desperate exasperations

It’s always this time of the year when karaoke rooms decide to close down. Sober restaurant entrepreneurs hang curtains – sometimes cute with embroidered-and-lace ends, sometimes as materialized-from-nowhere as semi-plastic – along their gigantic windows; completely nullifying the windows’ usual function as an etalage. It’s always this time of the year when dried dates suddenly blend in with tiramisu or ice cream or pudding. The streets are jammed at 5:30 PM, and adzan Maghrib gains instant popularity. It’s always this time of the year where Arabic paraphrases are catchy advertisement taglines; the new prime time is 3 in the morning; and female celebrities wrap their hazel-dyed, asymmetrical salon-cut hair in pashminas.

Being consistent with what they’re notorious for, FPI raids the road. Often, in the middle of the day, they smash some roadside warteg that still serves food. A glint of night life from any discotheques or night clubs is a sign that the building is a local jumrah site. I wonder what happened to all the self-control that fasting’s supposed to be teaching about. Strangely, in this – if I may call it this way – season of Ramadhan, the troopers parading in the anti-hedonistic march is not only formed by extremists, but also by Average Joe-s – the crowds at large. There’s a considerable crowd flocking the local mosque at 8 PM. People reacts more positively to religious preaches. The Qur’an seems like a more down-to-Earth option of activity compared to any other time of the year. Seen from the surface, this time of the year, the religious lifestyle seems to go up a notch.

The gloss of ‘a more religious lifestyle’ sounds intoxicatingly sweet. Though so, the awe that struck me every time this point of the year approaches never ceases. I’m awed by the rituals that keep on being repeated year after year after year. The fasting started from being a personal elementary-school-kid achievement, now more of an anorexic antic. The taraweh started from being an elementary-school-kid obligation, now a festival-esque cacophony. The buka-puasa started from being a grateful moment, now a fashionable way of saying ‘feast’ or ‘dinner’. All the special prayers, the waking-up in the still of the night – all the rituals… it has never manifested into anything but a physical grating of trans-fat. The spiritual sensation might be quite unique at the first ten years of doing these Ramadhan rituals, but after numerous da-capo’s, any melodies which previously are spiritual just fall flat.

Personally speaking, Ramadhan comes at a terrible moment this year. In the name of the hope of gaining weight, I’m starting to have some cheeks now. Now I’m facing a month of religiously-obligatory starvation that poses a threat of me losing up to five kilograms for the next month. Can I afford it? No. So besides from being spiritually arid, the classic rituals of Ramadhan may challenge my already-distressing physical state (which descriptively means being caged at a stagnant 45-kgs with protruding knees, wing-like shoulderblades, and wrists no bigger in diameter than a baseball bat - only with less density).

So I wonder what will this year be like. Last year was an experimentation in-and-out of rituals. Would this year be a 100% ritual-free for me? If not rituals, what then? I’m not sure yet. Perhaps I will put on my glasses and scrutinize deeper the dynamics of spirituality’s sociocultural manifestations that people perform especially during Ramadhan. What does the community normally define as a spiritual action? What would be the benchmark of a better spirituality? It can be really intriguing, and my resolution is to find out these areas that tend to be overlooked, and have at least a clearer answer at the end of the month. Perhaps. Let’s see what these three days come up with. Any advices will be appreciated.

Meanwhile, let’s enjoy waking up at 3, eat accordingly, and embrace the mystique ambiance a dawning day never fails to deal. Let’s reap at the Lebaran discounts given by any local department stores; it’s usually my rare chance to buy a heap of brand-new outfits without damaging my bank account as much. Let’s cell-text or send post-its of sincere-apologies and harness the power of saying ‘don’t-lie-you’re-fasting’ in any enjoyable, friendly tête-à-tête’s… they can be quite laughable usually (no sarcasm intended).

This entry was posted on Monday, September 1st, 2008 at 4:38 pm and is filed under Religion. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.