When I was very young, learning how to fast in the month of Ramadan, given all the lessons on how to be a good human being and go to Heaven, taught how to calculate and compute the good deeds I do, including walking a mile to the village masjid counting the steps I take, eliminating evil thoughts, praising my parents, my villagers and God in every breathe doing and all those a good ol’ Johorean religious education accorded me, I was always told that in the holy month, the Iblis/Mr Shaitan/Monsieur Diablo/The Fallen Angel/The Jebat-Malaikat reincarnate or whatever one calls as the Evil Guy who challenged The God to a game of finding followers (like the US presidential campaign for votes) - I was told that he would be imprisoned.

Ramadan - month of Imprisonment. I walked and talked - I’d count my steps and said my mantra “O’ God O’ God’ at every breathe, in hope that the Devil with Bling-Bling of the Seventies would not jump into my inner space.

Only on the first day of Hari Raya, the end of the fasting month and the day of the Great Victory, Mr Satan, probably wearing baju Melayu Telok Blangah Johor with a Gangsta Punk Rocker-Death Metal-Satanic Grunge Rock-Donald Trump-tattoo-inspired embalmed on his forehead would be released and allowed to have his ball of a-golfing and pole-dancing Prime-Ministerial Colombian Cartel-ish Hellish private-jet-setting time possessing me and my friends and those who are Muslims.