The New Buku Tiga 5

As I walk hurriedly to join the saf, the imam sternly reminded us to fill in the blanks. Shoulder to shoulder, in a straight line, once again I was facing the Almighty. And again, the same question emerged in my mind as I sunk deeper into my prayers. “What is Ramadhan to you now?” Merely holding oneself against all temptations that can be sinful, or just another month to go on constant diet. If so, why the fuss of shackling the devils and the hantus?
It’s a WAR. A battle between me and myself. A soul-searching period, instigating conflict - what He wants me to be against what I want to be. Confusing and insufferable it might seem, but He has promised me. Every time my forehead touches the ground, every time my hands are clasped together, He promised me that it will only be His voice and no other. The time when He pays extra-attention to those that whisper His name, to those that talks to Him. His voice, so clear with admirable lucidity, rushing through my veins, dissolving me into tears and giggles. But only for those who listens.
And Eidil fitri is the day We compromised.