A knock on the door could mean a raid. A loud noise in the night could mean another family is left without a loved one. A ringing phone could mean news of an arrest, a beating, or worse.
Such is the case for our brothers and sisters in occupied Kashmir. A land so beautiful yet the valleys are tainted in horrors of uncertainty. Because beauty, it does not bring peace when the souls are restless.
Every Ramadan, masjids are closely monitored, imams are restricted, and any religious gathering is seen as an act of defiance. One Kashmiri recalls, “We pray with the awareness that at any moment, our masjid doors could be forced open, and soldiers could march in. Yet, we still pray.”
Internet blackouts isolate them further, cutting them off from the world. Economic hardship deepens even more during Ramadan. Markets are shut down and curfews are imposed without warning. Unemployment runs high, leaving many parents unable to buy their children new clothes for Eid.
Talk about Kashmiri children? They wake up for suhoor to the sound of military patrols instead of the call to prayer. They ask why their fathers have been taken away, why they must break their fasts in darkness during an electricity blackout, why their schools are shut down again.
The mountains stand firm, but the hearts of those who live beneath them carry burdens heavier than stone. The rivers shimmer under the moonlight, but the droplets reflect the cries of grieving mothers. The cool wind rustles softly through the pine trees, but it carries the whispers of loss.
Yet, despite it all, the spirit of Ramadan in occupied Kashmir does not fade.
They fast, they pray, they give charity in whatever little way they can. Even when masjids are locked, hearts remain open in devotion. Even when Eid celebrations are subdued, smiles still bloom on the faces of those who find joy within their imaans, rather than their circumstances.
As we sip our water at iftar, let us remember those who break their fast with only their tears. As we prepare for Eid, let us raise our hands and pray for a Ramadan when the beauty of Kashmir is no longer tainted by grief, and when the valleys echo not with sorrow, but with freedom.
