In that moment of helplessness, I pondered. I was the one choosing to put myself through this agony as a test, while the Muslims were bound to it as a religious practice, but we had the ability to stop or back out at any time. I began to feel pity for the poor who had no choice but to suffer, starve and become parched. Then I figured it out...that was the point, or at least part of it.
It made me forget about my own complaints and aware that others had no control over the resources that were available to them, which put things into perspective. So what was left of the first day was by no means difficult to endure. I broke the fast at sunset with a special meal known as iftar made up of dates and water, which is said to follow the steps of the holy Prophet Muhammed, who is God's messenger.
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