As Ramazan wraps up, so do its special features. Just like the advertisers, television returns to its ‘normal’ routine. And so do most of us.

Have you looked around the city recently? In the newspapers, perhaps? Wait, you must have seen it on TV! The boy praying fervently, the man holding rosary beads, the iftar setting — many companies take advantage of the holy month of Ramazan to market their own products in a holy way.

While we must commend them for their sensitivity to the blessed month of Ramazan, the change afterwards always comes as a rude shock. After all, with the close of Ramazan, they are no longer bound by any religious obligation to portray symbolic spirituality. Hence, they return to their regular mix of offerings, where religion is the farthest thing from their minds.

Interestingly, if we look closely, the advertisers are not the only ones who dutifully celebrate this month before leaping headlong into the festivities of Eid and the usual fare beyond. We see Islamic-style programming sprouting up on television, complete with melodious naats. On an individual basis, Ramazan’s magnetic pull attracts even the not-so-practising. Hence, you find people who hardly ever pray all year round, religiously fasting and praying during this month.

The Holy Quran comes down and the race against time begins: the 30 chapters must be recited in this month. Masajid swell up at night — many mosques actually make room for women! The Taraweeh rush-job is also available for those in a hurry: six-day, 10-day or a variation thereof. Sadly, we even confine the limitless blessings of lailatul qadr to a single night of the 27th, even though the Holy Prophet (Peace be upon him) has explicitly told the faithful to search for it in the odd nights of the last ten days. (Bukhari)

The underprivileged (who mostly fast randomly because of their tiring workdays) capitalise on the benefits of this month, for they know that almost universally zakat is distributed herein. So, the maids tour the various houses on their list wearing this expectation on their sleeves — and, indeed, they are keenly and generously awarded with clothes, money, and ration. Beggars also try their luck door-to-door.

Alas, like all good things, as Ramazan wraps up, so do its special features. Just like the advertisers, television returns to its ‘normal’ routine. And so do all of us. For many, the package of fasting-and-praying is replaced with a general apathy to prayer times. The Holy Quran goes back to its place in the shelf. Masajid return to their regular handful isha participants, not to mention the fact that they promptly close their doors to women. Unfortunately, no prayer rush-job exists for the rest of the year. And, the underprivileged wait until the following Ramazan for the sky to fall open.

Sound familiar? The pattern repeats itself every Ramazan. It has become a sort of culture; or, more aptly, a ritual. True, the reward for our good deeds in Ramazan is manifold, and so it’s only natural that we wish to maximise our blessings in it. At the same time, our handling of Ramazan is alarmingly symbolic of something quite far-reaching: the general attitude toward Islam and religion in our society. Although a major difference between Islam and other religions is the fact that Islam is not just a mazhab, but deen (a way of life), we are increasingly trivialising it into a ritualistic existence in our lives.

For example, we hold Quran khwanis and milads to herald important events such as weddings, but these spiritual gatherings seem more like tools of self-gratification. Once a ‘religious’ offering has been made to God, and His blessings have been invoked, it seems we can return to business.

The single-most important element of a wedding, the sacred ceremony of the nikah, is often performed monotonously and in isolation, whether at a masjid or on stage. The imam utters an Arabic khutbah unfathomed by all and sundry, which often goes unheard anyway. Relatives seem more concerned with comforting the emotional mother of the bride and congratulating the groom as soon as the nikah is signaled to be completed -- while the rest of the guests enjoy nuqil chhoaray and await dinner. Hence, the solemnity of the nikah gets lost in the milieu of ritualistic adherence of our very own traditions.

Similarly, we belittle the value of the entire month of Shaaban by exaggerating its one night into a larger-than-life experience.

What’s more, we resort to pirs and religious elders to perform such personal du’as as istikhaara, not realising that Islam came to establish a one-on-one relationship between God and His creatures. Along the same lines, we seem generally more preoccupied with be-adbi of religion than its adab, which might just be funny except it sadly betrays our ignorance and misguided perception of Islam. The above are only a few examples -- many others abound right around us, apparent to the discerning observer.

Islam came to be absorbed into our lifestyles through not only ritualistic prayer and fasting but the all-encompassing worship of God and His consciousness, day and night. Hence, Islam is not something to be set aside for Friday, Ramazan and self-styled ‘holy days’. Rather, it is to infiltrate into our daily routine, our thinking and our attitude.