In a world where eating has become a solitary act, snatched quickly in front of a screen or in the corner of an office, Ramadan arrives to restore the rhythm that modern life has quietly eroded. Not only the rhythm of the body, but the rhythm of community itself.

The moment of iftar marks not the end of hunger, but the beginning of shared time.

It is a rare moment when human beings come together without meeting, because the sun neither waits for nor favours anyone. This is what Muhammad Abdulsater captures in his recent piece for The Guardian when he writes, ‘Iftar isn’t just eating; it’s synchronisation’. A simple sentence, yet it opens a wide door to understanding Ramadan beyond its religious framework. Iftar is not merely a bite lifted to the mouth; it is a cosmic alignment in which people stop running, listen to the fading light and feel their bodies return to themselves.

Modernity has succeeded in tailoring time to the individual: personalised playlists, curated news feeds, flexible working hours and fragmented meals within the same household. More freedom… and more loneliness. Even food — the last remaining communal act — has become individualised. Ramadan interrupts this trend. Fasting is private, yes, but breaking the fast is communal. The act of waiting itself becomes shared, and the boundary that governs it is not a human decision, but the movement of the sun. As Abdulsater writes, ‘The sun, indifferent to productivity metrics, sets when it sets.’ A sentence worthy of being framed.

Iftar is not merely a bite lifted to the mouth; it is a cosmic alignment in which people stop running, listen........

© Middle East Monitor