Would You Like To Be Freaked Out?

1. Read this.

2. Watch this.

Video courtesy Nuzha E.

Mama O Mama!

The Raya/Eid Edition

. Yesterday Mama was upto her usual balcony shenanigans. She saw some Malay woman so she goes, 'Haslinda!' then 'Zulfekly'. Then she saw a Malay guy. She went 'Shahruuuuul!'

. For buka puasa (to open our fast) Papa brought home 'tez aloo' (spicy/ed potatoes) from a nearby Pakistani restuarant. It was heavily coloured, yknow that fake tandoori chicken colour? Yeah, much like that. So I was like 'Wow, whats this?' Mama goes, 'Tez aloo'. I say, 'O'. She goes, 'It should have been tez raang aloo' (heavily coloured potatoes).

. A few minutes ago Mama made tea after buka puasa for herself (and me). Papa had just returned from the Arab store with some 'halawa' of an unidentified sort. Little packages wrapped in plastic, bitesize. Mama goes, 'I wonder what this is and what it tastes like' so I'm like okay, then you eat it. She proceeds to unwrap it and just as she's about to bite in, I deliberately annoy her by asking her 'what flavour is it?' 'is it nice?' 'why arent you saying anything' in rapid succession. Then as she bites into the thing, she almost chews off the wrapper. And I go, 'Mama, you're not meant to eat the wrapper. Please dont eat that'. She responds, 'ab toh mein wrapper bhi khaongi. Akhir mein Abeer ki maa ho naa' (now that you mention it, I'll definitely eat the wrapper. After all, its characteristic of being Abeer's mother). Honestly my mum makes me sound like the kid who ate glue.

. So this little thing I bought today ended up breaking (its fixed now yay!) and I got all worked up about it and sad. So I go into the hall and cry out in exasperation, 'Its broken! Now what do I do?!' Papa replies, 'Where did you get it from?' and I dont respond to that and go, 'meine kitne armaan se le ke aayi thi yeh' (i bought this with so much hope!), to which Papa goes, 'Arman se kyun le ke aayi? Dukaan se le ke aana tha' (why did you buy it from Arman? you should have bought it from a shop). Arman, as you may/not know happens to be the word hope as well as a common Muslim name. Hence the joke.

. I recently remembered something that happened in about o7/o6. I remember this only because it happened in Bombay and it happened in a way that I cant forget the Bombay element. Mama has this habit of taking on dares if you were to give them to her, and I think this stemmed from her threatening that if I dont get up early in the mornings, she'd throw water on my face (which incidentally she has done previously). So I was like Yeah I dare you, and she goes, 'You dare me Abeer? You dare me?' and because I know she never acts on it (well not usually if it involves doing something highly embarrassing in public) I was like yeah I dare you. Okay fine whatever. Days go by and the entire thing (I assume) is forgotten. One fine day, I leave home to go out with my friends or whatever, go down the stairs- all good. I think I momentarily stopped for a minute to check something or do something, God knows what!, but within a second, there's a bucket of water that's been doused over my head. I look up in anger only to see my dear Razia of a mother poking her thumb out at me. Utterly clueless as to why there's all this water on me (thankfully she missed also a little), I am so flabbergasted I cant even come up with a response. On top of that, the neighbourhood's Uncle, Aunty and some random kids are also there, so I cant even swear. Being me, I just walked on out of the gate. I tried to take my revenge by getting a load of water ready when she went down alone next, but it didnt work. Cunning old lady knew how to duck and avoided getting wet entirely, going a fair distance and showing me that damned 'na na you didnt get me' thumb sign.

. Our help is honestly the bestest. I have mention of her before, and do so again, this time with regard to her children. She's awesome and always laughing and smiling and all of that. She's also from Indonesia. As she was going on leave today for Eid holidays, all the Yusufs said bye to her and wished her Happy Holidays. So Mama goes, 'Wish Eka, Raka and Linda for us!', which she was very happy to hear. Now those names- dont you think they belong in a song? I most certainly do, and I know which one too!

Dear You

We'll do that silly little thing of taking family pictures and sending them out as greeting cards to all those we know.

Yes snail mail.

Yes Seasons Greetings.

Yes we will.

A.

This Eid

I hope everyone who sets out from their homes to go wherever they want to go, reach their destinations. I live next to a hospital. Every time I hear the ambulance siren, I pray that it isnt what my mind immediately starts imagining it to be.

I hope everyone takes out a minute or two to appreciate what this time means beyond the food, merriment and fun company.

I hope everyone stays safe happy and content.

Eid Mubarak everyone. I hope you have a brilliant one.

Scroll below to see a reassuring infographic on road safety.

Boo! Reassuring? So passé.

Abeerism!

I woke up today morning with a strange thought. This is it.

When I grow up, I will open a hotline delivery service. I will serve only vegetarian food, and of a certain type only.

The name of my delivery service (and its tagline) is going to be

Dial-a-Dhal

Looking for Lentils?

On a separate note, dyou think Roald Dahl liked lentils?

Abeerism.

Get your desi on with these amazing lines courtesy Miss Yusuf.

'Lets get down and desi'.

'I'll show you my gulab jamuns if you'll let me have your shahi tukda'.

Mama O Mama!

. Remember how I wrote in a previous post about Mama going out to the balcony and randomly shouting out 'Abu Zar'? She did the same thing again yesterday night, but much worse. Much Much Worse. So she's standing out in the balcony and I go join her, just to yknow, talk to her and whatnot and she sees these people below talking to each other. There's a little apartment-like building right below our condominium and these people are conversing with each other- a few on the road talking to whoever in the balcony of that apartment. And Mama starts shouting again, 'Abu Zaaaaar' 'Why dont you listen to me ever!' And Im like 'Mama stop it! they can hear you!' They dont, of course, because she isnt loud enough, thankfully, and then they leave. She keeps going on though, calling out to Abu Zar. 

Right then I see an actual kid peeping out our building. Not towards us, just randomly looking out somewhere and  im like, "Mama, you can actually call him that. I'm sure he'll listen." And to my utter surprise Mama says, "Quick, give me a Hindu name"(not because of any prejudice or anything, but because we know the kid's Hindu). Obviously I falter and struggle so she starts going "Ajay! Vijay! Sony! Mony! Karan! Arjun!' And loudly too, mind you. He doesnt hear her and leaves. 

Then we see a lady coming towards the building. Mama looks at her and starts shouting, 'Sangita! Anita! Sita! Gita!' Then goes, 'Quick! Give me a Tamil name!' (not because of any prejudice, but because alot of South Indian nurses live in our building). As is typical of me, I cant give her a name so she goes, 'Vijii! Vanita! Shantiiii!' They dont hear her either. 

Then Mama sees a Malay girl coming towards the building wearing a tudung, so she goes, 'Nur Ateqaaaa! Hazlinaa! Hazlina! Azlina! Sharifaaaaah! Why is no one listening to meeee!' 

By the time she's done screaming her glory guts out, I'm left in a pool of tears because its all so funny and she's calling out random generic names to people that cant even hear her.

. While we're out there, Mama doesn't realise that Papa's come back home. So one last time, she sees an Indian man, wearing a lungi (sarong) and goes 'Mamujaaaaaaaaaaaan' (Mother's brotheeeeeeer!). And between tears and an exploding sideache, I ask her why she's calling him that. She replies, 'Because he's a mamak (name given to Muslim Indian people) and looks like an uncle. So I must respect him.' So she carries on, but doesnt realise that Papa has already heard her. He comes into the hall and calls us out and tells Mama off for screaming into the night. Then when he leaves, she looks at me and goes (word for word), "Papa noh? Not sporting at all". 

. A while later after we're both done with our random stuff and prayers we both end up at the balcony. She has a kachori in her hand, a savoury Indian snack, and she starts trying to force feed it to me. After resisting for a while I give in, but not before Mama goes, "Lala lala lori, dud ki kachoriiii" (milk kachori). I spit out remnants of kachori upon hearing this. Those uninitiated wont recognise this, but the above line is actually from a lori (lullaby) which goes, 'Lala lala lori, dud ki katori (bowl of milk).

. Prior to all these shenanigans, we were in the kitchen where Mama was making chai. She added shakar (sugar) to both our mugs and upon stirring and tasting it, went ''O there isnt enough shakar in this." I replied, "Yknow, mujhe laga tha ke shakar enough nahi hai" (Yknow, I felt that there wasnt enough sugar). She retorts, "Kahan laga tha?" (Where did you feel it?).

. On her insistence, this last incident has to be mentioned. While clearing up the chai pot and stuff, she noticed that she'd dropped a little. I was sitting quite away from her and the pot and stuff, and I'd just concluded laughing about something inane. She goes, 'See what you did? You laughed so much that you blew my chai away and now it's made a mess'. Yeah, I didnt find it funny either, but she insisted. And Mama gets what she wants.

Dear Bruno Mars

I agree. Getting married is the "dumb" thing to do. But only if its to you. And take it from someone who actually HAS a college degree, you dont get one simply by "messing" around. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and educate other dim-witted lyricists of your kind.

A.

Dear Ron

I'll be the Luna to your Neville if you'll be the Snape to my Lily.

A.

Mama O Mama!

. So yesterday I was sitting in the hall, working on something at the desktop computer. All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, I start hearing Mama shout 'Abu Zar!' 'Abu Zaaaaaar!' 'Abu Zaaaar!' And I freak out, obviously. So I go over to her in the balcony where she's still generously screaming out Abu Zar to the air and ask her why she's doing such a retarded thing. She stops to explain, "there's this kid who keeps screaming something inaudible and it sounds like he's saying Daddy or Abba or something and his voice sounds just like Abu Zars' (Abu Zar is the name of my little boy cousin, Mama's brother's son). So I'm just answering his call". And then she carries on, just like that, as though she's not doing anything out of the ordinary- adding to her call, "Abu Zar, haaan! Mein yahan hoon! (Abu Zar, yes! I'm right here!)". And I'm just like duuuuuuuude, that's really mental, even by my standards.

. I return back to my desktop and type out 'My mum is nuts' onto my Twitter status thingamajig. Rizwan replies, 'Now you know where you got it from'. For the life of me, I have nothing to say but to acknowledge the bare naked truth dripping from that diss. Honestly it was the best thing I'd heard that day.

. There's this new thing on Facebook where it shows you a 'This Year in History' kinda thing, except it does that with your status updates from the same date last or last year. It showed me mine from last last year (2oo9) and this is what I'd said- "Abeer Yusuf has parents that have the most AMAZING arguments!" Below that, I presume there was a conversation and to it I had added that Papa Yusuf had just returned from the cinema, having watched Kaminey and as usual the two Yusufs were bickering about something, and Papa was presumably taunting Mama, trying to imply that she wanted to insult him but couldnt out of respect, so he goes, "Razia kehti hai ke Kaminey dekh ke kaminey ho gaye".

. DONTCHA WISH YOUR PARENTS WERE FREAKS LIKE MINE? DONTCHA?

Dear HIMYM Viewer,

We get it. When you get sad, you stop being sad and start being awesome instead.

Yes, true story.

Can you get over it already?

Jeez, talk about television history's most over-used line. 

A.

PS. Josh R and Jason Segel, you remain my two true loves.

Look What I Found!

True love.

Nu's on the left, Su's on the right.

I mohabbat you guys so much

-you have no idea.

(our first iftar in like, ever, 2o11, nu's place, 11th august)

Mama O Mama!

I know its been eons since I've posted one of these, but Mama isnt what she used to be. Yknow, what with old age and whatnot. Hee hee. I kid.

So I was talking about something with Mama, and she said something which I totally didnt understand and I just replied,

"Aap ne kya bola totally mere saar ke upar se hoke gaya"

which means 'what you said just whooshed right over my head'.

To which she replied,

"You know why that happens? Because the information cant detect a brain or ears. So it has no choice but to go over your head".

I recently discovered that you can type out your family relatives names' on Facebook even if they're not on FB. I added my mums'. 

AWWYEAH.

Good Morning World.

Just listen to this.

Isnt it amazing? 

This man is my newfound love. His YT channel can be accessed here.

I came across him while I was YT-ing one of my most favourite soundtrack pieces from the Harry Potter 7.2 score- Statues. 

Its amazing how he and I have similar tastes in music too. Okay obviously the dude knows his music and whatnot, but maaaaan, I feel so smart now. He loves Yann Tiersen too! 

Anyway, getting back to the original point, he plays really well. 

And yknow how you sometimes listen to music and that one piece and in one moment you feel both happy and beautiful? and feel completely weightless? this is the piece capable of doing that.
Okay, I dont know how it works for other people, but I felt beautiful after listening to it.

I know how I keep saying jazz about 'dont care how the guy looks its his personality that matters', but honestly if I were to ever meet a pianist. That's it. Everything else would be secondary. Haw haw. While I keep festering lofty dreams, have a great day.

What Happened In Saigon

I went hungry for a number of days (and returned with a newfound appreciation for countries where halal food isnt an issue).
I became a multi-millionaire and had more plastic currency then I knew what to do with.

I rode pillion on a bike in busy central districts of HCMC.

I almost got into a bike accident because of that.

It rained on us while we were trying to get to our destination on the bike.

We also got lost.

On a separate occasion, I got completely rained on, possessions et al. while walking towards our hotel.

I helped in oar-ing a boat on the Mekong Delta (its another matter that I totally misdirected it).

Manned a stall at the Ben Thanh night market while both shop owners went away momentarily.

Had the pleasure of sitting in the most entertaining lecture by anyone ('gorilla!').

I drank coffee. Lots of it. I think I consumed like 3 mugs' worth within 10 days.

I saw the world's most gorgeous guy at the Chu Chi tunnels.

I crawled in a tunnel that was like a minute long. 

I sang Kuch Kuch Hota Hai in a bus.

I had the best dance of my life, followed by the most amazing hugs and kisses from some of the most wonderful people in HCMC.

I saw an old lady right in front of our hotel, who I smiled at baring all my gums. She saw me, smiled back, beckoned me to sit with her while I drank my coffee (on one of those iconic small chairs and tables). She didnt speak a word of English and me, Vietnamese. But we talked. I asked her if she'd eaten, she said no. I even dropped a bit of coffee on her (on her socks no less!) but she didnt mind. I literally, hung out with her.

I was offered endless cheese and wine (+lychees) by our hotel's Uncle, who had a thing for brownies.

I took part in the most cheesy, majestically unco-ordinated and terrific bhangra dances of my life.

I saw a most gut-wrenching situation of a mother who wished her son was dead before her, because she loves him so much.

I saw a 32-year old with the mind of a 4 year old who smokes, drinks and wears a bag and walks around, thinking he's going to school.

I saw a mother, abandoned by her adopted child, left to rot and die in a tiny space, and who today has no financial support.

I visited a war museum, and saw what I'd forgotten- what war really means.

I saw a man who was a US Army war veteran who'd come back to Vietnam for the first time after last been here while he was a solider, in the Vietnam War (the moment I get my hands on his video, I'll upload it!).

I saw a man vomit quite close to me (eww).

I sang songs at the top of my lungs.

I lost my voice. But still kept singing. Adele's Rolling In The Deep.

I sat pillion on a bicycle (I cant ride bikes.) and sang Adele's Rollin In The Deep at the top of my lungs. Thank you Vi for pulling my weight, quite literally.

I had chocolate croissants for breakfast. every. single. day. (barring 2 days)

I kept Windowbook going!

I practised bhangra amidst a pile of laundry.

I had the most hilarious conversation in English with a bus driver.

I saw a couple snogging in a public park (haw haw).

I went to a rice noodle making factory. -.- (as if I wasnt Asian enough)

I walked in a state of complete disdain bang in the middle of a main road at 2am in the morning (yes danger seeker me).

I was totally unofficially in charge of waking up a persistent sleeper during the official sessions.

I discovered I have incredible luck in buying good fruit.

Passive smoked more than I ever have in my WHOLE life (thank you F.A.P. and J.M.)

Within one night:

I went sleepless, staying up to edit article after consecutive article.

I got verbally threatened by a Caucasian Australian man.

I was given a handmade card.

Did I mention my sleepless nights thing?

Had the most hilarious time bonding with my Editors.

Made friends.

Got nicknamed 'overly efficient bitch'.

And brace yourselves, I didnt log onto Facebook for 10 days.

For 10 days, from July 9-18th, I was away on yet another (and in fact, the last I will undertake) school trip. As part of the team this year, unlike my previous profiles of Blog Caretaker and Head Photographer, I was Editor in Chief. I wrote about 3 articles, and super-edited all the others. If mistakes remain (as I'm sure they do), they are utterly butterly mine. We went to Ho Chi Minh City, and stayed in the very popular tourist district of Ben Thanh. Befriended 6 completely lovely student guides (I have a dance move named after one!). Had a whale of a time. And really, came back with loads of memories. And stories.

Our collective experiences can be viewed here- In Search Of Saigon.

My articles are available here- Abeer's Articles.

Do let me know if you like any of them. Or anything about them.

Good Evening World.

Possibly one of the best covers out there. And an amazing band. They're German too! Do check them out!

purpose.

there is a larger purpose, one that you may or may not be aware of, behind why this month demands what it does of you.

this post stems from this general, excuse my harsh tone but, whiny-ness of how hard this month is, and how people wish life would just stop in order to make it to easy on them. while i understand how taxing fasting can be in a country and climate like ours, i must say this. that is the very purpose of this exercise.

we're put in this situation so we know exactly what its like.

so it bothers me a great deal when i see statuses dedicated to the great sacrifices people are making, in order to observe the month. it bothers me when people want to have everything tailored to their needs on the sole basis that 'im fasting'. no man. thats exactly the point. you live life just as you would, with this added 'burden' if you will, to show you just the point. that this month is meant to ignite in the greater sense and humility of what thousands and millions go through on a non-ramazan basis. we have the good luck and fortune of going to a home, and eating and filling our tummies to the brim (okay yes, the ones that are away from home, i know, but common, perspective). it really upsets me when i see people who think about the awesome things they're going to have and talk all day about all the stuff they're craving. not to be holier than thou, i do it too, but occassionally is one thing, to constantly talk about it like you're the most deprived person is another. there are tons of people that go about in daily lives not knowing if they would be able to end the day alive, if they can piece together two morsels of food, etc. 

i remember when i was 11, we were in bombay for a month because renovations were taking place at our bombay house and ramazan hit. the help that had been contracted was entirely muslim, and despite doing gruelling physically demanding work day in and day out, they were ALL still fasting. thats one image i repeatedly play in my mind whenever i see people whining about how they have to starve and how hard it is to do stuff. i know we take hits. its hard to concentrate, youre sleepy most of the time and you wish that you didnt have as demanding as a schedule as you do. but think about it. think about why you're being asked to. so many people i know actually partake in this not because of any other reason, but because they feel that going on a diet would do them good. its just... sad.

so the next time, dear fasting friend, consider the purpose of the journey youre undertaking for this month. its only a month long. think about why you're doing this. and while you're at it, lets all swear a little less. yes?

"I FEEL LIKE TAKING EGGS AND THROWING IT AT THEM."

-Hasini P, on couples.

iPray

so one a bright sunny Friday afternoon, by a matter of complete co-incidence, PPY and i ended up having to pray Jumma at the WP mosque (Wilayah Persekutuan mosque for the uninitiated).

as a side note, i find it important to disclose that nothing makes me happier or sends me reeling for joy more than a guy that has the pride to wear his traditional garb. something about it is extremely appealing. i say this primarily because just as i was leaving Monash the day, i saw a dude dressed in a green kurta. and it made me really happy! on a Jumma too! 

okay back to the point. so basically Fridays mosques dont cater to females because its an all-male audience, but thankfully for this mosque, there was a level where women could pray. take note that PPY has spare chappals in the bonnet to change into because as we all know, all the world's chappals go missing at the entrance of mosques (one particular year Najib's wife's got lost too. PPY came home to tell us that!). so we make our way into the mosque, i go off to the ladies, climb a few flights of stairs and reach where im meant to be. i see a burka clad woman sitting so i place myself next to her. now there's quite some time left to go for Zohr, the prayer call, kutbah et al, so i pick up the Quran to try to do one reading of this chapter called Yasin. and as im completely hopeless in arabic numbers, i ask the woman next to me to help me out in getting to the chapter i need to be at. before i know it, she's moved over from her side to help me with my diction. which i found incredibly sweet. and with every line i'd say, she'd just say 'Masha Allah', which frankly i found really encouraging. in the midst of it however i couldnt really make out what she was saying, but i got by and assumed that she was telling me that i was making progress and that i ought to keep reading and practising. then i asked her where she's from and she said yemen. what a lovely lovely lady. i offered her two kids gum because i had nothing else at the time, and asked her if she was here in holiday, to which i think she said yes. anyway, point is, we sat around waiting for the azan after which we prayed together in a single file. 

now what i found incredibly bizarre was that there wasnt a single telekong (female praying garb) in the entire ladies section. clad only in a flimsy dupatta i was barely covered to be able to my hands, which is a little essential while praying. so imagine how touched i felt when the yemeni lady noticed that another malay lady had a spare shawl, asked her if she could borrow it, came back and put it over my shoulder so that i could pray. i was incredibly touched by her gesture to make sure that i was adequately covered! we prayed in a single file and everything done, i came down to meet papa and return home.

obviously being the yusufs, the drama dose of the day was not yet complete, so as we were stepping out, we realised that papa's chappals were gone. looking around frantically high and low, we came to the conclusion that they were gone, whether by mistake or whatever. considering we had over 2oo metres to walk on gravel, and papa's diabetic and theres a chance some odd material might poke his feet and we all know what that means, so i gave papa my chappals. and i learnt that day just how hard it is to walk on gravel barefoot. actually its not that bad. its when you stop walking that the heat and pokey-ness of the gravel hits you. and on a day where the temperature is at 36 C, yeah its pretty bad.

the point of this post, is just to highlight how much i loved going to the mosque. it affirms your sense of belief and made me feel like i belong. the fact that an absolute stranger would care that your prayers are accepted and would do something for you just made my heart soar with happiness. i remember feeling goosebumps going down my body while i was praying because since i was a kid, ive ALWAYS loved praying in congregation with others. and there is one particular moment i love more than any other. it comes at the beginning of every rakat, when you're reading Surah Al-Fatihah and everyone just says Amin in unison. something about that never fails to move me. 

that one sight and the one observation of seeing an entire hall of people just prostate towards the House of God just, i dont even have words for it, but just really humbles me. i remember when id gone over to Saudi Arabia in o8, id purposely hold back and wait till everyone else was in sajda just to see the awe-inspiring sight. and it would get me every. single. time.

that aside, where's everyone going for tarawih?

An Ode To Popcorn

Ah popcorn
What do I not love about you?
Very little I must say.

You are my favourite child, Caramel,
Much much more significantly than your tasteless sister Salty.

The one thing I dont like about you though,
Is how you stick to my teeth all the time.

Sometime many a time,
I end up popping unpopped kernels,
Which just so you know, hurt alot when munching popcorn enthusiastically.

It annoys me when I dont have you,
Yet the person sitting next to me in a cinema hall does,
Primarily because the 'chomp-chomp' sound is unbearable.

But what I love most about you Caramel,
One that you taste so delightful and two,
That there is so MUCH of you!

An Ode To Nabati

O dear sickeningly sweet Nabati

This time round when you finish, 

I will truly mati.

PS. Thank you F.A. Peris and V. V. Nguyen for the re-stocking. 

May God fill your Heaven with a never-ending supply of Nabati.

Abeerism.

Will the real Salim Shahid please stand up?

haw haw.