If you talk to anyone who observes the month of Ramadan, you would never find them more convinced of the truth of the theory of relativity than during the final hour of fasting. In that hour, they would claim to be able to sleep, wake up, cook, rest, watch a full trilogy of movies, and have 45 minutes left before it is time to break the fast. That last hour, it seems, is as long as the rest of the day itself.

Yet there is no resentment. There is no anger, frustration, or annoyance. Quite the opposite. You would be hard-pressed to find a greater degree of anticipation or delight in restraint than in these moments. The moments, long though they may be, of final denial just at the moment before the relief of satiating the desire become the greatest enhancers of the pleasure of breaking the fast.
What is it though that makes it not only bearable but almost pleasurable for so many around the world? Even as Ramadan veers away from the long days of summer, the days remain long, yet the joy of restraint and the delight of those final moments of self-control before the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon is shared by millions.

Is it the shared sense of self-imposed discipline? While it is a non-negotiable religious edict for observant Muslims, in most places, there are no mechanisms that force anyone to abide by the fast, and in the few places that there are, people find ways around them. Perhaps it is the shared sense of community, the shared experience of restraint that makes it more bearable. Maybe it is the sense of support and mutual reinforcement; like racers near the end of a marathon, people cheer each other on quietly even as they vent their own frustration at how long a minute seems to be this late in the day.

Or is it the knowledge that relief is just around the corner? The assuredness that the restraint is not only self-imposed but is also defined and finite. Had there been an absence of assurance of reward, would it be as easy to resist the temptations that push against this self-restraint?

Or is it only faith? Trust in the passage of time? It could be that the foreknowledge that there is a reward for the effort, a light at the end of the tunnel, and an acknowledgment of the difficulties endured ensure that what is endured is cherished rather than resented.

Or is it the contrast? The contrast between having and not having, between allowances and denials, accessing and not having access? Think of how much better a cookie tastes if you had to wait for an hour, versus three, and how much better that same cookie would taste if you were to wait for twelve hours until your hunger had time to truly mature. Think of how much you would crave the cookie though, if you were not assured access at the end of the wait, would that not drive you to try to take it at the earliest opportunity?

As time passes over the course of the day, the slower it seems to flow. Early in the day, as things begin, and events gather momentum, the minutes seem to flit past. As they march onwards, their pace seems to slow down, almost as if time itself was getting tired of walking for so long. As the sun crests its peak and begins its descent towards the horizon it seems to slow its pace, almost pausing time as it hovers above the horizon near the end of that day. It is at that moment that everyone observing the fast understands the theory of relativity.

Relativity extends further when it comes to the fast observed in Ramadan. Think of a day as representing a lifetime. Now, consider how different it would be for a person to approach that same day, with the same set of challenges, with two very different mindsets. The first being that the struggles were not ensured a reward at the end, that the challenges carried with them no assurance of success or even acknowledgment for that matter, and that there was no sense of agency or connection with the universal energy associated with them. The second on the other hand would carry with it the assured knowledge that none of the struggles or challenges were futile, that they were not for nothing, that any and all sacrifices were not only acknowledged but sure to be rewarded, and see how the same challenges that seemed unsurmountable become simple stumbling blocks, how the mountainous struggles shrink in the eyes of the beholder to nothing more than molehills to be conquered.

That is where relativity brings us. The relativity of perspective; what would become nigh unbearable suffering if it were felt to be futile and imposed, becomes a welcome challenge to be overcome and taken on when there is a sense of agency and ownership. The challenge itself does not change in severity or length, however, the perception of the beholders transforms it from an insurmountable peak to a manageable mountain; when you visualize the view from the top, the climb becomes a mere step in the way to achievement.

You can follow Mohammed El Soukkary’s culinary adventures at @Diplocook on Instagram.