Ramadan in Pakistan has always been about sacred traditions—grand iftar feasts, late-night drives, chai dhabas overflowing with post-taraweeh debates, and of course, the classic sehri struggle: should I eat another paratha or regret my life choices?
But this year, a new tradition has emerged, one that is as farz for the elite as fasting itself—padel.
That’s right. The gym-fit, protein-shake-sipping, athleisure-wearing class has found a new way to spend their roza-induced energy. Instead of sleeping, praying, or self-reflecting, they’re out on floodlit courts, smashing balls against glass walls and yelling things like “Bro, lob it, lob it!” at 3 AM.
What even is Padel?
Padel is what happens when tennis and squash have a baby, but that baby is raised in DHA, listens to house music, and wears Lululemon. The rules are simple: it’s played in a glass-walled court, you use a short racket (because, obviously, regular tennis is too mainstream), and the ball can bounce off the walls. It’s like tennis, but easier—because the walls do half the work.
And that’s why it has become the sport for Pakistan’s rich kids. Let’s be honest—running is hard, cardio is overrated, and real sports require actual effort. But in padel, you just have to swing your arm dramatically, yell “Nice shot, bro!”, and boom—you look like a pro.
Padel: the new roza activity
In Ramadan, life for the elite now follows a very specific pattern:
1.Iftar: Start with dates, eat grilled chicken (because healthy lifestyle), avoid biryani (because abs), but still somehow end up eating half a Nutella naan.
2.Post-Iftar Chill: Some people do tasbeeh, others hit the court. Guess which group plays padel?
3.Padel Time: Two hours of running just enough to feel athletic, but not enough to break a real sweat.
4.Post-Padel Analysis: 30-minute discussion on who was playing like Federer and who was playing like a paindu uncle who just discovered the sport.
5.Sehri Plans: A group debate between having an avocado smoothie or going full desi with nihari and anda paratha.
6.Repeat Every Night.
Who actually plays Padel?
The whole of Pakistan is talking about padel, but does everyone play? The short answer: no.
This sport is strictly reserved for the rich burgers of DHA, Defence, and elite gym clubs. If you live in Gulshan, Johar, or any place where rent is below haath se likhi hui cheques levels, chances are you don’t even know where the nearest padel court is.
One thing is certain: rich burgers will always find the next cool trend to flex. If not padel, then something else—maybe “Ramadan Ice Bath Challenges” or “Taraweeh Yoga” (don’t be surprised if that actually happens)
Middle-class people? Well, they still play tennis. Because, unlike padel, tennis courts don’t require a Rs. 10,000 membership fee, Rs 3,000 per hour booking, and a wardrobe that looks like you just walked out of a Lays commercial.
Padel: the new religious obligation?
Right now, just like roza, namaz, ibadat, and avoiding lies, playing padel is becoming something akin to a farz too. Society has made it mandatory. If you don’t play, what are you even doing with your life?
Imagine this conversation at a Ramadan gathering:
Uncle: Beta, how many rozas have you kept?
Rich Burger: Uncle, Alhamdulillah, all rozas. Also, my padel game is improving. 3 backhand smashes today, MashAllah.
Uncle: …Bohot barakat wala bacha hai.
If your squad isn’t playing padel after iftar, are you even in a squad?
Will Padel survive past Ramadan?
The million-rupee question: Is padel here to stay, or is this just a Ramadan fling?
See, during Ramadan, playing at 3 AM feels spiritual. But after Eid, when there’s no post-iftar adrenaline and the heat reaches tandoor levels, will people still show up? Or will these fancy courts end up like the abandoned cycling tracks from the Corona fitness era?
One thing is certain: rich burgers will always find the next cool trend to flex. If not padel, then something else—maybe “Ramadan Ice Bath Challenges” or “Taraweeh Yoga” (don’t be surprised if that actually happens).
But for now, if you’re not playing padel, don’t worry. Just grab a racket, book a court, and remember—the walls are your best friend, but your real enemy is the guy who takes the game way too seriously.