Cities After Sunset: How the Holy Month of Ramadan Reimagines Public Life

Ramadan is a time of deep personal reflection, spiritual renewal, and community connection. It’s also a time when cities — especially across the Gulf and many parts of the muslim world — shift their rhythm. Streets feel different. People move differently. Priorities change. For those of us working to design cities for people, Ramadan offers rare and powerful insights into how space, time, and human behavior intersect. 

At Gehl we’ve had the privilege of working in cities where the holy month is deeply woven into everyday life — from reimagining walkability and public life in the sacred city of Madinah to crafting life-first, climate-responsive masterplans in Kuala Lumpur and Jakarta. Our starting point always begins with a deep understanding of place — humbly setting aside what we think we know to immerse ourselves in the local context. Ramadan makes these local layers more visible, revealing how urban life expands, contracts, and adapts to the sacred and the social.

We often speak about designing at eye level, creating cities that reflect the reality of how people live, not just how they move. And during Ramadan, the way people live is different. That difference can teach us plenty. The holy month reminds us that cities work best when they are responsive, generous, and attuned to the people who inhabit them.

We’ve drawn a few reflections from life during Ramadan. Reflections that speak to urban design, empathy, care, and the quiet power of time. 

Seasonal rituals and adaptive public space

Each year during Ramadan, cities across the Muslim world shift, not through grand plans or major developments, but through small, temporary spatial interventions: iftar gatherings spill into courtyards, sidewalks stretch to accommodate prayer mats, and night markets extend the city’s rhythm well past midnight. These moments may be short-lived, but they reveal something lasting — a clear demand for public spaces that are welcoming, social, and flexible. 

This is the power of seasonal rituals. They show us what people need, even when the city isn’t fully designed to support it. At Gehl, we see these informal, time-bound transformations as a living laboratory and evidence of how people reimagine space when cultural rhythms are given space to unfold. From plazas that double as gathering places to shaded walkways that invite lingering after sunset, and lighting that supports safety and presence — there are lasting lessons here for how cities can better respond to cultural and seasonal needs. These interventions aren’t just about religion, they’re about the human need for connection, ritual, and belonging.

By observing how cities stretch during Ramadan, we can design more adaptive urban spaces that don’t just tolerate change, but rather, invite for it.

Sharing meals, sharing space: designing for generosity

Ramadan is marked by the spirit of giving, not only in the form of charity, but in how people share space, time, and presence with one another. Streets become extensions of the home. Mosques host open iftars*. Neighbors exchange meals over fences and balconies. Public space becomes part of the generosity itself. 

This kind of spatial generosity isn’t orchestrated through design manuals or masterplans. It is intuitive, cultural, and deeply human. Yet, it only happens when space allows for it. When there are places to sit, linger, connect, and give without asking for permission. 

At Gehl, we often talk about public space as a ‘common good’. During Ramadan, that idea becomes visible in the most human way, not through architecture, but through behavior. The invitation for designers is to consider: how can urban environments create the conditions for generosity to unfold? Can we design seating that encourages sharing, thresholds that blur private and public life, and streets that welcome gathering without requiring permission?

In a world where public space is too often shaped by efficiency and control, Ramadan offers a different measure of value, one based on care, dignity, and the quiet beauty of people getting together and looking after each other.

What fasting teaches us about pace and presence

Ramadan reshapes time. Fasting slows the body and softens the pace of daily life. People move with more intention. Conversations stretch a little longer. Work, errands, and daily pressures recalibrate around moments of quiet, prayer, and stillness. 

This collective slowing is a stark contrast to the default pace of many cities (especially in the Gulf where urban life is often structured around speed, efficiency, and air-conditioned convenience). Ramadan shows us that slowness is not idleness — it gives meaning to place. 

As urban designers, we often focus on movement. How to get people from A to B. Ramadan reminds us that what happens in between matters just as much. Cities need spaces where people can rest without consuming, sit without rushing, or simply exist with one another. When cities make space for people to slow down, they also make space for deeper connection to oneself, to others, and to life that unfolds around them.

Our team is committed to designing places that reflect the richness of local life. Ramadan reminds us that to do that well, we need to pay attention. Not only to where people go, but when, why, and how they come together. Sometimes the most meaningful shifts happen not in what is built, but in what is noticed.