A three-month festival of lights and a time for giving thanks

Letter from Dubai: As the sun sets, the call to prayer sings out over the city and bounces back and forth between green, gold and pink tower blocks.

The sharp report of a cannon tells Muslims they may break their fast. Tens of millions of fairy lights flicker on. Cascades of coloured lights flow down the sides of buildings, strings of white lights wrapped round palm trees come on, houses are outlined in lights.

This year Diwali, the Indian festival of lights, blends into Ramadan and Ramadan, which ends tomorrow, slides seamlessly into Christmas. Dubai is a three-month festival of lights.

In the salon of the Hannouns' handsome villa in the prosperous seaside district of Jumaira, iftar - breakfast - begins with apricot nectar and dates.

Roula, our hostess, asks us to take our places at the gleaming walnut table decorated with a forest of pink roses in slender crystal vases and set with silver and bone china. A thin soup of green lentils is served followed by an aray of salads and small dishes of chickpea and aubergine paste to be eaten with bread.

Then we choose from among the Ramadan specialities of the house: plates of rice, meat, raisins, nuts and spices; chicken cooked with onions, garlic and sour tamarind, and vegetable stews.

For the first round of Turkish coffee, we move into the garden where a salty wind is blowing inland from the Arabian sea. Back in the dining room we sample pancakes stuffed with sweet cheese and pastries filled with nuts and dates, mangoes and pineapple, before being served tiny glasses of sweet Indian tea.

Food budgets and waistlines expand during this month of fasting and feasting.

During Ramadan, Muslims abstain from all food and drink from dawn to dusk when the faithful pray and reflect on their lives.

Restaurants are closed during the day. Traditional Arabic coffee is not offered to visitors. No one eats or drinks in public. Non-Muslims have meals at home. Ramadan is a season of tolerance. Life slows.

Government offices open for six rather than eight hours. Businesses and banks cut the working day. Streets are deserted during afternoon while nocturnal revelers sleep.

Dubai comes to life after iftar. Ramadan is a time of visiting family and friends, of parties and banquets. Colourful tents are pitched in private gardens and open spaces where people gather to play cards and backgammon, drink coffee, snack and talk.

Many stay awake until the last meal of the night, zuhur, then slip into bed for a few hours of sleep. Ramadan is a month of dozy days and celebratory nights.

Shops stay open till 10 p.m. or even midnight. Ramadan is a time of shopping. It is traditional to make gifts of clothing for Id al-Fitr, the feast which ends the holy month.

The souqs, bright with coloured lights, are filled with people drifting from shop to shop, looking, trying on new shirts, dresses and trousers.

In the Karama market, plastic Christmas trees are decked out with lights and phoney snow, strings of glittering tinsel hang along the walkway.

As we sip chilled coconut water from topped nuts, my friend Sudha remarks: "Imagine Christmas trees on sale in an Indian neighbourhood in Ramadan. That is the essence of Dubai."

It is a cosmopolitan place, ready to celebrate all the holidays of all peoples.

Ramadan is also a time to give to the less fortunate. At a splendid zuhur, the last meal of the night, arranged by the Pakistani community at a seafront club in Jumaira, some $20,000 was raised for five charities back home.

Elsewhere in the emirate, well-meaning people meet, feast together and share their good fortune by giving to worthy causes.

In Fujaira, another of the the United Arab Emirates (UAE), many households stage iftar in their front gardens and invite casual passers-by or poor people to share the meal. The Bedouin tradition of hospitality remains strong.

Ramadan is a time to think of the less fortunate - and to do something about it. The daily pinch of the fast encourages people to give generously.

In the UAE, Ramadan is a time of thanksgiving. The sheikhdoms have not, fortunately, been shaken by the turmoil afflicting other countries in the region, but the tribulations and traumas suffered by Iraqis and Palestinians are not ignored.

Every year Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan al-Nayhan, the president of the federation, gives money for iftar in the Israeli- occupied Palestinian territories. This year he also fed hundreds of Iraqis suffering from joblessness and privation since the US occupied their country in April.

Everyone here lives in the shadow of the crises in Iraq and the Palestinian territories. Ramadan is a time to consider dark political events and hope that peace will be found before next year's Ramadan.