Where Are Those Old Ramadans: Ramadan Traditions in the Ottoman Empire

In the Ottoman Empire, Ramadan was not merely a month marked on the calendar; it was an entirely different temporal realm in which the soul of the city transformed, daily life adopted a new rhythm, and nights became more vividly alive than days. When Ramadan arrived, it was not only people but also streets, mosques, homes, and even the sky that prepared for it. For the Ottomans, Ramadan was not only a season of worship but also a city culture, a social mobilization, and a test of grace.

One of the first signs heralding the arrival of Ramadan were the mahya. Messages written in lanterns stretched between minarets did not merely illuminate the dark nights of Istanbul; they spoke. Expressions such as “Welcome, O City of Ramadan,” “Hello,” “Patience,” and “Gratitude” hung in the sky like celestial advice. Although lighting lanterns had been known since the early days of Islam, creating illuminated letters between minarets was a uniquely Ottoman refinement. From the 16th century onward, mahyas became the most magnificent signal that Ramadan had descended upon the city.

The nights were filled not only with light but also with sound. As the time for iftar approached, a sweet anticipation settled over the city. In an era without clocks or telephones, everyone waited for the same sound: iftar topu. A ball launched from a secure point in the city announced to every neighborhood that the fast would be broken with the call to prayer. This sound was the herald of reward for those who had endured the day.

A Visual Depicting Ramadan Traditions in the Ottoman Empire (Generated by Artificial Intelligence)

Iftar was not confined to homes alone. Squares, tents, mansions, and neighborhood alleys filled with iftar tables. At Ramadan tents, everyone broke their fast together, strangers and acquaintances sharing the same table. Conversations that began after the Tarawih prayers continued until suhoor. In the later hours of the night, shadow plays were set up in the squares. Children and adults alike burst into laughter at the wit of Karagöz and Hacivat, turning Ramadan nights into festivals of entertainment and culture. As suhoor approached, crowds gathered at large open spaces such as Feshane and Sultanahmet Square, where suhoor tables were set up. These tables embodied the most vivid expressions of Ramadan’s spirit of unity and togetherness.

One of the most elegant aspects of Ramadan in the Ottoman Empire was its culture of mutual aid. This assistance was rendered without embarrassing anyone or seeking display. The Zimem defteri was its most striking example. A person, knowing their own circumstances, would enter a local grocer’s shop in a neighborhood they had never visited, request the credit ledger, and purchase entire pages to settle debts. Neither the payer nor the debtor ever learned who had paid whom. A small note pinned to the corner of the shop merely indicated that the debts had been cleared. Help was given in silence, and prayers were offered in silence.

Iftar tables had their own distinct etiquette. The fast was never broken abruptly with heavy meals. First, light dishes known as “iftariye” were consumed, then the evening prayer was performed, and only afterward did the main meal begin. This reflected both religious sensitivity and medical wisdom: the stomach, empty for hours, was not overloaded at once, and self-control over the soul was preserved.

Ramadan pide was the indispensable symbol of these tables. As iftar time neared, the scent of pide filling the streets became one of Ramadan’s most memorable signatures. These pides, baked exclusively for this holy month, were the crowns of the tables due to their intricate preparation and symbolic value. Even the tails of the pides were a natural part of the Ramadan landscape.

In Ottoman mansions, iftar was truly open to all. Whoever knocked on the door was never turned away. After iftar, guests were given gifts known as diş kirası, in recognition of their effort to come and partake. Especially poor families were invited, and coins were given to children. Even charity was delivered in the language of courtesy.

The Time When Grace, Mutual Aid, and Spirituality Descended Upon the City (Generated by Artificial Intelligence)

For children, Ramadan was a source of special excitement. Through the Tekne orucu, children fasted until noon, thus gradually becoming accustomed to fasting and learning the meaning of Ramadan. At day’s end, they were rewarded with small gifts. This was a gentle way of introducing children to religious and cultural life.

As Ramadan nights deepened, the city grew even more vibrant. Crowds leaving Tarawih prayers did not disperse in mosque courtyards or squares; instead, they gathered anew as if the true night had just begun. Especially around Sultanahmet Camii and Süleymaniye Camii, Ramadan nights transformed into bustling fairs. Sherbet sellers, confectioners, storytellers, booksellers, toy vendors… each was an integral part of Ramadan’s nocturnal culture. People came not primarily to shop but to spend time, converse, and immerse themselves in this atmosphere.

During these nights, meddah performances drew great interest. The solitary meddah on stage, through mimicry and storytelling, amused and provoked thought in the crowd. The tales told by the meddah often carried moral messages, expressed in a language aligned with Ramadan’s spiritual essence. Thus, entertainment and education met on the same ground.

Throughout Ramadan, mukabele recitations were held in mosques. Hafız recited the Qur’an aloud to the congregation, who followed along. This tradition strengthened the connection with the Qur’an and reinforced the sense of communal worship. Especially in large mosques, mukabele circles formed, and people spent their daytime hours participating in them.

At suhoor time, one of the most distinctive sounds of Ottoman streets could be heard: the davul. Ramadan drummers wandered through neighborhoods, chanting maniler to awaken people for suhoor. These maniler were sometimes witty, sometimes instructive, and sometimes tailored to the residents of a particular quarter. The drummer’s voice not only announced the approach of suhoor but also conveyed the very vitality of Ramadan.

During Ramadan, learning and conversation were also elevated. Circles of discussion were formed in mosques, madrasas, and mansions, where religious, moral, and cultural topics were debated. Scholars, poets, and writers participated in these gatherings. Ramadan was, therefore, also a season of culture and knowledge.

A Cultural Heritage Where Social Joy in Squares, Spiritual Peace in Mosques, and the Ancient Sound of Suhoor Converge (Generated by Artificial Intelligence)

During this month, people eagerly sought opportunities to give charity. Charity stones were among the most widely used charitable instruments of the time. Those in need could take money from these stones without being seen, and donors never knew to whom they had given. The secrecy of aid was the foundation of the Ottoman understanding of charity.

As Eid approached, the city buzzed with special activity. On Arife, people visited graves and offered prayers for the departed. Homes were prepared for the holiday, and children received new clothes. Ramadan was experienced as a process of preparation for Eid.

And when Eid morning finally arrived, people donned their finest clothes and went to the mosques. After the Eid prayer, everyone exchanged Eid greetings, kissed the hands of elders, and delighted the children. The atmosphere of sharing and unity cultivated throughout Ramadan reached its peak at Eid.

All these traditions reveal that in the Ottoman Empire, Ramadan was not confined to individual worship; it was a civilizational practice that enveloped the city, society, culture, ethics, and everyday life from beginning to end. Light was inscribed upon the heavens from minarets, the sound of the iftar top echoed across the city, the beat of the davul reverberated through the streets, the scent of pide permeated neighborhoods, and kindness reached hearts without leaving a name.

Ramadan in the Ottoman Empire was not merely a month lived; it was an atmosphere collectively built. This atmosphere was illuminated by mahyas strung between minarets, announced simultaneously throughout the city by the sound of the iftar top, enveloped by the aroma of pide in the streets, and transformed by the sweet rhythm of davul maniler that softened the silence of night. Tables were not confined to homes; they spilled into squares, mansions, and alleyways. Aid was given without names, guests were never turned away, and children were gently introduced to tradition.

Therefore, Ramadan in the Ottoman Empire was not merely the sum of days advancing on the calendar; it was a shared experience in which light, sound, scent, sharing, and grace converged to transform the city from end to end.