Broken Verses
“‘Are you coming over for sehri, or what?’ Rabia said when I answered, panicked.
‘Oh, bugger.’ Rabia laughed. ‘It’s the Holy Month. Be good. No abuse.’ I rolled out of bed and when my feet hit the bare ground in the space between my bed and the rug there was a thrilling sensation of cold. That promised winter had arrived, though it would probably be gone by dawn. I pulled on my dressing-gown, opened the window and leaned out. Over the loudspeaker of the nearby mosque came the impassioned chantin...g of Arabic. I felt a moment of irritation on behalf of the non-fasters who would have to put up with a sustained guilt trip for the next four weeks. Ramzan was a month when the holier-than-thous were in their element. We used to have one of them as a neighbour, and every year she’d make a list of people who weren’t fasting, and every day of the month before daybreak she’d call someone on the list and recite Qur’ānic verses down the phone, hoping to affect a change of heart.MoreLess
‘Oh, bugger.’ Rabia laughed. ‘It’s the Holy Month. Be good. No abuse.’ I rolled out of bed and when my feet hit the bare ground in the space between my bed and the rug there was a thrilling sensation of cold. That promised winter had arrived, though it would probably be gone by dawn. I pulled on my dressing-gown, opened the window and leaned out. Over the loudspeaker of the nearby mosque came the impassioned chantin...g of Arabic. I felt a moment of irritation on behalf of the non-fasters who would have to put up with a sustained guilt trip for the next four weeks. Ramzan was a month when the holier-than-thous were in their element. We used to have one of them as a neighbour, and every year she’d make a list of people who weren’t fasting, and every day of the month before daybreak she’d call someone on the list and recite Qur’ānic verses down the phone, hoping to affect a change of heart.MoreLess
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