Childhood Ramadan Memories and the Naat That Touched My Soul

When I was little, it was my mother who first taught me the ninja technique of fasting ninety times in thirty days.

Child listening to Suhoor call during Ramadan

She used to say, there’s a special rule for kids: eat once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and again with everyone else in the evening.
That way, in a single day, kids could fast three times.
And I would actually follow this routine and fast three times a day.
By the first ten days, I’d already fasted the equivalent of an entire month, leaving everyone amazed.

With the attitude of an MP or a minister, I’d tell my elders, "I’m more pro than you. Three times more devoted."
Back then, I used to sleep deeply.
I had no sense of the world once I dozed off.
During Ramadan, I’d be fast asleep at Suhoor time when suddenly I’d hear a deep, thunderous voice saying, “Everyone, wake up, rise…”
At first, I’d be startled and think, perhaps the angels are summoning all the dead for Judgment Day. The reckoning is here.

So naturally, fear would set in at first.
But then I’d realize it was just the local muezzin calling the neighborhood to eat Suhoor. I’d breathe a sigh of relief.
And Suhoor was a truly enjoyable time.
Because we’d get to eat all sorts of delicious food.
Plus, everyone would sit together and eat, chatting away, it felt like a celebration. But I’d finish my food before anyone else.

Then I’d go roll around on the bed.
We didn’t have electricity in our house for a long time.
So it wasn’t there at that time either.
Dad had a radio. It was huge and quite old, probably from around the time of the Liberation War.

It was through that radio that I first heard the naat, “Faslon ko takalluf.”
After that, I’d hear it quite often.
I’m a Bengali speaker. Understanding deep meanings and such is not really my thing.
But that naat felt mesmerizing to me.
It felt like someone, with all the ache and yearning in their heart, was pouring their soul out in that melody, surrendering themselves to someone they deeply loved.
That moved me deeply.

I’d stop rolling around, stop jumping about, and just sit back against the wall, enchanted, and listen.
To me, it felt like meditation.
I’ve never heard a tune that calms the mind like that.
Today, after a long time, that same kind of feeling is returning.
Somewhere, that melody is playing. It’s stirring my heart.
I’m not at home.

But still, it feels like I’ll wake up today and find myself back in my childhood.
Sleeping in half-pants and a sleeveless vest.
I’ve jumped up at the muezzin’s call.
Everyone is bustling around the house, and again there’s that festive feeling in the air.
The meal will be over at some point.
I’ll lie down on my bed and wait.

Waiting for that distant, unknown singer to once again raise their magical, rich voice, and I’ll sit against the wall, arms and legs stretched, and listen.
And as I listen, I’ll feel a strange sadness.
Maybe I’ll even cry. Who knows.