In this opinion piece, In Real Life contributor Nazmie shares his personal reflections on Ramadan in Malaysia.
Every year, as Ramadan rolls in, Malaysia settles into a familiar rhythm. The air fills with the smell of ayam percik and murtabak from bustling bazaars, roads miraculously clear up just before sunset, and people start plotting their long Raya leave and complain about expensive flights.
It’s a season of reflection, discipline, and community. But with it comes an annual debate that never seems to go away—what’s the proper etiquette for eating in public during Ramadan?
The Ramadan Experience in Malaysia
For Muslims, Ramadan is more than just fasting. It’s a month-long test of self-control, an opportunity to reset spiritually, and a reminder of what it feels like to go without.
The hunger pangs are one thing, but the real challenge is in the small moments—when your colleague reheats last night’s sambal udang in the office microwave, and the whole room suddenly smells like a war against your willpower.
But at the heart of fasting is patience, and understanding that the world doesn’t stop just because you’re skipping lunch.
For non-Muslims, Ramadan brings a different kind of adjustment. Your favorite makan joint might be closed, your Muslim friends reject your offer to lepak together during lunch, and there’s an unspoken uncertainty—should you eat in front of them? Does the smell of the food offend them? Should you just eat in the toilet like you’re smuggling contraband?
As Malaysians, how do we navigate this shared experience?
But What’s the Proper Etiquette, Actually?
So, should non-Muslims avoid eating in public? Some say it’s a simple matter of respect—no one is asking you to fast, but maybe don’t sit right next to your Muslim friend at work with a giant plate of char kuey teow and loudly exclaim, “Wah, damn sedap!”
Others argue that Islam never requires non-Muslims to follow its rules, and fasting is about self-discipline, not policing others.
Both perspectives make sense. But how does it actually feel on both sides?
Here’s What It’s Like for Fasting Muslims
Imagine this: It’s lunchtime, and you’re the only Muslim in a team of non-fasting colleagues. They decide to hold an impromptu pizza party in the office. Everyone’s gathered around, laughing, opening box after box of piping hot pepperoni goodness.
Someone goes, “Eh, try this one, the cheese pull damn power!” before remembering, “Oh ya, you fasting ah?” Then they awkwardly offer you… a seat closer to the window, as if fresh air will help.
Now, of course, you know they’re not doing this to be cruel. But when you’re running on nothing but sahur leftovers and sheer willpower, it does feel a little… isolating.
It’s not that you expect the whole world to stop eating—it’s just nice when people are a bit more mindful. Maybe shift the party to after work, or at least not wave the food directly in someone’s face.
That being said, not every Muslim feels the same way. Some really don’t mind, some even sit with their non-Muslim friends during lunch like it’s no big deal.
So where does that leave non-Muslims?
Here’s What It’s Like for Non-Muslims
Now flip the situation. You’re at work, and it’s lunch hour. You’re starving. You head to the pantry to eat your economy rice, but as you sit down, you realize you’re the only one eating while your Muslim colleagues are chit-chatting nearby.
You feel self-conscious. Should you hide your food? Eat faster? Apologize?
It can be confusing. No one explicitly says, “Don’t eat in front of me,” but the pressure is there. Some offices even send out memos asking non-Muslims to be discreet, which can feel like an overcorrection—after all, no one asks non-Hindus to stop eating beef, or non-Christians to avoid alcohol in December.
At the same time, you don’t want to seem insensitive.
A little reassurance from Muslim friends goes a long way here. A casual “Don’t worry, you can eat, I’m okay” makes things a lot less awkward.
Because at the end of the day, it’s not about avoiding food—it’s about avoiding unnecessary tension.
Finding the Middle Ground
Ramadan is a test of patience for Muslims, but it’s also a test of Malaysia’s multicultural harmony. The reality is, Muslims who fast in a mixed crowd aren’t asking for special treatment—they’re simply practicing their faith.
And non-Muslims, for the most part, do want to be respectful, they just don’t always know how.
But when respect turns into policing, or misunderstanding turns into confrontation—that’s when we start to lose what makes us uniquely Malaysian: our ability to live with difference.
Just recently, this very tension spilled into something much uglier. In Johor Bahru, a 65-year-old man was charged in court for allegedly slapping a non-Muslim youth who was seen eating at a convenience store during Ramadan. The video went viral, and condemnation came quickly — from citizens and ministers alike.
It wasn’t just about one man’s overreaction. It was a reminder that when we let intolerance take the wheel, even something as mundane as lunch can escalate into violence.
This isn’t the Malaysia most of us want. We’re better than that.
Because let’s be honest — if we start enforcing “respect” through aggression, where does it end? No religion teaches violence as a solution. What we need isn’t fear-based compliance, but real mutual understanding. Not silence, but conversation.
If you’re fasting, remember that others aren’t obligated to. And if you’re eating, remember that someone nearby might be pushing through a tough day of self-restraint. A little awareness — a little consideration — goes a long way.
And let’s not forget the best part—Ramadan is also about togetherness. The same colleagues who tiptoe around food all month? They’ll be the first ones excitedly following you to the nearest bazaar when it’s buka time.
Non-Muslims may feel cautious about eating near their fasting friends, but come Raya, you know everybody bands together and stuff themselves silly at open houses with lemang and rendang.
In The End, We Are All Malaysians
Year after year, we have the same discussions about Ramadan etiquette. And year after year, we still end up at the same Ramadan bazaars, plan for the same long holiday, and still celebrate Hari Raya together like it’s second nature.
That’s the Malaysia we should be protecting.
Have a story to tell?
Submit your story to us at ym.efillaerni@olleh and you may be featured on In Real Life Malaysia.
Read also:
“I Was Judged For Not Fasting,” Shares M’sian Man Who Lost His Job During Ramadan – In Real Life
More from Opinion
“M’sians are sitting on a Goldmine,” says S’porean Finance Guru after comparing EPF and CPF dividends
This story is about a Singaporean finance guru’s remarks on Malaysia’s EPF dividends which has sparked debates amongst Malaysians online.
“It’s Too Late Now,” M’sian Woman Regrets That Her Children Will Never Be Malaysian
One Malaysian mother shares her regret that her children would never grow up with Malaysian citizenship as they cannot hold …
How Should M’sians Respond to Casual Racism Like The Sepang Corn Seller’s K*l*ng Sign?
The recent controversy surrounding a corn seller's racist signage in Sepang has sparked a broader debate on how Malaysians should …
