How to Quit Smoking During Ramadan

I never intended to become a smoker—not in any real sense. It began like it always does: a cigarette here, another there, something to occupy idle hands, a punctuation mark between conversations. But before I knew it, smoking had ceased to be an occasional habit and had become intrinsic to my identity. A proper smoker, through and through.

I knew I should quit smoking. Everyone does. I assured myself I'd stop before thirty. Then thirty-five. Then—soon. But each attempt was a masterclass in failure. Nicotine gum? A synthetic, rubbery mess. Patches? Utterly ineffective. Prescription medications? They blurred reality into a surreal dreamscape, poetic in theory but, in practice, a disorienting detachment from life.

Yet, the addiction itself wasn't the worst part. It was a shame. Society had moved on—smokers had become outcasts, relics of a bygone era when cigarettes carried an air of sophistication instead of sheer grime. I loathed the way people recoiled from the lingering scent on my clothes, the way I had to slip away from social settings to stand in some desolate corner, alone with my self-destructive indulgence. But I hated the idea of quitting even more. And, most of all, I hated what it was doing to my family.

My wife had stopped making comments years ago, but I saw the worry in her eyes every time I stepped outside for "just one more." My children—clever in ways I wished they weren’t—had learned to hug me before I went outside, not after. "You stink, Dad," my youngest had once said, scrunching his nose. I laughed it off, but it stuck with me. I didn't want to be the dad who smelled like an ashtray. I didn't want to be the dad who couldn't keep up in the park, who coughed himself awake at night.

Then Ramadan arrived. Again. I had fasted through many Ramadans as a smoker, and every year, I swore this would be the one where I quit smoking for good. And every year, the maghrib adhan signalled not just the end of my fast but an unshakable compulsion—I would reach for a cigarette before food or water. Hunger and thirst were secondary; the craving ruled supreme. I convinced myself that fasting all day without a cigarette proved I could quit, but as soon as Eid arrived, the cycle resumed.

But this time was different. This time, something broke inside me. The withdrawals weren’t just unpleasant; they were unbearable. By midday, I wasn’t simply irritable—I was unravelling. My patience, my focus, my composure—gone. Fasting no longer felt like a spiritual act; it felt like I was just enduring the hours until I could poison myself again. That was the moment I knew something had to change.

Enter vaping!

I didn’t trust it. Too sleek, too synthetic, too…modern. Cigarettes carried a history; vapes had charging ports. The idea of swapping one vice for another felt disingenuous. But I was out of alternatives. So, with a mix of scepticism and desperation, I bought a disposable vape and took my first reluctant puff.

And then—I exhaled. Relief. Instant, undeniable. It was identical to smoking, curbing my nicotine cravings instantly while being less harmful. For the first time, I entertained a thought I had never truly believed before: maybe this could work.

At first, I relied on disposables—convenient and effortless. I opted for the strongest option—20mg/ml nicotine salts—because I needed that same hard hit. Nic salts absorbed quickly delivered a smooth impact and spared my throat the harshness of freebase nicotine. But soon, I found myself restless. Disposables were fine, but they felt like the training wheels of vaping.

Curiosity took over. What was coil resistance? What was an ohm? Why did every vape forum read like an engineering manual? I dove in headfirst. Pods, mods, tanks, coils, I experimented with them all. My first real vape was a starter kit—simple yet effective. I chose the Innokin Endura T22 and later the Endura T18e, both lauded for their reliability. Then, when I got a bit bolder, I upgraded to the Voopoo Drag S, a pod-mod hybrid that granted me greater control. I tweaked coil resistances, adjusted wattages, and fine-tuned my experience. Looking back, I can see why some vapes are better suited for heavier smokers - the right balance of throat hit, nicotine delivery, and control makes all the difference.

And the flavours—an entire world of them. It was like stepping into an old confectionery, except this time, the indulgence didn’t come with a slow death sentence. I explored everything—classic tobaccos, decadent custards, absurdly saccharine blue raspberry blends. I overdid it, of course. Mindless puffs in moments where I never would have reached for a cigarette. But somewhere in all of that, I stopped missing smoking.

Then, one day—perhaps weeks later—I realised something extraordinary: I hadn’t touched a cigarette. Hadn’t even desired one. The rituals had shifted, the cravings had faded, and against all odds, I was free.

Vaping wasn’t the same as smoking. The ritual of flicking a lighter, the curl of smoke—it was different. But it worked. No more shivering in the cold, no more stale breath, no more crumpled packs hidden in jacket pockets like guilty secrets.

Look, I’m not here to preach. Vaping isn’t a panacea. It isn’t health incarnate, and I won’t pretend it’s without flaws. But it did something nothing else could—it worked. And that, I believe, is worth talking about.

I still think about smoking sometimes. I probably always will. Maybe there’s an old pack somewhere, forgotten in the depths of a drawer. But I don’t reach for it. And I don’t think I ever will.

Quitting doesn’t have to be an exercise in suffering. Sometimes, it just means finding the right alternative. And for me, that was vaping.

If you're fasting, no. Smoking breaks the fast. There’s no debate, no technical loophole. If you light up, you’re done for the day.

Yes. The rule is simple: if something enters the body in a way that provides nourishment or stimulation, it invalidates the fast. And nicotine? That’s pure stimulation.

No, smoking while fasting breaks the fast. Just like eating or drinking, inhaling cigarette smoke is considered a form of consumption which goes against the rules of fasting. Whether it’s a single puff or an entire cigarette, the fast is no longer valid and would need to be made up later.

Ramadan is basically the ultimate nicotine detox. Since you’re already going without for hours, why not push through and quit for good? The cravings will hit hard, but they always do. At least now, there’s a reason to resist.

Treat the fast as a reset button. Use it to break the cycle, to rewire habits that feel unshakable. Swap the post-iftar cigarette for something else—tea, a walk, a deep breath that isn’t laced with smoke. Vaping helps; nicotine patches work for some, but above all, find what steadies you and hold onto it.

If you’re not fasting, sure. But if you are, then no - smoking is as off-limits as food or water. The fast isn’t just about avoiding meals; it’s about discipline, control, and cleansing both body and mind. Lighting up breaks more than just the fast—it breaks the very purpose of Ramadan.

Can you vape during Ramadan?

If you’re fasting, vaping is out. It delivers nicotine, which stimulates the body and breaks the fast. But outside fasting hours? That’s between you and your own convictions. But you should opt for alternatives to smoking to get rid of this habit.