Of unanswered prayers

The setting of the sun ushered in the dawn of a blessed month - a month where Muslims all over the world fast from dawn to sunset everyday. A month of inner-reflection, repentance, devotion to God, and self control. A month called Ramadhan.

It's a month where families would have their two meals together - before dawn and after sunset - when they break their fast. It's also a month when I really get the feeling that someone's missing.

I'd often pray that dad was still there sitting alongside our mother for our first meal before fasting. He'd have a small meal that is usually followed by a quick smoke of Marlboro. And after a warm shower, he would then leave for work. I'd pray to hear the soft thud when he closes the wooden door and the squeaking hinges of the gate. And when we're just about to break our fast, I'd pray that he would just show up at the door with sweet anythings. But I wouldn't mind even if he showed up with nothing - for his showing up is what matters most.

However, I know all too well that my prayers will remain unanswered - just like Pablo's.