Another year, another Ramadan. Ramadan isn't the same when I am away from my family and it certainly isn't the same when away from Male'. It is over idealized I realize but I feel nostalgic nonetheless.

Ramadan was much looked forward to when I was a kid. I felt a dramatic shift in the atmosphere; it was beautiful. Piety provided solace and comfort - it was rewarding. The family got much tighter - we'd pray together, eat together and have fun together. Relatives would invite me over for breakfast and I would end up receiving much affection in addition to the variety of tasty food. I would be allowed to while away the day playing, reading or doing whatever crazy stuff that erupted out of my imagination that day. The fun kept me busy - oftentimes too busy to forget about the essence of fasting and ending up with a scolding from my parents.

The magic of Ramadan for me, for the most part, has been lost. Maybe this is another manifestation of the capacity for the human mind to desensitize itself - much like it finds no longer amused by a joke or no longer tingling at the sight of a romantic partner or bored by the same song that was your favourite 5 days ago and even no longer achieving the same sensory stimulus from masturbation. Maybe the magic of Ramadan has disappeared due to the loss of innocence. Maybe it's because of a diminished spiritual belief. I don't really know.

As if to make matters worse, Ramadan is the month that carries my hijri calendar birthday. The day has already passed and I am left a year older - something I do not wish to acknowledge wholeheartedly. Then again, few years from now on, I'd be totally desensitized to growing older too and be left totally oblivious to the concept of birthdays. Everyday will seem similar to the previous and the next day will be as depressing as the current... Sigh.