his February has taken on greater cultural urgency than usual, as it precedes Ramazan, which is expected to begin by the end of the month.

In some Muslim countries, where the month of fasting is also one of feasting, filled with revelry and pomp, the daily routine undergoes a complete shift. Nights become days, and days become nights – activities traditionally associated with the daytime are moved to the evening, and nightlife flourishes from iftar to sehr. After suhoor, most people sleep and wake up only to prepare once again for the breaking of the fast.

However, in the subcontinent, where people are not blessed with gushing oil wealth and must continue working, albeit with reduced capacity, Ramazan is seen as a month of piety and sobriety. The atmosphere turns sombre as people scale down their usual activities or replace them with religious rituals. The emphasis shifts towards seeking forgiveness, divine mercy and helping others through charity.

Marriages, the most important social occasion, are typically put on hold as families wait for Ramazan to pass before resuming celebrations. Music, per se, is often replaced by recitations of religious and quasi-religious texts, though in recent years, qawwali has gained increasing acceptance as a form of spiritual music. Its exponential popularity stems from the perception that it is music Islamised.

Yet, squeezed between the arrival of spring and the onset of Ramazan, Lahore experiences its most beautiful season – a time when the hibernation of winter gives way to renewed activity. This year, as usual, the Faiz Festival will take place in mid-February to celebrate his birth anniversary – a poignant reminder of all that society has yet to achieve. The festival’s indulgence in talking, talking, talking exposes the underbelly of our failures, particularly in a world where progress and achievement define civilised societies.

Squeezed between the arrival of spring and the onset of Ramazan, Lahore experiences its most beautiful season – a time when the hibernation of winter gives way to renewed activity. 

Simultaneously, the National Horse and Cattle Show is in progress – a throwback to an era when an agrarian social order was a source of pride and celebration. Under Ayub Khan, the event expanded to include acrobatics and gymnastics, mostly performed by armed forces, paramilitary, and civil security personnel. The people of Lahore, as well as visiting heads of state, found great delight in these spectacular displays of light and sound. Alongside, an industrial exhibition was also organised, providing local industries with an opportunity to showcase their products at a time when Pakistan’s industrial base was expanding.

Cricket, Pakistan’s most beloved sport, has grown exponentially over the decades. A welcome development this year is the return of the Champions Trophy – a major international event, marking the end of a long pause.

Beyond the sport itself, cricket carries ceremonial significance, with fireworks displays growing more spectacular with each passing year. However, sports – once seen as a substitute for war – are increasingly entangled in political conflicts. The boycotts and withdrawals witnessed in international tournaments only reflect geopolitical tensions.

It would have been far better had India visited Pakistan for this tournament. Instead, they chose to prioritise politics over the game, opting to play at a ‘neutral’ venue. Rather than fostering unity, sports have, in many ways, deepened divisions.

The writer is a culture critic based in Lahore.