Ramadan in Makkah: What It’s Like to Fast in The Holiest City

I had always imagined what it would be like to spend Ramadan in Makkah. But being here? It’s something else. No matter how many times I try to put it into words, I don’t think I can truly capture the feeling. It’s not just about fasting. It’s not just about being in the holiest city. It’s about something deeper—something that shakes you to your core.

If you’ve ever dreamed of experiencing Ramadan in Makkah, let me take you there through my journey.

Suhoor in Makkah: The city that never sleeps

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The first thing you notice is that Makkah never really sleeps during Ramadan. Long before Fajr, the streets are alive. I step outside my hotel, and the scent of freshly baked bread and simmering lentil soup fills the air. Restaurants stay open, but honestly, you don’t even need to buy anything. Generosity is everywhere.

There are volunteers handing out free meals—dates, laban (a yoghurt drink), fruit, and sometimes a full plate of rice and meat. Strangers insist you take more food, urging you to eat well before your fast begins. It’s humbling.

As I make my way to Masjid al-Haram, I feel the weight of where I am. I see people walking beside me, their eyes full of longing, their lips moving in silent prayers. We all share the same intention. The same devotion. The same hope.

Inside the mosque, the air is cool, and the Kaaba stands before me—majestic, powerful, and real. I’ve seen it in pictures my whole life. But now, I’m here. Right in front of it. And for a moment, everything else fades away.

Also read: Top 5 Most Beautiful Mosques in Saudi Arabia

Fasting in Makkah: When Hunger Takes a Backseat

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Back home, fasting sometimes feels like a countdown to Iftar. But here? It’s different.

It’s not that you don’t feel hungry or thirsty—you do. But there’s something greater than that. A sense of peace. A feeling that this fast isn’t just about abstaining from food. It’s about cleansing the soul.

Time moves differently in Makkah. The day doesn’t revolve around food or thirst. Instead, it’s filled with prayers, Quran recitation, and quiet reflection.

I see an old man sitting alone, his prayer beads moving between his fingers. I see a young boy holding his father’s hand, staring up at the Kaaba with wide eyes. I hear the soft murmurs of people whispering prayers, asking Allah for things only He can grant.

It makes me wonder—when was the last time I made dua with this much sincerity?

Iftar in Makkah: A Meal Filled with Barakah

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As the sun begins to set, the energy shifts. People start lining up inside and outside the mosque, spreading plastic mats across the marble floor. And then, the distribution begins.

Massive trays of dates, yoghurt, bread, and Zamzam water are handed out. Volunteers rush to make sure every single person has something to break their fast with. I watch as people offer food to complete strangers before taking anything for themselves. The generosity here is overwhelming.

I don’t even have to think about buying food. Everything is provided, and it’s not just about filling stomachs. It’s about the barakah of feeding one another.

The moment the Adhan for Maghrib is called, everyone takes that first sip of water, that first bite of a date. And in that instant, there’s a collective sigh of relief. A moment of pure gratitude.

We quickly pray Maghrib, and then the entire mosque prepares for something even more powerful—Taraweeh.

Taraweeh in the Grand Mosque: A prayer that moves you to tears

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I’ve prayed Taraweeh my whole life. But nothing compares to this, I don’t know how to describe it.

Imagine standing shoulder to shoulder with thousands of people, all facing the Kaaba, all moving as one. The Imam’s recitation fills the air, and it’s so powerful that you feel it in your bones.

And then, suddenly, you hear someone crying.

It starts with just one voice, then another. Before you know it, the entire congregation is in tears. The dua is long, deep, and raw. It feels like the entire ummah is pouring their hearts out to Allah at the same time.

I try to hold it together, but I can’t. My own tears come before I even realise it. It’s not sadness. It’s something else.

I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the sheer beauty of the recitation. Maybe it’s the realisation of how blessed I am to be standing here. Or maybe it’s knowing that Allah is listening. Right now. To me. To all of us.

By the time the prayers end, it’s nearly midnight. But nobody wants to leave. Some sit in quiet reflection. Others gather in small groups, sipping tea, and talking about their experiences.

Makkah doesn’t just bring people together—it brings hearts together.

Also read: Ramadan in Morocco: Traditions, Food, and Spirituality You Must Experience

Second Ashra of Ramadan: A reminder that time is slipping away

We’re nearly at the halfway point of Ramadan. That thought hits me hard.

It feels like I just arrived. Like I just started this journey. And yet, here we are, 9 days in. In just a few more nights, the last ten days will begin, and the spiritual intensity will reach another level.

Tonight, I sit near the Kaaba, watching people make Tawaf in the cool night air. Some are praying, others are simply staring at the House of Allah, lost in thought. I wonder what they’re asking for. Forgiveness? Guidance? A second chance?

I close my eyes and whisper my own dua. I ask for forgiveness. For guidance. For another chance to be here again.

And in that moment, I realised—this is what my soul has been craving all along.

Because once you’ve experienced Ramadan in Makkah, nothing else will ever feel the same.

What’s next? The last 10 nights are coming…

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If the first Ashra has been this spiritually overwhelming, I can only imagine what the last 10 nights will be like. The nights of Laylatul Qadr. The nights when destinies are written.

I know the energy in Makkah is about to shift again. More people will arrive. More prayers will be made. More tears will fall.

And I’ll be here for it.

If you’ve ever dreamed of spending Ramadan in Makkah, let me tell you this—just come. No words, no video, no story can ever do justice to what it feels like to be here. You just have to experience it for yourself.

And when you do, you’ll understand why my heart already aches at the thought of leaving.

Heart to heart: Don’t just dream it. Plan for it. Make the intention. And when you do get the chance—don’t take a single second for granted.