their children wander off or get out of control. But scolding little children by elder women leaves a very bad impact on the child’s mind who may become averse to mosques for life. Remember the hadith that says

“He, who does not show mercy to others, will not be shown mercy.” [Bukhari]

7. Not knowing how to say Takbeeraat during Eid prayers

There are additional Takbeeraat (saying Allahu Akbar) during the Eid congregational prayers.

The step by step directions to that can be found on the internet.

It was reported from ‘A’ishah: the Takbeer of (Eid) al-Fitr and (Eid) al-Adhaa is seven in the first rak’ah and five in the second, apart from the takbeer of rukoo’.

[ Abu Dawood; Ibn Majah ]

Best to ask the men in your house before you go, as they are mostly experts at it.

When one starts questioning the rituals of Eidul Azha

Published: October 6, 2014

The poor animals being slaughtered actually provide livelihood to millions of poor Pakistanis who wait eagerly for this Eid to sell off the cattle they have raised all year round. PHOTO: FILE

Eidul Azha in a rural set-up has jarring differences when compared to how we celebrate this Eid in cities. I live and celebrate my Eid in Karachi, but if I celebrate it in my ancestral village in Khairpur, Sindh, this is what would be different.

The animals would be much less expensive, much more readily available, and the sense of community in sharing the meat would be the focus. Less affluent neighbours and relatives will casually come to the house where an animal is sacrificed and ask candidly for a share of the meat. The ones giving it out will not look down on the ones asking for it. There are fewer formalities and lesser ego issues involved, something that urbane sensibilities take away.

But perhaps the best thing about celebrating this Eid in my village is that no one questions the ritual. In an urban, more “aware” world, we question everything. But when each religious ritual is questioned, its efficacy is doubted and its methodology is demeaned, we are actually getting ahead of ourselves. A classic example is what we here every year:

“Why not do away with this ritual of animal sacrifice?”

The reasons given are many. The fact that this ritual involves blood and “gore” and millions of poor animals end up losing their lives, and so the ritual is too violent. The fact that the stench, the organs, the blood (yes, the blood is a pet peeve) and the slaughter waste makes our entire cities abattoirs. And the most classic one is that the same money could be used to help the needy with their more urgent needs.

“Why not pay a poor child’s yearly school fee, rather than spending the same money on slaughtering a goat?”

The answers to above criticisms are quite simple, really.

The problem is not with so many animals being slaughtered, but with the fact that our cities in Pakistan are not equipped with the infrastructure to dispose the slaughter waste on this day, or any day actually. Our anger is misdirected at the ritual, whereas the problem lies with the lack of civic sense in our citizens in how they dispose the slaughter waste. Here, we stumble upon a bigger issue – the fact that being a good citizen that does not harm others is a basic tenet of Islam, but is sadly not seen as one. But just because people break traffic signals, we cannot stop using cars on streets. Similarly, the ritual cannot be done away with because of the fault of some.

The poor animals being slaughtered actually provide livelihood to millions of poor Pakistanis who wait eagerly for this Eid to sell off the cattle they have raised all year round. Try and explain to the shepherds who travel to Karachi from Tharparkar and to Lahore from villages in Rahimyar Khan that you think this ritual should be done away with. The reaction may surprise you.

What’s interesting is that most of the people criticising the ritual are avid meat-eaters all year round. It is not like they moved to being vegetarians and vegans. They love their ‘bong ki nihari’ and ‘mutton pulao’, but have a problem with this, giving reasons from environmental imbalance to being unkind towards nature.

The ritual is mandatory for those who can afford to sacrifice an animal. In today’s era of inflation, if a person can afford to spend on an animal’s sacrifice once a year, then that person can for sure spend on paying a child’s fee for school too. Why are the two things mutually exclusive? Why must I choose one?

But who are we kidding? The above given reasons, both for and against this ritual, are logical. And religion, worship, and most of all faith, cannot be explained by logic. Humans are innately selective in the logic they choose to strengthen what they already believe in.

Muslims, who unquestioningly carry on this ritual, or any ritual of faith, may have understood that salvation lies in trusting how the Mastermind has designed religion. He created us and He knows what works for us. Sitting and meditating is great but can never replace the five daily prayers. A nature hike may be great for your soul but can never have the effect that sa’ee between the perpetually overcrowded Safa and Marwa in the hot city of Makkah does. And if I spend money to help a needy (which I must, as charity is both a ritual and a purification exercise), it’s a great thing to do, but will not have the same effect as sacrificing an animal on this day.

In this act, I feel an affinity with that act of Prophet Ibrahim (AS). As someone who has genetic hemophobia and cannot stand the sight of blood, it’s not an easy ritual. But then, acts of love and leaps of faith never really are easy.  As mentioned in the Holy Quran, it is not the flesh or blood of animals that reaches Allah; it is your piety that reaches Him. The biggest part of piety is handing over one’s reigns to Allah, and saying, “You Know best”. Accepting one’s human limitations of understanding when compared with Divine wisdom – that, my friends, is the ultimate sacrifice.

Are Pakistani women clinically obsessed with clothes?

Published: July 29, 2014

The women of Pakistan, it seems, have found the reason as to why they were created – they were created to make, buy, sell, maintain, wear, show and love clothes. PHOTO: STOCK

Every evening after iftar they storm the streets in flocks, like contingent troops, with one and only one purpose alone – they want clothes, clothes and more clothes. The women of Pakistan, it seems, have found the reason as to why they were created – they were created to make, buy, sell, maintain, wear, show and love clothes.

And this sad obsession is across the board.

From lower middle income groups to the elite, they spend big chunks of their valuable time in bazaars and malls, and unanimously spend more than they afford. And Eid season sees this obsessive compulsive behaviour at its peak.

But then, can we really blame them?

At every turn of the head are billboards of women; beautiful, stick thin, photo shopped women, wearing dresses to kill.

The biggest viewership of Pakistan’s thriving morning show industry is women. Millions of Pakistani women, every morning, lap up the mostly unintelligent and fake conversations on these shows and take them as gospel truth. They also absorb each and every attitude and trend being presented by the baajis and even the bhaiyyas who are the hosts. Thus, they have started believing in a culture of collective gushing and adulation of people on the basis of what they wear, not who they are.

If they can afford the exact thing the host is wearing (even though hers might is most probably a borrowed dress – one that she will never wear again), they will get it from the same designer. If not, the women will use every ion of creativity God has given them to dojugaar and copy the design, almost flawlessly.

Women from the elite have their own issues. They are also obsessed with clothes. Only, the taste (acquired) and the social circles are different. They will kill themselves over clothes that are original, exclusive, subtle and elegant. They may not be as tacky as others and may look down upon other women, and ridicule their showy dress sense, but eventually they are equally consumed with the idea of the “I am what I wear” syndrome.

The only difference is, the elite do it in more innovative ways. They make politically and socially correct statements with their clothes if they are the activist types and use pure cottons, vegetable dyes and the works. If the social circle involves kitty parties and the trophy wives club, the style changes considerably.

Women see, breathe and dream clothes. It is no wonder then that not only is there a never ending demand for clothes, but also an incessant chain of supply in the form of dress ‘designers’; couture designers who have actually studied the art and also those who become designers by default – because… well it comes naturally to them after thinking about clothes 28 out of 24 hours a day. And then there are those who don’t really design anything but just have a darzi at home in the basement.

The problem is not with clothes. The problem is with the shift in values that is coming with it. Slowly but surely it is becoming such a big priority for women that the way they see themselves and others is changing.

I noticed this the other day when I caught myself not saying “you look very nice in this dress” to a friend, but saying “your dress is very nice”. The person was taken away from my compliment.

All that remained was the dress.

If women start viewing themselves in light of the praise their dresses get, they will continue to be preoccupied with their appearance. And this is an expensive preoccupation as well as time-consuming. I know families where a driver is employed for the sole purpose of taking baaji toGhousia market, Aashiyana and Raabi Centre.

Wardrobes are so important to females that in order to make unnecessary clothes that will keep hanging in their closets, untouched for a year, they want to earn and for that, voila, they become dress designers.

Being engrossed with clothes to a disturbing extent is an attitude that other women observe. If they cannot afford to do the same, there is an underlying resentment and unhealthy sense of competition in society. The more we raise the bar of our wardrobes, the more the economic disparity in our society.

While dressing well and looking good is actually an admirable thing, anything that crosses limits becomes toxic. Overdoing one thing means you will end up under-doing something equally or more important. The time one could spend reading, doing some form of community service, or spending unhurried moments with one’s family is spent getting exhausted, carrying bags and bags of stitched and unstitched fabric, and still worrying whether everyone will like it or not.

The next time you exhaust yourself over clothes, stop for a minute and think: Is this really worth it?

Women are naturally very good at time-management. And Pakistani women are an amazing potential work force for Pakistan. They are talented, intelligent and hardworking. If the time they put into clothes is utilised for other more productive things, it would make Pakistan a much happier place.

The spirit of Ramazan and then Eidul Fitr is all about taking away materialism from our hearts and reviving a culture of simplicity, giving and sharing.

It may be time to sit back and rethink what Eid is all about.

Are Pakistani women ready to go for Eid namaz?

By Farahnaz Zahidi Published: August 8, 2013

Maybe it’s time for the men to rethink; maybe it’s time Pakistani women head for Eid namaz in Pakistan. PHOTO: AFP

Once upon a time, Ammi used to have a list of exciting chores ready for her girls when Eid day arrived. This was the drill: Abba and brothers go for Eid namaz, and while they are gone, we, the women, had to make taaza (fresh) sheer khorma, change bed linen and table cloths (it was some family ritual, I think), get ready, pray the short Eid namaz at home, and be happily ready for the guys to return and give us Eidi.

On Bari Eid (Eidul Azha), a slight modification would be to get ready after the meat was distributed and done with; however, the rest remained the same.

It was all lovely. I am thankful that my mother made sure Eid was splendidly exciting for our family, and that we didn’t spend Eid morning catching up on sleep.

Just one thing was sorely missing in these otherwise lovely, fun family mornings of this most important festival. Like a majority of Pakistani women, we never went for Eid namaz.

We, culturally, do not think about traditions; we just follow them. Often, we don’t even know why we are doing a certain thing. We just do it because everyone else does. And so for the longest time, I never really questioned why we celebrated Eid. The emphasis was on the festivity and celebration, not on why it was such a big deal, just like we prepare for months and years for the wedding, not the marriage. Somewhere, the essence dwindles away.

That’s what my Eid was like for a long time.

Years later, a friend randomly invited me to come along with her on Eid namaz.

I could not say no because I knew by then through authentic prophetic traditions that the Holy Prophet (pbuh) had in fact strongly advised women to go for Eid namaz and join in the collective prayers of the festival.

And so I went.

It wasn’t easy the first time, in all honesty. My daughter was still young and it was winter time. Dragging a little child out of bed, getting her and myself ready early on Eid morning when your body is already sleep-deprived after a month of interrupted sleep – it wasn’t easy. Also, till then my family wasn’t so convinced this was something very important, which meant I had to drive down myself and find a parking outside a crowded mosque. However, am I glad I went. Since that day, I have never missed the opportunity unless there’s been a serious reason.

I found out what men enjoy there and women miss out on. Raising your hands multiple times till your ears and saying “Allahu Akbar” reminds one of why we are celebrating Eid in the first place. It is a celebration of the fact that this past month, we may have inched closer to our Creator. We may have become better human beings; we may have been forgiven this Ramadan; we may be starting with a clean slate and for that, we thank God and rejoice.

Women who go for Eid namaz regularly know that it is not just a spiritual but also a wonderful social experience. The feeling of togetherness and of a community that is swiftly fading in our fast-paced lives is revived. We greet those we know and we greet those we don’t know, and we don’t really care who makes the first move. We congratulate each other and set out with our families after that to eat, meet, greet and enjoy the blessings God has showered on us.

If you take away the Eid namaz from Eid, there is honestly a sense of disconnect between Ramadan and the rest of the year, starting on Chand Raat. We have this 30-day crash course in connection with the Divine, in charity, in prayers and in goodness, and suddenly, we switch all of that off on Eid morning.

Interestingly, many Pakistani women who have been going for taraweeh throughout Ramadan do not go for Eid namaz. More intriguing is how the same women who regularly go for Eid prayers when abroad do not do so when back home in Pakistan.

While a small but increasing number of Pakistani women are going for Eid namaz to mosques, a majority still don’t. The reasons are predictable; for one, not many mosques have that arrangement. Organisers of mosques will be more open to women’s wings in mosques if more women want to go.

Another reason is simple laziness and time management skills that need improvement. Women who don’t want to miss Eid namaz still make the sheer khorma and still change the linen in a ritualistic manner, but they do it a day before. It also boils down to a lack of awareness about the fact that yes, women are supposed to say their Eid namaz too, just like the men.

Talking of the men – they are often not used to the idea. They don’t mind if their lady was outshopping on Chand Raat till midnight, but will raise their brows quizzically if she says “I want to go for Eid namaz”.

Maybe it’s time for the men to rethink; maybe it’s time Pakistani women head for Eid namaz in Pakistan.

If you are a woman and do decide to go for Eid namaz this time, here are some of the places it will be held at:

  • Faisal Mosque, Islamabad
  • Jamia Masjid DHA, Sector J, Masjid Chowk, Lahore
  • Khalid masjid, Cavalry grounds, Lahore
  • Imambargah Yathrab, Phase 4, DHA, Karachi (For Fiqh-e-Jafria)
  • Ayesha Masjid, Khayaban-e-Ittehad, Karachi
  • Masjid Saad bin Abi Waqqas, Phase 4, DHA, Karachi
  • Quran Academy masjid, Seaview, Karachi
  • Gulistan-e-Anis, off Shaheed-e-Millat road, Karachi
  • Sada bahaar lawn, off Shaheed-e-Millat road, Karachi
  • Masjid Bait-us-Salam, Commercial Avenue, phase 4, DHA, Karach

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/18465/are-pakistani-women-ready-to-go-for-eid-namaz/

Waiting for the moon to shine

By Farahnaz Zahidi Published: August 1, 2011

 

Last year, sometime after Ramazan, I was at the Jinnah International Airport, on my way to Lahore. In the boarding lounge, I saw a bearded gentleman with a soft stance, waiting to board his flight too. He looked familiar and he also looked apologetic. I suddenly realized that this was the most popular face of Pakistan’s Ruet-e-Hilal (Moon sighting) Committee.

People sitting and standing around me also recognized this religio-celeb, and nudged each other, commenting on him.

“Yahee to hai jis kee wajha se Eid ka chaand raat ke gyara bej nazar aate ha.”

(He is the one because of whom the Eid moon is sighted at eleven in the night.)

“Inn ka jab dil chahta hai Eid kar dete hain, aur jub dil chahta hai tees rozay karwa dete hain”

(Whenever he wants, it’s Eid and whenever he wants, there are 30 fasts in the month of Ramadan).

And these were some of the more polite comments.

It seemed strange to me that the gentleman was being blamed for something he had no control over – and for a decision that is not unilaterally made by him. The decision is made by respected and renowned Islamic scholars, media personnel, meteorologists and telescopes on board.

But this happens every year, doesn’t it?

We dispute on dinner tables and we argue at work places over this issue.  It’s ironic how, Ramazan, the month of peace and tolerance and serenity,  begins with relentless bickering over the issue of whether the entire Muslim Ummah should “unite” by celebrating the advent of Ramadan and Eid-ul-Fitr and then Zul-Hajj and Eid-ul-Adha on the same days as Saudi Arabia or not.

Then there is the issue of whether scientific equipment should be relied upon, and the question of whether moon sighting should totally be done away with or not. And then follows the mockery of how the moon’s been sighted in Peshawar and that discussions on how a nation can ever progress if they don’t even celebrate Eid on the same day.

This issue (or non-issue) is a classic example of how the gulf between extremes is widening.

Fundamentalism and liberalism, perhaps, are two sides of the same coin and are coming from the same place. This widening  gulf results in polarization where no single group or party is willing to listen, understand and tolerate the opinion of the other.

Those who follow the moon sighting ritual are upset at the “modern” citizens who have given it up. The other side is forever squabbling about how this ritual is  responsible for pushing back the Muslims in time by about 1400 years.

Why, simply, can both views not co-exist in harmony?

Opening Facebook at the advent of Ramazan is interesting to say the least. An assortment of sarcastic retorts awaits in the form of status updates.

While they start with Ramazan Mubarak wishes, they inevitably end up commenting on this issue. I am concerned about the motive behind these comments.

What leads to the derision of each other’s viewpoint?

Is it a simple difference of opinion, which would be completely understandable? Or the inconvenience of not knowing it is Eid till the last moment?

Or is it peer pressure from the rest of the world which makes Muslims a tad bit apologetic (as usual) and wonder why their religious festivals are devoid of a semblance of discipline and is celebrated on not one but different days?

The latter two, to me, are not good reasons.

As a boring pacifist, my take on the issue is pretty simple. I am happy for both groups so long as they don’t disrespect the other’s viewpoint and don’t display a lack of tolerance. That does not mean I don’t have a very clear viewpoint of my own.

I rather enjoy not knowing till the end whether it is Ramazan or Eid the next day, or not.

I would not give up for anything the joy of rushing to the roof with my daughter, in anticipation and excitement, and reciting the supplication the Holy Prophet (pbuh) used to recite when he saw the moon. The sliver-like crescent that flashes a smile, informs us that it’s time to gear up for the spiritual detox month, and vanishes.

To me, this is actually a ritual that unites followers of a single faith beyond political boundaries. When a Muslim in Indian Punjab and a Muslim in Pakistan’s Punjab fast and celebrate Eid on the same day. But if some of my friends subscribe to another viewpoint, I will wish them a blessed Ramazan sans sarcasm and judgment. A Ramazan of worship, connection with Allah, forgiveness, mercy, sharing, charity and joy.

Enjoy Ramazan. Peace be upon you.

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/7290/waiting-for-the-moon-to-the-shine/