The months leading up to Ramadan are filled with lists, planning and so much effort and even Eid menus are planned and ready. But this year brought with it a devastating change that saw the world and every Muslim placed into a lockdown. As world leaders strove to put in place measures to “flatten the curve”, religious leaders were faced with the dilemma of informing their congregations of the strict laws that affected our worship in public spaces. For the Muslim community around the world this meant the shutting of the doors of the masajid in order to adhere to the social distancing rules that were to keep us from contracting a disease that was ravaging the earth and taking lives by the score every hour.

This set off panic for some, a sense of rights being usurped for others but for many it brought a heaviness to the heart. The sense of unity, camaraderie and even the peace felt in the masajid was ripped out from under our feet, like a dusty carpet causing allergies to flare.

Even, Muslim women felt the melancholy that followed, even though most were not allowed into the sanctity of the masjid. A sombre mood settled upon the Ummah as the first Jumaah salah arrived with only the adhaan being called but no congregations allowed, and people prayed at home.

It also brought us to a shuddering halt as we were suddenly made to take a stark look at our lives. It slowly dawned on us that we were not in control of anything! Those feelings of invincibility suddenly crashed and fell like a smashed window.

My world was shaken too as I was about to be married and well that was not happening any more. I felt as if Allah was poking me in the side, asking, “am I not the best of Planners?”

Well, I ended the “engagement” at day two of the lockdown and no one seemed bothered. Mom was caught up with filling bottles with sanitising liquid and lamenting about her samoosas not being ready on time.

We live in a complex – well, the entire extended family filled the complex and any “big” news traversed the entire complex at break-neck speed.  My Nani, ever inquisitive asked if he had called off the wedding because he found out that I didn’t know how to download rotis, while Daadi enquired if it was because I spent too much time in the sun?! Daada announced that since we were “quarantining” it was a good time to get closer to the Almighty.

Every girls’ nightmare, but as I said that was the most I got as everyone was either working on each other’s nerves or engrossed in their collective misery over the lockdown.

Everyone was on edge as the uncertainty of this unprecedented event kept us apart and yet still managed to spark off tensions. It had gotten so bad that my Dad and his brother would meet each other in secret to discuss how their respective wives could only talk of spring cleaning and planning for Ramadan, driving them crazy.

For the first time, Ramadan did not feel like the month that we welcomed and cherished, instead we were apprehensive, fearful and uncertain as news of the lockdown filtered deeper into our psyches.  And the warning from Allah suddenly seemed so much more relevant – “We plan and Allah plans, and Allah is the best of Planners” and some in cases, we could say “We plan and God laughs.”