11th Feb 2025
In a small village, Aini lived happily with her grandmother, Abla. Every evening, after a long day of playing lawyer and helping villagers, Abla would sit on the porch and say, "Aini, my dear, Ramadan is coming soon! We must prepare for the moonlight feast!" Aini's eyes sparkled with excitement as she replied, "Oh, I can't wait! I want to help everyone in the village!" Abla smiled, brushing Aini's hair gently, filled with love as they shared stories of the past, making their hearts dance like fireflies in the twilight.
One night, while lying on a soft mat, Aini was puzzled and asked, "Grandmother, when will we see the moon of Ramadan?" Abla chuckled softly, "Soon, my dear. When the moon shines bright, it will light our way to joy!" With that promise of adventure, Aini dreamed of preparing for the village feast, collecting sweet dates and bright lanterns. The next day, she eagerly went to the market with Abla, giggling as they picked out the best treats. Aini felt grateful as she saw her village bustling with happiness, making new friends, while the stars twinkled above, as if celebrating Ramadan with them.
As the days passed, Aini and Abla busied themselves with preparations. They gathered herbs and spices from the garden, and Abla taught Aini how to weave garlands of marigolds to hang around their home. Aini's laughter filled the air as she chased butterflies, her heart light with the anticipation of the moon's arrival. Each day brought new laughter and lessons, with Abla sharing tales of her own childhood Ramadans, filled with warmth and wonder.
Finally, the awaited evening arrived. The villagers gathered at the hilltop, their faces turned towards the sky, waiting in hushed anticipation. Then, like a silver promise, the crescent moon peeked from behind the clouds, casting a gentle glow over the crowd. "Look, Aini!" Abla whispered, pointing towards the sky. Aini's eyes widened with awe, her heart swelling with a joy that seemed to echo the moon's light.
With the moon as their guide, the village began its celebration. Aini and her new friends ran through lantern-lit streets, their laughter trailing like the tinkling of bells. The feast was a tapestry of flavors and stories, woven together with the threads of friendship and gratitude. As the night deepened, Aini sat beside Abla, her hand nestled in her grandmother's, knowing that this Ramadan, with its magic and memories, would be cherished forever.
