Every Ramzan, like clockwork, our screens light up.
Beautiful sets. Star-studded couches. Emotional segments. Surprise guests. Giveaways. Viral clips. And of course — that one moment everyone will be talking about.
We had barely recovered from last year’s “Filhal” chaos — the tears, the spectacle, the endless discourse — and now, once again, a Ramzan transmission has given us a full-blown dramatic scene that feels more like primetime soap than sacred programming.
And it makes you wonder: is this what Ramzan transmissions are meant to be?
Before someone says, “To each their own” — yes, absolutely. Entertainment has its place. Ramzan doesn’t mean we must switch to monotone sermons and abandon joy. Laughter, lightness, even celebrity presence — none of that is inherently wrong.
But here’s the uncomfortable question: when did the goal quietly shift from impact to impressions?
Somewhere along the way, Ramzan transmissions became less about reflection and more about reels. Less about substance and more about soundbites. The race isn’t for meaningful dialogue — it’s for that one viral clip that trends by midnight.
And that’s where it feels off.
Because these platforms aren’t small. They command millions of viewers — families gathered at iftar, young people scrolling between bites, entire households tuning in daily. If there is any time of the year when audiences are more receptive, more introspective, more spiritually open — it is now.
So shouldn’t that space be used for something more?
Not necessarily rigid religious programming. Not endless lectures. But conversations that educate. Stories that inspire growth. Segments that highlight community work, mental health, financial responsibility, compassion, civic awareness. Discussions that actually equip the generation watching.
Ramzan is about restraint. About intention. About cleansing not just appetite, but ego.
So why do our screens feel louder than ever?
The irony is hard to ignore. A month that teaches us to quiet the self has become a battleground of ratings. A time meant for reflection now competes for reaction.
And maybe the bigger question is not just about the hosts or the channels — but about us.
What are we rewarding?
If the most dramatic moment gets the most shares, if the most sensational clip gets the most engagement, then can we really blame platforms for chasing what trends?
But still — influence comes with responsibility. If you brand something as a “Ramzan special,” there is an implied promise. A certain standard. A certain spirit.
At the very least, shouldn’t we expect to walk away with something more than just gossip?
Ramzan transmissions don’t have to be preachy. They don’t have to be heavy. But they should feel intentional. Grounded. Conscious of the space they occupy.
Because in a month meant to nourish the soul, surely the content we consume should do the same.
