CHARITY leaders have called for donations during Ramadan to help some of the most vulnerable communities during the coronavirus crisis.
During Ramadan, Muslims are required to give a charitable donation, known as zakat, as part of tradition. Every Muslim who is able to and has a certain amount of wealth pays 2.5 per cent of that to help those in need.
Many charities hold fundraising events and campaigns during the holy month. However, the Covid-19 crisis and lockdown has seen mosques close their doors. Many charitable operations have had to adjust their fundraising campaigns to meet government guidelines.
Yasrab Shah, the fund-raising director for charity Muslim Hands, said the prevailing crisis was an opportunity “to act” and provide support to those in need.
“We are living in unprecedented times and have seen the pandemic bring waves of uncertainty and challenges, which we have had to navigate through,” he told Eastern Eye. “Now is the time to act because only by working together can we make a difference and save lives.”
Tufail Hussain, the UK director for Islamic Relief, revealed that the charity had received more donations in the run-up to Ramadan this year than in 2019.
Praising the Muslim community for their generosity, he said it was “heartening” to see kindness during the pandemic. “(The Muslim community) always come forward and offer support during times of crisis,” he told Eastern Eye. “It has been heartening to see such efforts during the challenges that we have faced and will continue to going forward.”
In Islam, Hussain added, followers were taught to help others when they were in need. He believed these teachings had inspired the community to come forward and give generously.
Both organisations have had to adapt their normal operations in order to continue their fundraising campaigns.
Islamic Relief usually visits mosques across the country to collect money from congregations. According to Hussain, this initiative would typically raise hundreds of thousands of pounds for the charity’s cause.
However, the closure of mosques and the restriction on gatherings of large groups means that collections cannot happen.
“(The crisis) has also led to the cancellation of our community fund-raising events in the run-up to Ramadan, which is our busiest period of fundraising,” Hussain said. “We’ve had to cancel those interactions with the community, which form the key part of our fund-raising strategy.”
Despite this, Hussain praised his “creative team” who have come up with a number of contingencies to overcome the challenge of being unable to interact with community members face to face.
“The work has to continue and we’ve taken every measure to try and ensure that supporters of Islamic Relief are still able to back our work in the run-up to Ramadan and beyond,” he said.
Muslim Hands has also seen changes in its day-to-day operations. The vast majority of staff are required to work from home, for instance, and offices in London have had to close. However, it has set up initiatives to help vulnerable and elderly communities in the UK.
“We have set up services that are desperately needed, such as helplines and food distribution so that those who are struggling are not left to suffer alone in silence,” Shah explained.
The organisation has partnered with FareShare – the UK’s largest food redistribution charity – to help provide 240,000 meals during the coronavirus pandemic over a two-month period.
As well as local projects, the charities are striving to provide support overseas too.
Muslim Hands is working to provide food parcels and medical supplies to help some of the neediest people across 20 countries. Islamic Relief said it prioritises projects that support communities with water, food and healthcare and those facing emergencies such as natural disasters or conflict.
The coronavirus crisis has touched people of all faiths and none across the world, and it is the most vulnerable communities who will bear the brunt of it, Hussain said.
“Ramadan is a time for British Muslims to thank Allah for our good fortune and to reflect on those who are less fortunate than ourselves,” he said. “In this crisis with so many communities coming together to help one another, (donations) will make a difference to the most needy, and is safe with Islamic Relief.”
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
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