– Maryam Imbisat
The scent of simmering gravy and fresh lemonade fills our homes as we gather for Iftar. Prayers are whispered, tables are set, and all eyes remain fixed on the clock, waiting for that sacred moment to break the fast. Yet, beyond these warm gatherings and abundant meals, millions across the world endure a far harsher reality – one of empty stomachs, parched throats, and roofless shelters. From war-ravaged lands to poverty-stricken neighbourhoods, these lives remain trapped in a cycle of deprivation and oppression.
“Ramadan has come to devastated Gaza. While the rest of the world embarks with a festive mood on a month of fasting and prayer, we do so with grief and sorrow.
“The echoes of war still ring loud. There is no certainty that this ceasefire will last. People are anxious about what happens next. They fear the war may come back.”
(Esraa Abo Qamar)
As we take our first bite after a long day of fasting, we must not forget those for whom hunger is not a choice but a lifelong sentence. From the slums of India and Pakistan to the besieged homes of Gaza, from Sudan’s conflict zones to the forgotten refugee camps of Syria and Yemen, millions have no food to break their fast. For them, fasting has no beginning and no end – it is their daily existence.
The crisis is not one of scarcity but of neglect. The world produces enough food to feed everyone, yet hunger persists because of inequality, conflict, and systemic failures. According to the United Nations World Food Programme, over 345 million people worldwide face acute food insecurity, with war and economic instability pushing more into desperation.
Prayers and invocations are powerful, but they must be accompanied by action. Ramadan is not just a test of self-restraint; it is a test of our conscience. Every moment of hunger we experience should remind us of those for whom hunger is not temporary but permanent. Every night spent with loved ones should remind us of the millions who have lost theirs to violence, displacement, and oppression. Every roof we sleep under should make us think of those whose only shelter is the sky above and the cold earth below.
As we taste the sweetness of dates and quench our thirst at sunset, let us remember – some will sleep tonight with nothing but hunger in their bellies and despair in their hearts. If our fasts do not awaken our conscience, if our prayers do not move us to action, then what have we truly gained?
This Ramadan, let our faith be more than a ritual – let it be a revolution of compassion. Let it remind us that faith is best measured by the kindness we show, the burdens we lighten, and the hope we restore in those who need it most. Silence in the face of suffering is the loudest betrayal of all.
[The writer is studying in Class 12]
