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That day was Friday. A few days ago, a group of young people from my area had made plans. They had thought of organizing iftar for the local residents on the occasion of Ramadan. For that, everyone had contributed whatever they could. That day, in preparation for the iftar and prayer gathering, I also started making arrangements.
In the month of Ramadan, there are some prayers and Milad gatherings. That day, my entire family had gone to a feast. I was the only one at home who did not go to the feast because I had plans to break fast with the local residents. What had been said was then being done. I put on my Punjabi and set off towards the mosque. When I arrived, I saw everyone busy arranging the plates. My friend Saon and I had decided to walk a little away from the mosque since there were still 45 minutes left until iftar. Although I used to walk every afternoon for a specific reason, that day I chose to wait. The time drew near. I entered the mosque and performed ablution. Everyone was busy with their tasks. The Imam began the prayer. A few boys started serving the iftar plates.
The Imam prayed for the local residents. It felt as if he was begging for mercy from God. In Islam, prayer holds great importance. I really enjoy attending these prayer gatherings. It feels as if God, considering someone's good deeds, might forgive my sins. Anyway, the call to prayer began. Everyone started breaking their fast. In fact, when food was in front of me after a day of fasting, a different kind of feeling arose. I couldn't eat much, but for some reason, I forced myself to eat quite a bit. Perhaps everyone else was doing the same. It felt like there was a competition among the children for food that day. Some couldn't eat enough and took food home with them. After iftar, I performed my prayers and came out. That evening felt blessed to me, as if it was a completely different experience.