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The tangy odor of cardamom and cinnamon drifts from the freshly brewed masala chai that aunties and uncles sip, dancing with the sugary aroma wafting from the children’s cotton-candy machine. At the entrance of our Ramadan Suhoor tent, I hear a chorus of familiar, gentle laughter and soft murmurs of conversation in the moonlight. As I whisper the words of the Quran and hear its soft sound grace my ears, a feeling of peace washes over me.

Rejuvenated by this oasis of community, I am eager for another day of fasting. I forage for the rest of my family, covertly clutching my wand of cotton candy and savoring sparse samples of chai en route. Just as we become united and begin to say our “farewell salams,” we happily bump into old friends who pause our return home.

This is how I remember spending my childhood Ramadans at the Islamic Center of Greater Cincinnati.

Each year during Ramadan, the excitement of being together is palpable; with only 30 days available, each night is irreplaceable. Ramadan represents much more than merely the physical experiences of hunger or thirst that come with fasting from dawn to sunset. Abstaining from external pleasures of food and drink requires a degree of self-discipline, a kind of restraint which often compels me to refrain from forms of excess consumption.

Ramadan encourages self-reflection, while being interspersed with communal experiences; the combination synthesizes the perfect playground for spiritual cultivation. The experience compels me to improve my character, patience, and contribution to the world around me, in ways simply not possible in the other eleven months of the year.

Night by night, the chaotic yet cozy environment within my childhood Suhoor tent fused with tranquil, early morning Fajr and late night Taraweeh prayers to catalyze my yearning to come to the masjid — the Islamic place of worship — as often as possible. Only there, at the masjid, did I really ever feel my world slowing down and my own focus stabilizing amid the entropy of everyday life, promoting my desire to remain.

Rooted in the lunar calendar, the month of Ramadan shifts earlier each year in relation to the Gregorian calendar. As a consequence of calendar misalignment, Ramadan, once an anchor of my summer breaks, has now creeped into term time. Now, long nights spent standing in Taraweeh are occasionally substituted for note-taking at my desk. And for many Muslim students across the world, this year’s Ramadan may be the first time that they practice away from their own family, friends, and communities from home.

I’ll be honest: A pivotal factor in my college decision process rested upon how each campus community supported Muslims during Ramadan. It was important to me that my school environment would foster my ability to grow and improve in all aspects of my life, not just academics.

Ramadan at Harvard has enhanced my experience in unprecedented ways. With strong support and direction from full-time University Muslim Chaplain Khalil Abdur-Rashid, and Harvard’s first female Muslim Chaplain Samia Omar, Harvard students and affiliates have access to an enriching and welcoming community. The joint effort of the Muslim Chaplaincy and the Office of the President have created an environment where Muslim students can experience Ramadan on-campus more comfortably with assured nightly programming.

As a Muslim at Harvard, I am surrounded by ample resources, which I would not have without the advocacy and work of those who have come before me. Yet this is not the norm across higher education. Many simple marks of support, such as a designated Islamic prayer space, are still subjects of stagnant discussions being held at other universities across the country.

It is imperative that other higher education institutions model similar institutional support to their Muslim students, staff, and faculty, both during and after Ramadan. Carefully designing resources and support for Ramadan necessitates months of full-time preparation — a feat that is best accomplished by dedicated staff rather than a small handful of self-organized students. Chaplains Omar and Abdur-Rashid have ensured that all Harvard affiliates can join together in community dinners and congregational prayers during every night of Ramadan. With their assistance, the number of participants in these events has increased to nearly 600 students in the past year alone.

As I reflect on this past Ramadan, I cannot help but appreciate the palpable sense of excitement and energy on campus akin to my oasis of community at home. Building off ideation and excitement from last year, together, Muslim students have organized and planned activities this Ramadan. In collaboration with Associate Dean of Inclusion and Belonging Alta Mauro and the Dean of Students Office, we, the Harvard Islamic Society, have created Weekly Community Suhoors to teach all students about Ramadan. In addition, we are hosting a larger celebration for Eid al-Fitr, the Islamic Holiday that concludes this month of fasting.

On a more personal level, students have brought Ramadan traditions from their homes to campus, whether that involves decorating iftar spaces with lights, giving Eid gifts to children, or creating fundraising initiatives campus-wide.

Now nestled within the Student Organization Center at Hilles, a makeshift prayer room recalls those same, precious moments of laughter and conversation I shared years earlier at home. The adhan (call to prayer) echoes through the room, and the community, bustling with people of all different ages, backgrounds, and studies, pauses to reflect and give thanks for the blessings of the day.

As I look forward to these last few nights filled with prayer, reflection, and togetherness, I am grateful to have such a special and meaningful community here at Harvard.

Hasan S. Quadri ’25 is a Neuroscience concentrator in Mather House and a Co-President of the Harvard Islamic Society.