Ramadan 2026: I won’t rugby tackle you to the floor for your food

Published on 16 Feb 2026

2:57 min estimated read time

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by Sabira Ali

Disclaimer: The content on this blog is the opinion of the author and it was correct at the time of writing

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Let’s clear something up straight away.

If you’re eating a sandwich in front of me during Ramadan, I am not going to hiss at you like a dehydrated vampire. I’m not going to dramatically faint. And I absolutely will not rugby tackle you to the floor for your crisps.

Ramadan isn’t The Hunger Games.

It’s a month observed by Muslims around the world, and while yes, it involves fasting from dawn to sunset (no food, no drink, not even water), it’s about a lot more than just not snacking.

What is Ramadan about?

Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar. For Muslims, it’s a sacred time focused on spiritual reset. Think of it as a month-long deep clean for the soul.

Fasting is one part of it. But it’s also about:

  • Self-discipline
  • Gratitude
  • Reflection
  • Charity
  • Patience
  • Being a better human overall

Yes, we get hungry. No, we’re not angry (usually)

Do we get hungry? Of course.

Around 4pm, your brain might start fantasising about toast like it’s a Michelin-starred experience. Water becomes a luxury item. You suddenly notice every food advert in existence.

But fasting isn’t meant to make you miserable. It’s meant to build empathy, especially for those who don’t have food security. It’s a physical reminder of something many people experience daily.

And oddly enough, there’s something powerful about realising I’m hungry… and I’m okay.

Ramadan feast

Please, eat your lunch

One of the biggest myths is that non-Muslims should feel awkward eating around someone who’s fasting.

Honestly? It’s fine.

You don’t need to hide in a cupboard with your cereal bar. You don’t need to whisper apologies while drinking coffee. I promise I can survive the sight of your iced latte.

Fasting is a personal act of worship. It’s not a group punishment.

The only thing that might be mildly torturous is someone describing their triple-layer chocolate cake in cinematic detail. But even then, we’ll live.

The evenings are special

If the day is about restraint, the evening is about connection.

At sunset, the fast is broken, traditionally with dates and water, followed by a meal called iftar. Families gather. Friends are invited. Mosques host community meals. There’s warmth, generosity, and that unbeatable first sip of water feeling.
(Truly. Nothing in this world compares.)

There’s also extra prayer at night, quiet reflection, and a sense of being part of something global. Millions of people, across time zones, doing this together.

It’s not just about food

Ramadan is also about fasting from bad habits; gossip, negativity, impatience, scrolling aimlessly for hours.

It’s a time to check in with yourself.

Am I kind? Am I generous? Am I showing up for people?

It’s less about physical hunger and more about feeding what matters.

If you’re not Muslim…

You don’t need to change your life. But small gestures go a long way.

  • “Ramadan Mubarak” (Happy Ramadan) is always appreciated.
  • Being mindful of meeting times close to sunset? Thoughtful.
  • Asking questions respectfully? Welcome.

Curiosity beats assumptions every time.

The no-rugby-tackling guarantee

So, here’s the deal.

You eat your lunch. I’ll fast. We’ll both carry on being decent human beings.

And if you see me at sunset with a date in one hand and water in the other, looking unreasonably emotional, just know that it’s not about the food.

It’s about discipline. Gratitude. Faith. Community. Perspective.

And possibly also about the samosas waiting in the kitchen.

Ramadan Mubarak.

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