It was the hunger that surprised me most. Not the kind that makes your stomach growl — but a quiet, long ache that moved through the day like the sun across the sky. My name won’t appear in any hadith, but I lived in Medina, and I once carried water to the mosque where Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught the people. That was where I first learned about the fasts on Mondays and Thursdays.
I remember that morning clearly. The Prophet ﷺ — may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him — had already entered the masjid, and the early light spilled across the date-palm trunks that held up the roof. I stood outside, clutching my water bag. An old friend of my father’s, a kind man named Harith, sat down beside me. He noticed I didn’t join the others in eating the small morning meal before Fajr.
“You’re not eating, Basim?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I thought... maybe I’d fast today,” I answered. “It’s Monday.”
He smiled and nodded. “The Prophet ﷺ fasted on Mondays because that was the day he was born, and the day the revelation began.”
I didn’t know that. It made me sit straighter. I had been fasting during Ramadan, of course, but fasting on other days? That was new to me. Harith went on to say that the Prophet ﷺ was also known to fast on Thursdays. When I asked why, he explained something I would carry in my heart forever.
“Because deeds are raised to Allah on those days,” he said. “And he liked that his deeds would be shown while he was fasting.”
That touched something deep in me. It wasn’t just about hunger. It was about being empty for a reason — giving space in your body and heart for something greater.
The first time I tried it was hard. My head ached. I didn’t have the same energy to carry buckets for our neighbors. The sun felt heavier on my skin. But something else happened, too. My thoughts grew clearer. I spoke less. I prayed longer. By sunset, when I lifted my hands to make du‘a — the personal prayer to Allah — my words felt more real.
On Thursdays, it became easier. I began to remind myself: “Right now, my deeds are being raised. What do I want to take with them?” That thought made me speak more kindly. It held me back from impatience when my younger brother dropped the figs and blamed me.
Once, a traveler asked me, “Why fast so often? Isn’t Ramadan enough?”
I told him what I had learned: “The Prophet ﷺ gave extra to Allah, not because he had to, but because he loved Him.”
Now, even years later, when my knees ache and I cannot carry water like before, I still fast when I can. And when I do, it feels like I’m walking in the steps of the one who showed us the way — quietly giving, showing love through sacrifice, and trusting that Allah sees every hunger, every effort, every turning of the heart.
Story Note: Inspired by Hadith traditions in Sahih Bukhari (1986) and Sahih Muslim (1159), which mention the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ fasting on Mondays and Thursdays.
It was the hunger that surprised me most. Not the kind that makes your stomach growl — but a quiet, long ache that moved through the day like the sun across the sky. My name won’t appear in any hadith, but I lived in Medina, and I once carried water to the mosque where Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught the people. That was where I first learned about the fasts on Mondays and Thursdays.
I remember that morning clearly. The Prophet ﷺ — may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him — had already entered the masjid, and the early light spilled across the date-palm trunks that held up the roof. I stood outside, clutching my water bag. An old friend of my father’s, a kind man named Harith, sat down beside me. He noticed I didn’t join the others in eating the small morning meal before Fajr.
“You’re not eating, Basim?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I thought... maybe I’d fast today,” I answered. “It’s Monday.”
He smiled and nodded. “The Prophet ﷺ fasted on Mondays because that was the day he was born, and the day the revelation began.”
I didn’t know that. It made me sit straighter. I had been fasting during Ramadan, of course, but fasting on other days? That was new to me. Harith went on to say that the Prophet ﷺ was also known to fast on Thursdays. When I asked why, he explained something I would carry in my heart forever.
“Because deeds are raised to Allah on those days,” he said. “And he liked that his deeds would be shown while he was fasting.”
That touched something deep in me. It wasn’t just about hunger. It was about being empty for a reason — giving space in your body and heart for something greater.
The first time I tried it was hard. My head ached. I didn’t have the same energy to carry buckets for our neighbors. The sun felt heavier on my skin. But something else happened, too. My thoughts grew clearer. I spoke less. I prayed longer. By sunset, when I lifted my hands to make du‘a — the personal prayer to Allah — my words felt more real.
On Thursdays, it became easier. I began to remind myself: “Right now, my deeds are being raised. What do I want to take with them?” That thought made me speak more kindly. It held me back from impatience when my younger brother dropped the figs and blamed me.
Once, a traveler asked me, “Why fast so often? Isn’t Ramadan enough?”
I told him what I had learned: “The Prophet ﷺ gave extra to Allah, not because he had to, but because he loved Him.”
Now, even years later, when my knees ache and I cannot carry water like before, I still fast when I can. And when I do, it feels like I’m walking in the steps of the one who showed us the way — quietly giving, showing love through sacrifice, and trusting that Allah sees every hunger, every effort, every turning of the heart.
Story Note: Inspired by Hadith traditions in Sahih Bukhari (1986) and Sahih Muslim (1159), which mention the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ fasting on Mondays and Thursdays.
