On Friday last week, Muslims celebrated Eid Al Fitr, marking the end of a month-long endeavor to strengthen our faith, practice discipline, and exercise humility. In an earlier blog post (during COVID, I believe), I reflected on the challenge of fasting during Ramadan as a college student away from home: I was missing the community that made fasting and worship more enjoyable and a less lonely experience. From family meals before dawn to praying side-by-side late at night, these were the moments I often reminisced while I struggled to survive the thirty days with little support and companionship.
After much contemplation and consideration with my physical and mental health, I decided it was the best decision for me to not partake in fasting this year, and it was a hard decision for me to reach. One that made me feel incredibly disconnected from my faith and disappointed in myself. However, I vowed to still take advantage of the other opportunities I had to connect with God that didn’t entail putting a stress on my body that I knew I couldn’t handle. I attended nightly prayer, paid more attention to my bad and good habits, prioritized prayer, and journaled for self-reflection alongside my schoolwork. It didn’t feel like my best effort relative to other Ramadans I have observed, but it felt like my best given everything going on in my life.
Earlier in the month, I started going to prayer with my only Muslim friend – first at the off-campus Mosque to avoid other college kids and then to Pasquerilla. In all four years at Penn State, I tried so hard to avoid any events or socializing with other student in the Muslim Student Association. Was I afraid of judgement? Did I not feel close to my faith? My first time there felt strange, but as the nights went on, I started to get used to it. I said hi to some people. I regret not learning their names, but I felt comfort in seeing faces I recognized from the nights before despite never having spoken to them.
The Korean church Apple Maps took my best friend and I to on the first night of Ramadan…
In the last week, my parents decided to host iftar for approximately 150 students with homecooked Indian food my mom was gracious enough to prepare (I helped). I watched everyone I had spent the last few iftars with enjoy the food I had the privilege of growing up with. The nostalgia and homesickness cured for many who were far away from home. “Tell your mother that was one of the best Ramadan meals I’ve had in all four years here,” a girl told me. I was surprised at how kind of a gesture my parents did for the other students I barely knew, and the night healed the loneliness I’d been feeling during this month for a long time.
Our iftar spread ft. me, my mom and my sister! Menu: Butter Chicken, Butter Paneer, Fruit, Samosas, Pasta, and Rice.
I’m trying my best to avoid erasing the habits I’ve started this Ramadan, and two days later I’ve been feeling somewhat discouraged. But progress was never linear, and I still have a (new) community to lean on.
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