c. 2003 Beliefnet

(Asma Gull Hasan is the author of “American Muslims: The New Generation.” Her new book, “Why I Am A Muslim,” will be published in March by Element, a HarperCollins imprint. Her Web site is: http://www.asmahasan.com).

(UNDATED) As I begin my annual Ramadan fast, I won’t be celebrating the way my mother did in Pakistan, or even the way I did as a child in Colorado.

My mom’s Ramadan dining table was filled with South Asian delicacies. She and her brothers, sister, and parents would gather just before sunset for the iftar meal. Freshly fried onion fritters with mint chutney; spicy lamb chops with tamarind and plum chutney; soft, hot, doughy naans as well as fried tortilla-type bread called parathas; chicken tikka with another kind of bread called happatis; pudding made of carrots grown on my grandfather’s farm and other sweet dishes called alwa.

My mother and her siblings would sit before this grand table, eyeing the items that my grandmother had spent the whole day preparing and whose scent had filled their home.

For me, this same rite includes warming leftover pasta in my microwave. If I’m feeling spunky, I might order Indian food for delivery. My dinner companion is Alex Trebek, hosting “Jeopardy.” I pray by myself and then decide whether or not to go to the gym. The only scent filling my apartment is from my neighbor’s evening cigar.

If I were married, as I should have been 10 years ago under Pakistani cultural standards, I would not be fasting alone. And this Ramadan, like me, many Gen X Muslim women will also be fasting alone. According to statistics compiled by the Islamic Society of North America, American Muslim women in their 20s and 30s outnumber Muslim men in the same age group two to one.

Ramadan is family time. My mother and her family, for instance, after eating the feast at iftar would pray together and then have another meal _ dinner _ together, where they would discuss the day’s events and plan the next day’s fast.

Traditionally, the last 10 days of Ramadan are filled with frenzy in preparation for the Eid holiday that comes at the end of the month. The wedding season begins soon thereafter, packing schedules with nightly wedding events. Eligible women are at the dressmaker’s store daily, begging the head tailor to complete the new, fancy outfits they commissioned before Ramadan. They want to look their best at the weddings _ the site of much matchmaking in Pakistan.

For Muslim women in America, however, finding a mate is not so simple.

Many female readers of my first book have recently begun asking: where do I meet eligible men who are my age, who will support my career and help me raise a family, and who are also Muslim?

This query was probably the most frequent one I heard when I attended the Islamic Society of North America convention. The fact that these women were asking at ISNA shows how dire the situation has become. Because there is no matchmaking wedding season in America, ISNA fills the void.

How? To put it bluntly, the annual convention is known as a “meat market,” where second-generation Muslims flock from all over the country to check each other out.

Every year, ISNA hosts a “matrimonial” event, which is usually ignored by Muslim singles. But this year, ISNA kept pace with current culture _ holding a “speed dating” function instead of the usual reception.

I was stunned! If you know anything about ISNA, you know how odd a “dating” event is. But perhaps ISNA is finally taking notice of the marriage crisis gripping many young American Muslims.

Sadly, speed dating is probably not the answer.

I appreciate ISNA trying to address the marriage problem in a creative way. It’s too bad, though, that the effort was not fruitful.

One of the purposes behind Ramadan is to learn what suffering feels like, to experience what those who are hungry do every day. Waking up alone in the early morning hours, by myself, in the dark, to eat a pre-dawn breakfast is not easy.

When I fast at my parents’ home, I usually have a family member to cajole or entertain me. Or my mother will simply stay up all night to make sure I wake up in time and then make her own version of her mother’s feast.

But to fast alone _ to fast single _ makes the process more alienating than it already is. Eating eggs and burnt toast at 4 a.m., watching a Saudi maulvi recite the Quran on cable, is a far cry from the eventful Ramadan gatherings my mother told me about when I was little.

Ramadan single is perhaps, in a way, reaching a truer meaning of Ramadan. Although families observe Ramadan as a unit, Ramadan is actually not meant to be fun. Ramadan alone is more suffering than Ramadan together. It can make you more sympathetic to the plight of those who are hungry, helpless, and alone. For those who fast the full 30 days with sincerity, great rewards are promised. Hopefully, for my female readers, a mate will be one of them.

DEA END HASAN