The Iftari I Never Planned but Somehow Created

As I am so tired, so as usual I asked AI to correct my grammar and polish my story where needed.

I opened my Vocal Media page today and realised something surprising — it’s been almost a whole week since I last published. I don’t even know how the days slipped away from me. But then again, Ramadan has arrived, and with it my entire routine has changed. Time behaves differently in Ramadan. The days feel long, the evenings feel short, and somehow the whole week disappears before you even notice.

Last week, I invited my friend’s family for iftari. It turned out to be such a lovely evening. We laughed, we talked, the kids ran around, and honestly, we all enjoyed ourselves so much. But let me confess something that still makes me smile. When I invited her, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to cook. I’m not exaggerating — I had zero plan. Nothing. My mind was as blank as a new notebook.

My original idea was extremely simple. I thought, “Okay, I’ll bake some store‑bought samosas, fry a few chicken fillets, cut some fruit, buy drinks, put dates on the table, and after Maghrib we’ll have tea and cookies.” That was it. No stress. No headache. No standing in the kitchen for hours. I was proud of myself for keeping it easy.

But within two days — actually, within one day — something changed. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the Ramadan spirit. Maybe it was the inner chef I didn’t know I had. Or maybe it was just me being me. But suddenly, in the middle of the night, I walked to the dining room like a sleepwalking aunty on a mission. I opened the fridge, took out the chicken legs, and started marinating them at 1 a.m. Who does that? Apparently, I do.

The next day, I even called my friend to ask what kind of drink they prefer for iftari. Cold? Room temperature? Hot? You might think, “Just serve the drink, Uzma.” But no. When you’re fasting, you know there’s a moment when your body feels cold and weak. You need energy. And we avoid fizzy drinks at iftari, especially when breaking the fast. So I wanted to make something that actually helps — something refreshing but gentle.

So instead of one drink, I ended up making multiple drinks. Different colours, different flavours, different temperatures. I basically turned into a Ramadan bartender.

And just like that, my whole menu changed. The simple, no‑cooking plan disappeared. Instead of buying everything from outside, I decided to make most of it myself. I chose dishes that feel comforting after a long fast — a mix of warm dishes, room‑temperature dishes, and a few store‑bought items just to keep myself sane.

When everything was finally ready, the table looked fuller than I ever expected. My baked chicken drumsticks — the ones I had marinated at 1 a.m. — sat proudly in the centre. Next to them was a big dish of macaroni with boneless chicken, cheese, stir‑fried mushrooms, and colourful bell peppers. I added chana, potatoes with yogurt chaat, a fresh salad, and a plate of fruits to brighten the table. For the kids (and honestly for myself), I kept it simple with a cheese pizza and warm garlic bread. The drinks had their own little corner: coconut water, two versions of milk Rooh Afza, a creamy seviyan drink, and of course, tea to end the evening. Looking at it all together, I couldn’t believe this was the same iftari I had originally planned to keep “simple.”

The house smelled like spices and fried goodness. The table looked full and colourful. And when my friend’s family arrived, the smile on their faces made all the effort worth it. We ate, we talked, we shared stories, and the evening passed beautifully. That’s the magic of Ramadan — even the tired moments feel blessed.

After the iftari, when the guests left and the house finally became quiet, I realised something else — the very next day was my husband’s flight. So you can imagine how busy I was. After finishing all the kitchen chores, I went upstairs and asked him if he needed help with packing or anything else.

And I have to say something here. I’m really sorry I didn’t mention earlier how much he helped me on the day of the iftari. Truly, I have no words to explain it. With his support, I didn’t feel tired at all. He was there with me, quietly helping, making things easier without even being asked. When the guests were gone, I looked at him, smiled with love, and said, “Thank you for helping and supporting me.” Sometimes that one sentence carries a whole world inside it.

And now here I am again, sitting with my laptop open, thinking about my next story. I don’t force myself to write. I don’t sit and stare at the screen waiting for inspiration. My ideas come naturally, like little sparks. I don’t pressure my brain. I wait for the click.

Maybe this moment — this whole iftari adventure — is the click.