Forgetfulness.

11 Ramadhan, 1441

I forgot to date yesterday's post, according to the Islamic calendar. I don't think it's ever slipped my mind before to provide the date of a post in the holy month of Ramadhan when it's usually the case that all my efforts are centred on attempting to conduct myself in a fitting manner and rising to the demands upon me. This year the unusual circumstances in which we all find ourselves have had some impact on my experience of the fast and its attendant obligations. But I hope that in some degree they've served to intensify my understanding of the experience.

I'm thinking here of the awareness I've been afforded of just how unequally the burdens of dealing with the pandemic have been distributed and the need to make some small contribution to easing the burdens borne by the less fortunate around the world. Every day it seems I find myself reading of the extreme challenges faced by others - details of the lives of others that just didn't come to consciousness in the early months of the year, yet were always predictable given the vulnerability of so many.

The plight of migrant workers here, there and everywhere is one example. An excellent piece I read today on their current plight in India being just one example of many that shouldn't be easily forgotten.