An Iftar to Remember

Try as I might to keep these posts spaced out as much as possible and on a regular schedule, India seems to continue to conspire against me. Much like India itself, life just doesn't slow down. And neither does the rain during monsoon season. Coming from this Oregonian, when I say it poured here this weekend, I mean it POURED! Roads became rivers, traffic in the city reached a standstill, and my umbrella collapsed, leaving me as wet as if I had jumped into a pool. Which is why when Sunday evening rolled around, I was happy to go somewhere dry for a change.

So what did I do on Sunday evening? Well one of my roomates and I were invited to a local home to share in an Iftar meal, otherwise known as the breaking of the daily fast, for the month of Ramzan (Ramadan). Muslim families do this every day here, not eating or drinking anything from 4 in the morning until approimately 6:50 in the evening for the whole month. As it was explained to us, during the holy month, fasting is seen as way to honor Allah and also help atone for your bad behavior in the past. So strictly speaking, a good Muslim won't sing or dance during Ramzan either, a fact all the girls at my school bemoan. But once it is time to break the fast each night, the streets come alive. The city is littered with night markets, all of which stay open until the small hours of the morning and glitter with lights and banners advertising their food for hungry Muslims around the neighborhood.

Well I have never been one to hesitate to partake in any cultural event involving food and the fact that maybe I could learn something about Islam as well was an added bonus. At 5PM, my roommate and I took off to our friend's house in the old city, covering our heads as best as we could with scarves that kept falling off and not knowing what to expect. The family consisted of an older son and then four younger sisters but the extended family, including uncles, wives, children and mother-in-laws were present too. While most of the family didn't have amazing English, we could communicate well enough and I have to say I felt incredibly lucky to be invited into someone's home to partake in the wholly family event. Plus, as I had been missing my own family, it was great to just spend some time with SOMEONE'S family and they made us feel completely welcome in their home.

At 6:45, we were led into a room decorated with ornate carpets. On top of the carpet was a spread of dates, every kind of fruit imaginable, the infamous Haleem and some sweet Indian treats, all of which I had to exercise real self restraint not to devour. I mean, while I'm most definitely not fasting this month, I thought I would give it a bit of a try and not eat anything for say, about six hours, before going to the house. And that was nearly impossible for me. I think I would make a horrible Muslim. But that aside, we all sat down on the floor and waited to hear the booming bell from the nearby mosque, signifying the setting of the sun and the beginning of Iftar. And then we ate. First, you always start with a date, although the actual reason why was lost in translation I think. Suffice it to say, the Prophet said so, so it is. Then we gorged ourselves on fruit including watermelon, papaya, grapes, apples, bananas, pomegranates and a few I've never seen before in my life.

But quickly the food was cleared away and it was time for prayers, with the men going downstairs to pray and the women staying upstairs. During Ramzan, prayers are said at about 4:45AM before starting your fast, 6AM after which you usually go back to sleep for a bit, noon, 3:30, 6:40 and 7:50. Although don't quote me on that because judging by the calls to prayer I hear outside our own window, the timing is a little off... So post fast-breaking prayers were said, after which the carpet was filled with the main meal of the day, including fried chicken (I kid you not, it tasted just like KFC!), biryani, chicken curry, and my new favorite, Kheer, which is milk, cream, rice and dried fruit mixture. It was all cooked by the eldest sister-in-law, who will spend 3-6 hours every day cooking for Iftar, and it was the best meal I've eaten here so far. Needless to say, I was waddling out of there.

After dinner and some chai, one of the sisters brought out her wedding album which was so interesting to see. Apparently she had only been 18 when she was married which was probably lucky because the amount of jewelry she had on would probably have broken an older woman's back! But because her husband was not there to give permission, we couldn't take our picture with her. My roommate and I exchanged glances when she said this but then just shrugged it off. You learn to accept things as they are here. The younger sister who is now 20 starting discussing her upcoming nuptials, providing that her parents find her a suitable groom. She quietly confided to me she'd like to stay in Hyderabad near her family, while her father expressed a hope for a Saudi Arabian son-in-law. They were a bit shocked by our own ages and by the fact that we were here by ourselves, without a family or husbands, but being American means people expect you to be a certain amount of crazy anyway so they ended up dropping the topic and most likely deciding that we were just some weird heathen girls.

We left the house soon after, with the young boys (ages 2-6)in our wake, relieved that they didn't have shake our scary white hands or take pictures with us anymore. My roommate and I were estatic. It was one of those experiences that may seem simple and routine to most people here but made us step out of comfort zones (way waaay out!) and try something new. Plus we met some really nice people as well and got fed within an inch of our lives in the process. Not a bad Sunday evening at all and I remained dry for a few hours at once, no mean feat in this monsoon weather and humidity.

Okay, that's all for now folks. I will hopefully be able to steal the Iftar pictures from my roommate soon and put them up before you get bored of my all-text entry. And I'm sure I will be adding a new blog post before you, or even I, for that matter, are prepared for it. I'm already woefully slacking on other kinds of posts about daily life here in India but like I said, you can't really control what happens here. You just have to enjoy the ride. Cheers!