Fasting month has passed by really quickly. We’re already Raya-ing next weekend!
And I haven’t lost any weight whatsoever. Stupid Pasar Ramadhan ruining my life.
I started reminiscing about my first years of fasting. In primary school, mom would teach me how to fast, and slowly I got the hang of it. Dry frowning lips, droopy eyes, arms just hanging off my shoulders weakly, stomach making grumpy music.
Sometimes, I manage to fast the whole day. But there were times when I would be very naughty and eat in school where my parents can’t see me.
I would come home, and my mom would ask, “Are you fasting, sweetheart?”
“Yes, of course!” I lied confidently, conveniently forgetting the fried chicken and iced milo I had in school just now. I would give her how-could-you-even-ask-me-that look just to convince her even more.
Then, the whole evening I would be energetic and happy which made Mom curious. She was probably puzzled as to my sudden change from a zombie-like appearance to a happy, not-hungry kid.
Breaking fast is at 7.30pm. Usually, at 6.30pm, my forehead is already on the kitchen table asking God what I did to deserve this hunger. But some days, I’m smiling and even offering others to take the food first.
I wasn’t very smart, was I? The least I could do was pretend to walk around the house clutching my stomach and groaning with hunger.
“Are you really fasting?”
But God knew better to put my cousin in the same school as me, probably to look after me.
My mom called my cousin and put her on speaker so I could hear.
I was 9 then, but\’a0I still remember this painful day until now.
“Malina, did V fast in school today?”
My so-called cousin who didn’t understand the oath of cousin-ness answered, “No, she ate 2 fried chickens and noodle soup just now.”
Not only did she blow my cover, she even kindly described what I ate.
I’m not sure what happened after that, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t talk to Malina for a few days.
But what I did do was….fast properly ever since then.
Now, my mom has no doubt about me fasting fully anymore. Judging from what I bring back from pasar Ramadhan everyday, I am obviously one hungry person.
Except that now, I don’t wait at the table at 6.30pm anymore.
My forehead’s arrival time is now at 6.45pm.