y the time, you are reading this piece, Ramazan will be underway. It is not just about fasting from dawn to dusk, it is also about togetherness, generosity and reflection. But it is also a month that reshapes the way money moves in Pakistan. Prices climb, spending spikes and budgeting becomes a challenge for many. The streets are alive with the hustle of vendors selling dates and samosas, markets swell with shoppers hunting for Eid outfits, and the scent of freshly fried pakoras lingers in the air. Beneath the festive glow, a financial strain builds up, pressing hardest on those already struggling to make ends meet.

Every year, as the crescent moon signals the start of Ramazan, there is an immediate shift in consumer habits. People stock up on essential food items, knowing full well that prices will skyrocket. Flour, sugar, meat, fruits and cooking oilbecome pricier as demand surges. It’s almost a tradition at this point: retailers bump up prices and the government steps in with promises of relief that don’t always materialise. Inflation, already a beast in normal times, takes on an even sharper edge. Families with fixed incomes find themselves stretching every rupee, recalculating expenses, deciding what can be cut. And while Ramazan is meant to be a time of simplicity, the cost of just getting through the month makes that simplicity feel like a luxury.

The extra expenses don’t stop at food. Utility bills climb, too. The nights grow longer as people stay up for prayers, cooking and family gatherings. Lights burn late into the night, refrigerators work overtime and stoves run full tilt for elaborate iftar and suhoor meals. The gas bill shoots up. The electricity bill follows suit. With inflation already eating into household budgets, these added costs make survival—not just celebration—a balancing act. And yet, despite it all, people push forward, embracing the spirit of the month even as they navigate its financial challenges.

Then there’s the giving. Charity flows freely in Ramazan, a core part of the month’s spirit. Zakat, sadaqah and community-driven initiatives kick into high gear. Everyone, from wealthy business owners to those just getting by, feels the pull to give. It’s a beautiful thing—mosques organising free iftar meals, volunteers distributing ration bags, donations pouring into charities. But for middle-income families, there’s a balancing act at play. They want to give, they do give, but they also have their own households to sustain. Inflation chips away at generosity, forcing people to think twice about how much they can afford to donate. Still, the drive to help doesn’t fade. Even when money is tight, kindness remains abundant.

Ramazan isn’t just a test of faith; it’s a peak season for businesses. Retailers know that Eid shopping is non-negotiable. Families may cut corners elsewhere, but new clothes, shoes and gifts are a part of the tradition. Markets buzz with activity, malls overflow and online stores see a surge in orders. But as with everything else, prices creep higher. Traders know demand is strong, and they price accordingly. What was affordable a few months ago suddenly feels like a splurge. Yet, people find a way, adjusting their budgets, shifting priorities, making room for the joys that come with Eid.

The extra expenses don’t stop at food. Utility bills climb, too. The nights grow longer as people stay up for prayers, cooking and family gatherings. Lights burn late into the night, refrigerators work overtime and stoves run full tilt for elaborate iftar and suhoor meals.

Food businesses thrive during Ramazan. Restaurants roll out special iftar deals, bakeries see long queues for fresh jalebis and food delivery services boom. Even small roadside stalls make a killing selling fruit chaat and dahibaray. But behind the scenes, restaurant owners face their own struggles. The rising cost of ingredients forces them to bump up prices and that increase gets passed on to customers. Eating out, once a simple pleasure, becomes a financial decision. Is it worth it? Should the money be spent elsewhere? Many opt to stay home, cooking meals that bring both comfort and savings.

For families trying to keep expenses in check, planning is everything. Those who prepare in advance—stocking up before the price hikes, setting a budget, resisting impulse buys—manage better. Bulk buying can help, but only if done wisely. Overspending on perishable goods leads to waste, defeating the purpose of saving in the first place. The festive atmosphere tempts people to loosen their wallets, but discipline makes all the difference. Those who approach Ramazan with a financial strategy often find themselves in a better position by the time Eid rolls around.

Price comparison becomes another tool in the budgeting arsenal. Wholesale markets offer better deals, government-subsidised stores provide relief and early Eid shopping can prevent last-minute splurging at peak prices. The key is staying ahead of the game, anticipating the seasonal trends and making purchases accordingly. It’s a balancing act—between needs and wants, between generosity and caution, between tradition and financial reality.

Despite all these challenges, Ramazan remains a time of warmth, of faith, of community. Prices rise but so does generosity. Budgets stretch, but so do hearts. People find ways to come together to support one another to uphold the spirit of the month even when times are tough. There’s an unspoken understanding that, beyond the money, beyond the stress, Ramazan is about something deeper. It’s about resilience. It’s about gratitude. It’s about giving not just from the wallet, but from the soul.

The economic patterns of Ramazan paint a complex picture—one of booming business and tightening budgets, of rising costs and rising generosity. The government steps in with price controls, but enforcement is weak and hoarders play their game. The need for better market regulation is obvious. Subsidies, price monitoring, anti-hoarding measures—these aren’t just economic policies, they’re necessities to ensure that Ramazan remains a month of worship rather than worry.

For the common citizen, though, it’s not about policies and regulations—it’s about survival. It’s about making the most of what’s available, spending wisely, planning carefully and finding joy in simplicity. The struggle is real, but so is the determination to make the most of the holy month. In the end, that’s what Ramazan is about—not just enduring the fast, but embracing the journey, financial struggles and all.

The writer is a chartered accountant and a business analyst