(RNS) — I visited Lahore just as the month of Ramzan (or Ramadan) and the season of Lent were about to begin.  

For me, a question loomed. How do I balance my religious obligation as a Sikh with my desire to have solidarity, especially with my Muslim friends with whom I was staying?   

As a Sikh, I believe I am prohibited from fasting for religious reasons. For example, Siri Guru Granth Sahib says:  

pujaa vart tilak isnaanaa pun daan bahu dain  

Kahun na bheejae swami bolhae methae bain  

(“Worshiping, fasting, ceremonial marks on forehead, cleansing baths, generous donations to charities and self-mortification: God is not pleased with any of these, no matter how sweetly one may speak.”)  

For the first few days, I observed my Muslim friends eating the morning sehri (or suhur) meal before sunrise, fasting until iftar at sunset and performing the five daily namaz (prayers). Then,I decided I would undertake a fast for one day — not for religious reasons, but for friendship.  

At my request, around 4 a.m., my Muslim friends woke me up, and we had a light meal of sehri with our servant sitting with us at the table — something that rarely happens in India. A loud siren sounded, signaling the start of the fasting period. I said my morning Sikh prayers, then went back to sleep.  

Waking up around 9 a.m. or so was easy, but the next hour was difficult. My throat hurt and begged for water. Being diabetic, I decided I would abstain from food but not water during the daytime. No morning “chai” — rarely have I skipped a cup of morning tea. Soon, the early morning stomach churning passed.  

In the afternoon, my friend Abdul and I headed to the historic Lahore Polo Club for the finals of the Punjab Polo Cup. The pre-game tent show was exhilarating, but by the time the game began at 3:30 p.m., I had a throbbing headache from hunger. I found walking around helped the headache, although it didn’t stop my stomach from growling.

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At 5 p.m., back in the apartment, I wanted to keep moving and decided to cook Hyderabadi layered mutton biryani. It kept me busy till it was time to break the fast a few minutes before 6 p.m.  

I sat at the table with Abdul, our driver Ali and Bilal. Before us there were dates, strawberry shakes, hot pakoras and sliced apples. Each of us bowed our heads, but my prayer was different from the silent prayer of my Muslim companions. I recited the Sabad of Bhagat Kabir enshrined in Siri Guru Granth Sahib:  

Aval Allah noor upaya kudrat kae sab bandae  

Ik noor tae sab jag upjaya kaun bhalae kau mandae  

(“Allah first made the light and through its creative power, made all people. The universe has arisen from the same light, so how can we say who is good or bad?”)  

This was a deeply spiritual moment for me. I fully understood the meaning of Ramzan — a time to cleanse your body and soul so your true self can regenerate itself.  

The next morning, I shared with Arif, one of the domestic staff, a sweeper, about the fast I had undertaken with Muslim friends. As a Pakistani Christian, he told me, he was fasting 24 hours for Lent. “Would you,” he asked, “like to fast with me for a day?”   

Without considering how a diabetic like me would abstain from food for 24 hours, I instantly said yes. I then offered to come to his home to break the 24-hour fast and meet his family. He readily agreed.  

I found the all-day Christian fast easier. Eating a hearty meal after sunset with my Muslim friends, I traveled most of the next day and headed out to Arif to break the fast that evening with his family. I was welcomed into Arif’s home with a shower of rose petals. We settled in the back room — which I then realized was a makeshift neighborhood chapel. Arif and his wife, Sana, were pastors in a non-denominational church.  

During the hour-long service, about 20 people sang Christian hymns in Urdu and Panjabi, and a young man played a small drum instrument. At the end of the service, I was honored with a garland of roses and a heartwarming surprise: A bowl of water was brought forth for the pastor and his wife to wash my feet. When I asked why, they explained that this was done in honor of Jesus, who had washed the feet of his disciples. Then, we sat on the floor to break the fast.  

Both experiences of fasting taught me important lessons:   

First, being hungry all day is nothing compared to keeping your thoughts clean — that requires deep moral courage. In my own faith, Sikhs are called upon at every moment to reduce the panj chor (five thieves) of kaam (lust), Krodh (rage), Lobh (greed), Moh (attachment) and Ahankar (ego). For Muslims, Ramzan exemplifies a similar principle of reducing these five thieves in our daily lives. Fasting in Lent is about reflection, repentance and reconciliation.  

Finally, journeying with our friends — in this case, fasting with them — is a way to show solidarity and friendship with our friends of other faiths. 

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(Tarunjit Singh Butalia executive director of Religions for Peace USA and member of the executive committee of Faith in Public Life. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)