Thursday, February 26, 2026

Making Education Accessible for All (4)

On Wednesday, 25 February 2026, during a press conference held at the PDIP Party School in Lenteng Agung, Jakarta, Indonesia, Maria Yohana (MY) Esti Wijayati provided a formal clarification to dispel what she described as "public confusion" regarding the funding of the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme. She was accompanied by other prominent party members, including Adian Napitupulu and Bonnie Triyana.

The core of her statement confirmed that:

  • Direct Budgetary Sourcing: Contrary to claims by some government officials that the MBG was funded through departmental "efficiencies," Esti revealed that Rp223.5 trillion has been explicitly taken from the Rp769.1 trillion national education budget for the 2026 fiscal year.
  • Evidence from State Documents: She cited the 2026 State Budget (APBN) Law (UU No. 17 of 2025) and its accompanying Presidential Regulation, noting that the appendix clearly classifies these funds under the education function but allocates them to the National Nutrition Agency (BGN).
  • Critique of Priorities: Esti expressed deep regret over this reallocation, arguing that such a massive sum should ideally be used to address the "grim reality" of Indonesian education, such as the thousands of dilapidated school buildings in regions like East Nusa Tenggara (NTT) and the inadequate welfare of teachers.

During the same event, Adian Napitupulu reinforced Esti’s points by quoting Article 22 of the 2026 APBN Law, which explicitly states that "educational operational funding includes the nutritious meal programme" in both general and religious educational institutions. This legislative language, according to the PDIP Fraction, proves that the programme is not an "extra" budget but a re-categorisation of existing mandatory education spending.

Based on the current investigative data, there is no record of a formal rebuttal issued by either the Ministry of Basic and Secondary Education or the National Nutrition Agency (BGN) specifically addressing the recent statements made by the PDI Perjuangan Faction and MY Esti Wijayati.

Instead, the declaration made by the PDI Perjuangan Faction on 25 February 2026 serves as an open clarification and critique of the government’s established policies within the 2026 State Budget. 

  • Critique of Official Policy: MY Esti Wijayati’s statement acts as a direct response to the provisions found within the 2026 State Budget Law (Law No. 17 of 2025). The PDIP Fraction utilised this press conference to present legal evidence that the funding for the Nutritious Meal Programme (MBG) is explicitly drawn from the education function's budget.
  • The Government’s Stance: Thus far, government representatives have maintained the narrative that the programme constitutes an "investment in human capital" within the education sector. However, they have yet to issue a formal press release to counter the specific figure of Rp223.5 trillion disclosed by the PDIP Fraction.
  • The Objective of the Statement: The PDIP statement was intended to alert the public to a "redefinition" of educational spending that they believe undermines academic priorities and teacher welfare. It also serves to provide political weight to the judicial review currently being heard by the Constitutional Court.

In summary, the PDIP statement emerged as a data-driven counter-argument based on state documents, challenging the government's previous narrative, which suggested that educational funding would remain unaffected by the meal initiative.

The situation remains deeply paradoxical. Procedurally, the PDI Perjuangan (PDIP) faction was part of the legislative process that ratified the 2026 Budget Law, yet substantively, they have emerged as the most vocal critics of the "redefinitions" contained within that very legislation.
From a constitutional standpoint, Law Number 17 of 2025 concerning the 2026 State Budget was approved jointly by the House of Representatives (DPR) and the Government. Given that PDIP holds the largest number of seats and occupies strategic positions—including the Speaker of the House and the Chair of the Budget Committee (Banggar)—it would have been technically impossible for this law to pass without their consent or, at the very least, a consensus at the leadership level. The Cabinet Secretary and several other parliamentarians have clarified that the Budget Law was approved by acclamation, meaning no faction—including PDIP—registered a formal objection or a dissenting vote during the plenary session for its ratification.
Despite having approved the body of the law, the PDIP faction (represented by figures such as MY Esti Wijayati and Adian Napitupulu) held a press conference on 25 February 2026 to "correct the public narrative". They argued that their initial approval of the Rp769.1 trillion education budget (the 20% mandatory spending) was based on the understanding that these funds were exclusively for academic purposes. However, they subsequently claimed to have discovered that within the Explanatory Notes of Article 22 of the 2026 Budget Law and the accompanying Presidential Regulation on Budget Details, clauses had been inserted that categorised the "nutritious meal programme" as a component of school operational funding.
The PDIP faction is currently adopting a defensive stance, asserting that many state officials had previously provided a public narrative suggesting that the MBG funds would be sourced from "ministry efficiency savings" rather than the education quota. Investigations suggest that PDIP's critique is an attempt to unveil the "budgetary veil" to the public, ensuring citizens are aware of the Rp223.5 trillion reduction in pure educational funding. They claim their current duty is to exercise their oversight function to prevent the public from being "misled" by the rhetoric of efficiency, even though, administratively, they were the ones who signed off on the regulations.
Legally, the PDIP faction did indeed approve the budget through the formal legislative process in the House. However, politically, they are now attempting to distance themselves from the consequences of that policy—such as neglected school infrastructure and stagnant teacher welfare—by exposing the technical details of the budget to the public. They contend that while they approved the headline figure of 20%, the implementation details—specifically the redefinition of education functions to include food logistics—are a move that requires urgent re-evaluation.

In the 2025 State Budget (APBN), the government allocated Rp71 trillion for the initial rollout of the MBG programme. While the government maintains that the 20% mandatory spending for education remains legally intact, critics and civil society groups, such as Indonesia Corruption Watch (ICW) and the National Education Network (JPPI), have highlighted that this funding is partially sourced by shifting priorities within the education sector. For instance, there were notable reductions in the targets for the Indonesia Smart Programme (PIP)—decreasing from 20.8 million students in 2024 to 20.4 million in 2025—and a significant drop in the quota for non-civil servant teacher professional allowances (TPG non-PNS).

The controversy has intensified regarding the 2026 State Budget, where the MBG allocation is projected to rise to approximately Rp335 trillion. According to legal filings and public reports:

  • Approximately Rp223 trillion (or roughly 29% of the total Rp769.1 trillion education budget) is reportedly being categorised as "educational operational funding" to support the MBG programme.
  • The National Nutrition Agency (BGN) manages these funds, which are consolidated from the education, health, and economic sectors.
  • In January 2026, several groups, including the Association for Education and Teachers (P2G), filed a judicial review with the Constitutional Court (MK) to challenge the use of the education budget for school meals, arguing it diminishes the fiscal space for essential needs such as teacher welfare, school infrastructure, and research.

The MBG programme has not "cut" the education budget in a nominal sense—as the total figure continues to grow—but it has fundamentally realigned the distribution of those funds. The primary concern raised by investigators is that by including "nutrition" under the umbrella of "education," the government is fulfilling the 20% constitutional requirement through food distribution rather than through direct academic investment. This has led to reports of delayed School Operational Assistance (BOS) funds and stagnant budgets for school renovations, with data showing that over 60% of elementary classrooms remain in various states of disrepair as of 2025.

In light of the detailed 2026 budget figures, the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) initiative stands as the single most significant expenditure within the educational sector, accounting for a substantial allocation of Rp223.6 trillion, representing approximately 29.1% of the total education budget. This figure notably exceeds the funding reserved for Teacher and Lecturer Welfare, which is set at Rp178.7 trillion and accounts for roughly 23.2% of the overall fiscal envelope. Furthermore, the allocation for School Operations (BOS) has been established at Rp64.3 trillion, contributing 8.4% to the total, followed closely by the funding for Student Scholarships (KIP/PIP), which amounts to Rp57.8 trillion or approximately 7.5% of the national education budget.

In dissecting the distribution of the Rp57.8 trillion student scholarship budget (KIP/PIP) for 2026, a striking disparity is evident between regions, as fund allocations remain heavily concentrated within Java compared to the frontier, outermost, and least developed areas known as the 3T regions. Although the government asserts that scholarship quotas are determined by the Integrated Social Welfare Data (DTKS), the reality on the ground indicates that provinces with the largest student populations, such as West Java, East Java, and Central Java, absorb nearly 45% of the total national scholarship ceiling. This presents a formidable challenge for regions such as Highland Papua, East Nusa Tenggara (NTT), and Maluku, which, despite possessing higher rates of extreme poverty, frequently face hurdles in validating population data and securing banking access that impede the effective disbursement of funds.

This inequality is further exacerbated by the budgetary reallocation for the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme, as regions outside Java with limited logistical infrastructure face a greater risk of scholarship quota reductions to cover the exorbitant food distribution costs in their territories. Education observers note that in Eastern Indonesia, the delivery cost of a single nutritious meal can be double that of Java, often resulting in a form of "budgetary cannibalism" where funds originally intended for increasing scholarship recipients are diverted to plug deficits in food logistics operational costs. Consequently, scholarship allocations in remote areas tend to remain stagnant or grow well below the rate of inflation, which in the long term may widen the gap in human resource quality between the central and regional provinces.

The continued utilisation of the mandatory education budget to fund the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme presents a complex fiscal trade-off that will likely reshape the Indonesian educational landscape across three distinct time horizons.

In the immediate term, the reallocation of funds is expected to trigger a liquidity crisis for individual schools, as School Operational Assistance (BOS) funds may be delayed or reduced to accommodate the daily cash flow requirements of the nutrition programme. This fiscal pressure will likely result in the further postponement of urgent repairs for the 60% of primary school classrooms currently in disrepair, as discretionary spending is sacrificed to ensure meal delivery remains uninterrupted. Furthermore, the administrative burden on teachers and school staff to oversee the logistics of daily catering could lead to a temporary decline in instructional quality and an increase in burnout.

Over the next three to five years, the primary concern lies in the stagnation of teacher welfare and recruitment. As nearly 30% of the education budget is absorbed by nutritional spending, the fiscal room for increasing the Teacher Professional Allowance (TPG) or transitioning contract teachers (PPPK) into permanent roles will be severely constrained. This could lead to a "brain drain" within the sector, where high-quality graduates eschew the teaching profession in favour of more lucrative industries, ultimately widening the gap in pedagogical quality between urban and rural areas. Additionally, the digital transformation of schools—such as the provision of hardware and high-speed internet—may stall as funds are prioritised for physical commodities rather than technological investment.

In the long run, the government’s gamble rests on the hypothesis that improved nutrition will lead to higher cognitive outcomes and a more productive workforce. However, if this comes at the expense of a crumbling educational infrastructure and a demoralised teaching force, Indonesia may face a Human Capital Paradox: a generation of children who are physically healthy but lack the advanced skills and critical thinking required for a high-tech global economy. The risk is that the quality of the "software" (curriculum, teaching, and digital literacy) will be permanently compromised to maintain the "hardware" (the physical health of students), potentially trapping the nation in a middle-income bracket despite its nutritional successes.

In his seminal work, "The Rebirth of Education: Schooling Ain't Learning," published in 2013 by the Center for Global Development, Lant Pritchett meticulously deconstructs the prevailing obsession with quantifiable educational metrics in developing nations. He argues that many countries have fallen into a systemic trap by conflating "schooling"—the physical act of attending an institution—with "learning," which is the actual acquisition of knowledge and cognitive ability. This distinction is central to his thesis that the rapid expansion of student enrolment and the construction of physical infrastructure, which he categorises as the "hardware" of the system, do not naturally translate into improved educational outcomes if the "software"—comprising the curriculum, teaching quality, and institutional accountability—remains dysfunctional.
Pritchett explains that simply increasing the education budget to build more classrooms or distribute resources often fails to correlate with enhanced cognitive skills because these inputs are frequently funnelled into a "flailing" bureaucratic system. He posits that many educational systems in developing countries are designed for "compliance" rather than "learning," where the primary objective becomes the administrative process of moving cohorts through grades regardless of their actual proficiency. Consequently, students may complete years of formal schooling while remaining functionally illiterate, a phenomenon he describes as a "learning crisis" that cannot be solved by merely increasing spending within the existing structural framework.
The author further asserts that for a system to be truly effective, it must undergo a fundamental shift from a centralised, top-down bureaucratic model to one that is focused on performance and local adaptability. Without such a radical transformation, additional funding—such as the reallocation of budgets for non-academic initiatives—risks being wasted on an "isomorphic mimicry" where the system looks like a functional educational body on the surface but lacks the essential capability to foster intellectual growth. Ultimately, Pritchett’s analysis serves as a stern warning that unless the core incentives and pedagogical methods are repaired, the massive investment of national resources will continue to yield negligible returns in human capital development.

The arguments put forward by Lant Pritchett provide a poignant lens through which to examine the current tensions between Indonesia’s Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme and the systemic deficiencies in its educational infrastructure. Pritchett’s central thesis—that "hardware" expansion is futile without "software" integrity—is directly challenged by the Indonesian government’s decision to reallocate Rp223.5 trillion from the education function to fund nutritional logistics. From a Pritchettian perspective, this move risks deepening the "learning crisis" because it diverts scarce resources away from the very "software" improvements, such as teacher training and curriculum reform, that are essential for turning physical presence in a classroom into actual cognitive growth. While the MBG programme seeks to enhance the physical readiness of students, the act of stripping the education budget to pay for it leaves the system unable to address the dilapidated state of schools in regions like NTT, thereby creating a scenario where healthy children are taught in collapsing buildings by under-supported educators.
Furthermore, the reduction of funds for essential components like the School Operational Assistance (BOS) and teacher welfare to accommodate the MBG initiative exemplifies what Pritchett describes as "isomorphic mimicry." By maintaining the 20% budget allocation on paper while redefining its contents to include food distribution, the state maintains the appearance of constitutional compliance while hollowing out the actual academic mission of the institutions. This creates a severe structural imbalance where the "hardware" of the state—the physical well-being of the populace—is prioritised at the direct expense of the "software" required for national productivity. Consequently, even if the MBG programme succeeds in eradicating stunting, the lack of adequate educational infrastructure and pedagogical quality ensures that these healthy students remain trapped in a system that cannot provide them with the skills necessary for economic mobility.
Ultimately, the link between Pritchett’s theories and the current Indonesian fiscal landscape suggests that the MBG programme, in its present funding form, may inadvertently exacerbate the Human Capital Paradox. By neglecting the urgent need for infrastructure repairs and professional teacher development in favour of a massive logistical exercise, the government risks presiding over a system that produces physically robust graduates who lack the intellectual tools to thrive in a modern economy. This underscores the necessity of a policy shift that protects the "software" of education from being cannibalised by "hardware" initiatives, ensuring that the development of the mind is never sacrificed for the maintenance of the body.

In their highly influential work "Poor Economics: A Radical Rethinking of the Way to Fight Global Poverty," published in 2011 by PublicAffairs, Nobel laureates Abhijit V. Banerjee and Esther Duflo offer a nuanced perspective on social interventions that carries significant implications for Indonesia’s Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) policy and the subsequent reduction in core education funding. The authors argue through rigorous randomised control trials that while "low-hanging fruit" interventions, such as providing free meals or health supplements, are effective in improving immediate physical welfare, they often fail to trigger long-term poverty alleviation if the underlying institutional incentives are misaligned. In the context of the Indonesian budget shift, Banerjee and Duflo’s research suggests that providing nutrition at the expense of teacher welfare and school operations might solve a "supply-side" problem of hunger while inadvertently worsening the "quality-side" problem of learning, as the lack of motivated teachers and functional classrooms remains the primary barrier to social mobility.
The authors further explore the concept of the "learning trap," where parents and governments alike overestimate the value of mere school attendance and basic physical health while underestimating the necessity of remedial support and pedagogical quality. Regarding the MBG programme, Poor Economics would caution that a massive logistical exercise in food distribution, if funded by cannibalising the education budget, may lead to a "quiet crisis" where students are physically present and healthy but remain intellectually stagnant because the system lacks the resources to teach them at their actual level of understanding. They emphasise that the most effective way to help the poor is not merely to provide resources but to ensure that those resources are delivered through a system that prizes accountability and effective learning outcomes, a goal that is rendered nearly impossible if the budget for "software"—such as teacher incentives and school maintenance—is depleted.
Banerjee and Duflo’s analysis suggests that for a programme like MBG to be truly transformative rather than merely palliative, it must be an "and" rather than an "or" in relation to educational quality. By stripping Rp223.5 trillion from the education function, the Indonesian government risks ignoring the authors' warning that the poor are often trapped in poverty not by a lack of calories, but by a lack of access to a high-quality education that can actually improve their life chances. Their work implies that the path forward should involve protecting the integrity of education spending while finding alternative, more efficient fiscal mechanisms for nutrition, thereby ensuring that the investment in a child’s stomach is not undermined by the structural collapse of their school system.

The Human Capital Paradox represents a critical developmental risk where a nation successfully addresses physical stunting and malnutrition but fails to provide the intellectual infrastructure necessary for high-level productivity. In the Indonesian context, this paradox suggests that while the Makan Bergizi Gratis (MBG) programme may produce a generation of physically healthy children, these students may graduate into a global economy without the advanced cognitive skills or digital literacy required to compete, simply because the funds for their teachers and classrooms were diverted to their dinner plates. The consequence of such a misalignment is a workforce that is "fit for labour" but "unfit for innovation," potentially trapping Indonesia in the middle-income bracket for decades as the quality of education remains stagnant despite improved physical stature.

To avoid this outcome, there is an urgent necessity to re-evaluate the MBG programme's funding structure, specifically by decoupling it from the mandatory 20% education budget. A viable solution would involve establishing the National Nutrition Agency (BGN) as a cross-sectoral body funded through a combination of the health budget, social assistance reserves, and potentially a dedicated "nutrition tax" on high-sugar or ultra-processed foods, thereby preserving the sanctity of the education fund for its constitutional purpose. By ring-fencing education spending exclusively for teacher welfare, pedagogical research, and digital infrastructure, the government could ensure that physical health initiatives complement rather than cannibalise academic development.

Furthermore, protecting Indonesian education from the volatility of such flagship political programmes requires a stricter legislative definition of "educational expenditure" to prevent the inclusion of logistical and nutritional costs under the guise of school operations. Strengthening the autonomy of the Education Fund Management Agency (LPDP) and establishing a permanent commission to oversee the 20% allocation would provide the necessary checks and balances to ensure that future initiatives are funded through genuine fiscal expansion rather than the redistribution of existing essential resources. Ultimately, the path forward must treat nutrition as a foundation for health and education as the engine of growth, ensuring that the development of the "stomach" never comes at the permanent expense of the "mind."

[Part 5]
[Part 3]

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Entering Ramadan 1447 H

 

Ramadan never truly arrives on the night the moon is sighted. By then, it has already been approaching us quietly for weeks—perhaps months—through a subtle unease in the conscience. There is a peculiar feeling that visits the believer before Ramadan: not excitement, not fear, but recognition. The recognition that time has not merely passed; it has been spent, and perhaps misspent.

Throughout the year, we live outwardly—working, speaking, reacting, consuming—yet rarely pausing long enough to examine the direction of the heart. Ramadan approaches precisely at the moment we begin to sense that our routines have become heavier than our intentions. The body has been active, but the soul has been waiting.

This is why many people instinctively begin to remember old prayers as Ramadan draws near. Forgotten supplications return to the tongue, unfinished repentance returns to the mind, and conversations with God that were postponed now quietly ask to be resumed. The month has not yet entered the calendar, yet it has already entered awareness.

There is also a gentle discomfort in this anticipation. One begins to wonder whether the previous Ramadan truly changed anything at all. Did patience remain after the hunger ended? Did restraint survive after the nights of prayer faded? The arrival of a new Ramadan carries with it an unspoken question: were we transformed, or merely occupied?

Therefore the days before Ramadan are not simply preparation; they are diagnosis. The believer does not merely prepare schedules of recitation but examines the condition of sincerity. For Ramadan does not come to add more actions into life, but to realign life itself. It interrupts before it instructs.

In this sense, Ramadan is less like a guest who visits us and more like a mirror that confronts us. And perhaps the unease we feel before it arrives is not anxiety about worship, but honesty about ourselves. The month is merciful—yet the clarity it brings can be unsettling.

Many people understand fasting as the discipline of the body, yet the Qur’anic language suggests something deeper—the discipline of perception. Hunger is not the destination of fasting but its instrument. The stomach is restrained so that the self may be revealed, for a person rarely meets their inner condition while constantly fulfilled.

When appetite is continuously satisfied, the self remains hidden behind comfort. But when the ordinary rhythm of consumption is interrupted, subtle truths surface: impatience in speech, irritation in tone, restlessness in thought. Fasting therefore exposes rather than suppresses. It does not create weakness; it uncovers it.

For this reason, the first fast is not of food but of reaction. A person may complete a day without eating and yet never have fasted from anger, pride, or needless argument. The body abstains by command, but the ego abstains only by awareness. Ramadan trains awareness before behaviour.

This explains why the tongue becomes central during the fast. Words travel faster than hunger, and harm reaches further than appetite. A restrained stomach without a restrained voice leaves the inner self untouched. Thus fasting is less about enduring emptiness and more about choosing gentleness.

Over the days, a subtle shift begins to occur. One no longer breaks the fast merely because sunset arrives, but because permission returns. The act of eating regains meaning; the act of speaking regains weight. Ordinary actions, temporarily suspended, return purified.

If fasting succeeds, the believer learns that self-control was never meant to exist only in Ramadan. The month does not manufacture virtues; it demonstrates that they were always possible. Hunger becomes the teacher that reveals how unnecessary excess had been all along.

The greatest loss in Ramadan is not hunger, nor fatigue, nor the shortening of sleep. The greatest loss is completing the month unchanged. For it is entirely possible to be busy in worship and yet absent from its meaning. Activity can increase while awareness remains still.

Ramadan fills the schedule easily. There are recitations to finish, gatherings to attend, charities to distribute, nights to occupy. Yet the heart can quietly remain outside all of it, performing devotion without entering devotion. The body stands in prayer while the self stands elsewhere.

In every age, believers have faced a subtle temptation—to measure faith by quantity rather than by transformation. Numbers are comforting because they are visible: pages completed, cycles prayed, days fasted. But the inward states that Ramadan seeks—patience, mercy, humility—cannot be counted so easily.

Modern life adds another layer to this risk. The month that was meant to conceal sincerity can become a stage upon which sincerity is displayed. Good actions, once private, begin to seek witnesses. The act remains, yet its direction shifts: from being offered to God to being presented to people.

Thus a person may protect their fast from food yet leave it unprotected from vanity. And vanity consumes faster than hunger ever could. What the stomach empties in hours, the ego can refill in moments.

The tragedy is not that worship was performed imperfectly—imperfection belongs to all human effort—but that the month passed without self-recognition. Ramadan is not a competition of endurance; it is an encounter with truth. To finish it unchanged is to have travelled without arriving.

Preparation for Ramadan is often imagined as organisation—arranging schedules, planning recitations, deciding charitable targets. Yet the earliest preparation begins where no timetable can reach: in reconciliation. Before increasing acts of worship, one must reduce the burdens the heart carries into them.

Repentance, in this sense, is not a dramatic declaration but a quiet clearing. The believer acknowledges unfinished conversations with God and resumes them without ceremony. One does not wait to become better before turning back; turning back is precisely how betterment begins.

Likewise, forgiveness becomes a form of readiness. Resentment occupies space that remembrance requires. A heart crowded with old grievances struggles to hold new sincerity. To release others is therefore not generosity toward them alone but mercy toward oneself.

Another preparation is the deliberate reduction of noise. Ramadan does not change the world around us; it changes how much of it we allow inside us. By loosening unnecessary engagements — arguments, excess entertainment, restless comparison — attention becomes available again. Worship rarely enters a life that is already full.

Finally, one chooses not many ambitions but one honest intention. A single sustained change survives longer than numerous brief enthusiasms. The aim of preparation is not to perform more, but to receive more. Ramadan benefits the heart that has made room for it.

Thus the days before the month are less about anticipation and more about alignment. The calendar will turn regardless; the question is whether the inner direction turns with it. A prepared heart recognises Ramadan not merely as a date, but as an opening. 

Every Ramadan presents itself publicly, yet it is lived privately. The crowds in prayer, the shared fast-breaking meals, the collective anticipation of Eid — all of these are visible expressions. But the most decisive conversations of the month occur where no one else can hear them. Thus a personal covenant becomes essential.

This covenant is not a dramatic pledge of perfection. It is a quiet agreement between the believer and their own conscience. One asks not, “How much will I accomplish?” but rather, “What must I finally confront?” The purpose is not spiritual display, but spiritual honesty.

For some, the covenant may involve guarding the tongue with greater vigilance. For others, it may mean repairing a neglected relationship, or establishing one consistent act of charity that continues beyond the month. The strength of a covenant lies not in its scale, but in its sincerity.

It is tempting in Ramadan to compare one’s devotion with that of others. Yet comparison subtly shifts worship from devotion to competition. The covenant therefore includes a refusal to measure oneself against another’s rhythm. Each soul has its own wounds to mend and its own path to walk.

Depth must take precedence over quantity. A single page read with reflection can outweigh many read in haste. A brief prayer offered with presence can exceed a long one offered with distraction. Ramadan does not reward speed; it nurtures awareness.

Above all, the covenant must extend beyond the thirtieth day. If a habit cannot survive Eid, it was perhaps enthusiasm rather than transformation. The truest sign of a fruitful Ramadan is continuity — a patience that lingers, a restraint that endures, a remembrance that persists when celebration ends.

Another preparation is the deliberate reduction of noise. Ramadan does not change the world around us; it changes how much of it we allow inside us. By loosening unnecessary engagements—arguments, excess entertainment, restless comparison—attention becomes available again. Worship rarely enters a life that is already full.

Finally, one chooses not many ambitions but one honest intention. A single sustained change survives longer than numerous brief enthusiasms. The aim of preparation is not to perform more, but to receive more. Ramadan benefits the heart that has made room for it.

Thus the days before the month are less about anticipation and more about alignment. The calendar will turn regardless; the question is whether the inner direction turns with it. A prepared heart recognises Ramadan not merely as a date, but as an opening.

Perhaps the success of Ramadan is not measured by how intensely we lived within it, but by how gently it continues to live within us afterwards. The month passes as all months pass, yet it leaves traces that ordinary time does not. If nothing of it remains once the celebrations fade, then we may have accompanied the days without ever accompanying their meaning.

Ramadan does not come to decorate our routines but to interrupt them. It pauses our habits long enough for us to notice that many of them were never necessary. We learn, briefly, that we can eat less, speak less, react less — and yet feel more. The reduction of excess becomes the discovery of sufficiency.

There is a mercy in the temporary nature of the month. Because it ends, it teaches us that transformation was never meant to depend on a season. The departure of Ramadan is not a withdrawal of guidance, but a test of whether guidance has been internalised. The calendar turns back to ordinary days; the believer is asked not to.

Thus the farewell to Ramadan should not resemble relief, but responsibility. One does not say goodbye to a guest, but carries forward a trust. What was practised for thirty days becomes proof of what is possible for the rest of the year.

In the end, Ramadan is not merely a period we enter; it is a truth we encounter. And the question it leaves behind is simple yet demanding: will we wait another year to return to ourselves, or begin from the morning after?