Wednesday, April 27, 2011

so much laughter.

alot of rib-tickling funny events have just transpired in the last hour or so.
while i am meant to be prioritising my research at this given moment in time, i must tell you of what happened while my memory is still fresh.

. so one. hasini comes to school and we have lunch together. shangari joins us and we all sit eating happily. this dude called abheetha (notice the similarity in names?) comes and as i see him coming, i tell hasini of his arrival by dancing like him. he notices and gives me the 'im watching you' finger movement. i giggle, we converse about other random stuff. backstory- huge on the sri lankan social calendar is the avurudu gathering the lankans are having this friday. the fact that its been some time since the actual date has past is of no consequence, obviously, coz these people be running on their own unique time. yanyway, so dances are being prepared and all that jazz. so we're drifting and out of conversation, and then from some tangent, i make a song to the tune of Single Ladies. it goes, 'all the Singhalese, all the Singhalese, now put your hands up'. obviously we were trying to rope hasini in for help to take the song further but she doesnt know what the hand movements are called, so our song got stuck at the first line.
never mind. i made another joke. apparently abheetha is the president of something, and the conversation was touching on papare as a hand movement (yeah it wasnt going with the song) and i go, 'o, he's not the President. he's the Paparesident'. i thought it was heelarious.

. two. i told hasini and shangari a joke id just heard on the internets (specifically daniel radcliffe, who's taken it from someone else) and asked them, 'how dyou kill a circus'? i wont tell you what the answer is, because that will take out all the fun from the actual answer of the joke, which is, by the way, hilarious. so anyway, hasini answers 'put abeer in it'.
i found that hilarious. hasini didnt think it was that funny. i bet my mum thinks its hilarious.

. then shangari and i go up to the library to look for a place for her to sit and do work. while we're looking, we spot zi. i tell shangari to take him from one side, i take him from the other side, and we both 'boo' him. considering he's watching the walking dead, he's scared. so we stand around there and talk to him for a good 10 minutes. something happens, i diss shangari, she goes, 'fvck you'. i reply, 'no thank you, id rather not'. ziyan, trying to change the topic goes, 'so, what time did you come?' i fell onto the floor laughing and shangari i assume was also tryina catch her breath somewhere else.

. i told ziyan my joke. his answer was, 'set all the elephants free. they'll trample everyone and everyone will die'. talk about being realistic. talking of elephants, i asked him if he'd watched the trailer for water for elephants, to which he said no. and i was like homg you must see it. yanyway, instead of hearing water for elephants, he heard water four elephants. i had to explain the real meaning in malay by differentiating between untuk and empat, which now that you think about it, also sound a little similar.

. we said bye to zi and let him be with his zombie movie. as we were coming out, we see sachoo (one of my heroes) and iromal and stop to chat with them. so backstory. earlier on, having lunch with the lankans and stuff, i propositioned a dare, that we get an indian to go into the thick of the crowd, and scream, WE WON THE WORLD CUP BITCHES. shangari and i laughed our head off at the thought of the disaster this would be, and i mentioned how they'd start throwing watalappan at us. hasini was like, no, thats too precious, they'll throw themselves at you instead. back to the present. so iromal starts talking to some sri lankan girl in singhala and the three of us-sachoo, shangari and i start miming the lankan accent and pretend singhalese talking. then i tell sachoo about the dare and ask him if he'd do it. he says, 'yeah, ill wear a sri lankan jersey on top, then scream out WE WON THE WORLD CUP BITCHES, and then rip my jersey to reveal an indian jersey underneath'. and then he goes, 'and then ill run really fast to sunway college, and all the lankans will be chasing me in their sarongs, saying 'he went left, left machan. they're be hundreds of them behind me!' i told him id provide the indian jersey.

. so much laughter no?

EDIT:
. so i realised something. the one person who has a name similar to mine turns out to be, yes you guessed it, a boy.

. i told the joke to a number of people. i talked to a semi-arab guy, and his solution for killing the circus was to chop everybody's head off. typical.
i told the same joke to a guy who likes heavy metal. he said 'why would i want to kill a circus?' while this may seem logical, it was not the answer i was looking for. and then he said something, but i forgot because i was too busy noticing his silver skull ring. he always smiles at me though.
i told the same joke to 2 engineering kids. one said 'release a rat into the elephant's cage'. to which another responded, 'or a cockroach'. to which the first said, 'no dude elephants are afraid of rats'. to which the second kid responded, 'i didnt know that'. and that was that. but i still brought the topic to what the joke actually was.

Monday, April 25, 2011

If I Were In Charge

The IPL would have much more interesting alliterated titles, since I'm such an alliterator (the next time you see me, please be kind enough to wave bye bye with a 'see you later, alliterator', please).

The teams would be:
. Rajasthan Royals
. Kochi Kings
. Delhi Daredevils
. Mumbai Musketeers
. Chennai Cavaliers
. Punjab Players (haw haw)
. Pune Pliers (i dont know any good P ones okay!)
. Deccan Druids/Drones
. Kolkata Knights
. Bangalore Boys

If I were to allude to animals, they'd be:
. Rajasthan Rats
. Kochi Kookaburras
. Delhi Donkeys
. Mumbai Mice
. Chennai Cockatoos
. Punjab Parakeets
. Pune Parrots
. Deccan Doppelgangers
. Kolkata Knightingales
. Bangalore Bats

If I were to allude to food, they'd be:
. Rajasthan Raita/Rewari
. Kochi Kesar
. Delhi Dopuridena
. Mumbai Malai
. Chennai Chinchpokli (I know I'm cheating, but no one would believe Chinchpokli is an actual place!)
. Punjab Parathas
. Pune Puris
. Deccan Dhansak
. Kolkata Kumkum
. Bangalore Bhurta

If I were to be plan silly, they'd be:
. Rajasthan Rompers
. Kochi Coochie Coo
. Delhi Dholkers
. Mumbai Meeks
. Chennai Chutney/Chai
. Punjab Postmen
. Pune Parcelwallas
. Deccan Doon Kya?
. Kolkata ko Kom (come to Kolkata!)
. Bangalore Bazookas


I was highly amused. In other news, my current FB profile picture's caption goes, 'The Sari Soliloquy'. I was quite proud of that.

Dear Ikea,

I hope this post finds you at your Scandinivian best. Before I go on to write about my grouse with you, I must commend you highly on everything in your store. It's like going to an candy shop that sells hard chewing gum, Ikea. Candy shop because there are so many choices, all shapes, sizes, colours of the most delightful and charming things, appliances. The place smells so great all the time, and everything is arranged so tantalisingly that you just want to dislodge entire rooms and take them home, make them yours! Hard chewing gum because you know that before you enjoy it and before all the flavour of the gum is released you have to put in a lot of hard work- you have to chew. And I mean, really chew. Of course, chewing in this case is transporting all the stuff back home and having to assemble it, which I personally hate doing, but o well, what can you do. If you want the gum, you'll stick (get it? HAHA!).
Anyway, this post is not about that. This post is about the pillows you guys sell. I have one, and I'm planning to get a new one too. Have you guys noticed the size of your pillows? They're irregular. Sure, I can think, o wow, Swedes, doing things their own way, and I'm sure you want people to think this too. But I for one, can see through this. The reason why your pillows are irregularly-shaped is because you want to make sure that people buy its matching pillow cases, which you've conveniently overpriced! And that is not cool. Sure, the designs are pretty and very cute and would add just the right amount of kitsch in my already-kitschy room, but they're expensive. And for a pillow cover? Hello? The only other option we have is to get pillow cases tailor-made, and you know that most people would rather save themselves the trouble of getting a pillowcase in a less-than-flattering-non-Ikea-material-and-design, so you guys are laughing all the way to the bank, joyous in the knowledge that the 0.0078 % revenue that you generate from selling pillows is secure.
Well played Ikea, well played.
A.

PS. What on Earth is up with the cranberry sauce in the meatballs?

If You're Indian And Need To Win An Argument...

Kindly follow these instructions.

. Get dissed.
. Respond with whatever ammo you have.
. Get dissed even more, cycle continues, boo hoo, and then realise that there is absolutely no way you can win the argument.
. Enter this following line into your diss.
. "Yeah well yknow what? My people won the World Cup."
. You have now won an argument.

PS. It works waaaay better if you're arguing with a Sri Lankan.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Good Evening World.

I realised its been moons since I've posted a music piece. I've been active on my Facebook radar, songs left right and center, its just here that I've been lagging behind.
Yanyway, the song of the moment is Pehla Nasha, from the movie Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar. If you're already cringing, I suggest you read no further. This was teeny-boppy, chocolatey-gooey romance at its 9os best. I dont know if you've watched Easy A or not (you must if you havent! I love it!) but there's this lovely line that I've personally fall in love with. I attach it below here for you.
Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80's movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80's movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.

 Yknow this feeling? Pehla Nasha echoes it directly for me. Propotionately. Completely. Flawlessly.


Now there are hundreds of reasons to not like this song, and more importantly, to mock it. I list out the reasons below.

. Ramlal's Cafe is the desi laughable equivalent of Pop Tate's.
. Aamir Khan singing amidst the valleys. Worse- Rolling down the hill, alone. Looking like Jack from the poem.
. Pooja Bedi's cheesy Marilyn Monroe moment, in a red dress.
. Aamir Khan's fanny pack. I dont even know what to say about that.
. The triple action replay, where the same thing happens 3 times, magnified.

Here are the reasons why I love it.

. That whole chucking tea leaves in the tea plantation move? I did that as a kid at Cameron Highlands. Its liberating knowing that the tea bushes can support all your weight and you can rest on them. Its a lovely feeling.
. That slow motion moment of Aamir's as he falls in love into the arms of his friends? I've felt that. Love feels light and airy, just like that. Without the help of technology too.
. The classroom scene.
. The saxophone bridge in between. If I could hear that one tune all day, I would.
. The beauty of the words.

And here, as a bonus, a brilliant cover on the saxophone.


Would You Like To Be Amazed?

Kindly follow these instructions.

. Get your best amazed playlist on, or if you like the selection I'm about to offer you, go with that.
. Be ready to be amazed.
. Now when I give you these 2 following links, sit back and make sure the links are on at fullscreen.
. Because you will be amazed, and be nothing sort of that emotion, I'll say my bye now. I hope you enjoyed the videos.


Dear Michael Cera,

It was cute when you were the shy, demure, easily-walk-upon-able, doormat guy who has good taste in music, in 2 movies.
I kind of got over it by the time you were doing it in your 3rd, 4th and no surprise, 5th movie.
Kindly make way for character flexibility or hang up those indie-acting boots.
A.

Dear Reader,

Yknow how you feel each time you listen to Lion King's Circle of Life (admit it, you've made up your very own words for that African introduction)?
I feel like that with EVERY English song I listen to.
Honest.
A.

Dear Shakira,

I would like to pose a question to you.
At what point in time exactly did hips start talking, for them to, paraphrase you, 'not lie'?
I remain utterly confused at how hips can lie, or even communicate in such a manner.
I'd be highly obliged if you could provide an explanation, since mine only bump into inanimate objects, get bruised till the cows come home, and on occasion sway.
A.

PS. And 'so you dont confuse them with mountains?' Surely a candidate for the Most Conceited Personality of the Year Award.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Dear James Hopes,

I am certain that every copy editor in every sports column of every newspaper in the whole world loves you for your surname. Because you make sports puns all the more exciting.
HAW HAW.
A.

Dear Kumar Sangakkara,

Yknow that helmet of yours? To me, its what Aladdin's lamp would look like if it were a helmet.
Try rubbing it some time and let me know if it grants any wishes.




A.

Dear Sigur Ros,

Y UR SONGS CANNOT BE SUNG ALONG TO?

O wait, maybe it has something to do with the fact that they're in Icelandic
S'cool, dont worry, I'll just carry on pretending its a make-believe language and that I sound cool. In my mind.


Sunday, April 17, 2011

Mama O Mama!

. We were watching an IPL game where Chennai was playing some other team. Mama randomly goes, 'Yknow Tim Southee's going to Saudia Arabia soon?' And I'm like, o, I didnt know that. Why? She replies, 'Because his name's Southee'.

. Mama has this grand idea, which I must tell you, she is copyrighting, patenting, all that jazz so you cant steal it or take it or use it in any way at all, and there is no exception to this. The grand idea is that she is going to open a kebab store and call it 'Abu Kebab'. This loosely translates into Father of All Kebabs, meaning its going to be so good, it's like the Big Daddy of All Kebabs of All Time. 
She has another idea, which is to open a sandwich store and call it 'Umme Sandwich', loosely translating into Mother of All Sandwiches, so its like My Sandwich is Better Than Your Moms'.

Obviously the last 2 extensions Ive made at my own liberty, but honestly, her idea is crap.

. A mother is by definition, a person who you can snuggle to at 2 am in the night, wake up from her sleep and inform that a mosquito just bit you. And you know what she will do? She wont carry on snoring, or dreaming about her tired and exhausted day. Instead, she'll get up, tell you to apply Calamine lotion and get a little upset about your little blood-sucking nemesis. All this when you're 21.

. Is it just me, or does it amaze everyone else too, that no matter how big you get, your mother's size still remains just the right size to hug and hold? And that you and her fit comfortably with each other, like 2 jigsaw puzzle pieces?

Abeer Appropriates!

. i have a belief. that belief is that everything in life, every experience, every up and every down, can be found in songs by the Beatles, in Calvin and Hobbes comics and ABBA songs. for everything in life, there is an answer among these tomes of art. 

. what does bergamot smell like?

. why does no one want to take me out on a date to IKEA? i only want meatballs and a slice of Daim cake. i dont even want the blanched potatoes and cranberry sauce.
. speaking of which. which genius' idea was it to serve cranberry sauce with meatballs? how do they go?

. also. who on earth thought it would be romantic, of all things to have candle-light dinners? i for one, dont think so. yknow why? because a, you're in a restaurant right? you can barely read the menu in that sort of lighting. b, its such a good trick for them to serve you goop, just because you cant see it. c, im clumsy and klutzy enough without the aid of low-lighting to help me look like more of a spaz. not that i have ever been to a candle-lit dinner ever, but im just saying. its not practical yknow.

. Shangari and I did this really naughty thing in school the other day. this poster was up, for our upcoming Cultural Night, and there was this dude wearing a traditional Moroccan dress. to our prankful minds, it looked more like something out of Harry Potter, specially considering the dude who was modelling it was photographed with his cape on. so i got a pen, a piece of paper and drew painstakingly, 'Harry Potter: Coming to an MPH Near You. 23rd April'. because the event's on the 23rd and its at the MPH. haw haw. shangari helped me put it up. yknow the O in Potter? i even drew a little scar and spectacles. just to be cute. but some spoiltsport went and took my beautifully crafted poster off. beh.

. I Abeer Yusuf am in a perpetual state of happiness and heat.

. have you ever wondered why the sky is blue and no other colour. i ask of you, if you could choose a different colour for the sky, what would you choose? what colour wont you get tired of looking at if it were the sky?

. there is something i wish to do. i want to see how soft a towel will be, alternatively how long it takes to disintegrate if i were to leave it in a lake. i know itd sink to the bottom, but say there were no fish, no lake-life at all. what would happen to the towel? how long before it becomes really soft and almost threadbare?

. for the past many days, i have been wearing my high school sweater. you've seen it. and you've seen me in it. mama keeps insisting that i stop wearing it because it shows off my big bum in my jammies, but i like it. because its comfortable.

. my big point is that i love sweaters not for any other reason, but because they make you feel like someone is constantly hugging you. and who doesnt want that right?

. i love nothing more than going into the Lounge and hijacking the sound system. the other day i played I'm No Superman (theme song from Scrubs, remember?) and ABBA's Voulez Vouz. i also hijacked the sound system for this ticketing counter that has been set up for Cultural Night and played Sajnaji Vari Vari, Gal Mitthi Mitthi and Sadi Gali. because im desi and i can.

. tomorrow im going to play Elvis' Rubbernecking. its one of my absolute favourites.

. i have found to my disadvantage that almost all the girls i know are going to be wearing sexy saris while i will be the only one who's going to be sporting a Sonia Gandhi creation. jai hind.

. then again, they wouldnt call me Abeer if i weren't doing things differently no?

. so people call me A, they call me B, Bee. so on and so forth. is there any way to convince you to refer to me as E? because yknow, that sounds like a cute nickname too!

. my one true love in life? my quilt. ive had it since i was 5. and i love it. nothing makes me feel as comfortable, warm and fuzzy as does that. its like a lovely mug of hot chocolate overflowing with marshmallows on a cold snowy night in front of a warm cackling fire. i love my quilt. i will never give it up.

. im fly like a machar (machar is a fly in Hindi). haw haw.

. i have a thought. i think that when God created women, he told them that the one qualifying factor that would differentiate them with the other gender was the ability to fake an orgasm. only on the basis of that did he allow women to be women. i think.

. what is a tureen?

. i cant read my own handwriting. 

. i think orange is a lovely colour that looks lovely on almost everybody.

The Answer.

Over the many many months I have been asked the same question by many many people.
I finally have an answer.
The answer is,

He wasnt my cup of chai and I wasnt his mug of coffee.


Its as simple as that. There is no hate, no omygod chai-is-better-than-coffee moments (or vice versa), or anything that would go into the negative. There is simple acceptance that our choices of hot beverages were just different.

+, at least now I can identify a bassline.

And seriously, someone needs to bring back Seasons Ice Peach Tea into the market.

Dear You,

There are a few things I must inform you about.
That one, I cannot tolerate snoring at all. So you must not snore.
Also, I sleeptalk alot. Apparently a few nights ago, I was screaming. Though I hope this stops happening by the time I'm with you, you should be warned, just in case. I thought I was cured of it, but to be honest, I hadn't really slept with anyone, so I didnt know if I ever stopped (not that I'm sleeping in that sense, but my room-mate once told me that I got up at night, asked her a question, and then went back to sleep. How bloody weird am I?!).
In return for putting up with this, I promise you infinite curls for bedhead when I wake up in the morning with an aromatic smattering of bad breath.
Go romance!

PS. I have been known on occassion to kick people off my bed as well, so yeah, you might want to, uh, just yknow, be prepared for that sorta thing. I'm really cuddly though. Alot of people say that. So yknow, I hope the cuddly-ness cancels the aggressive-ness out.

Dear You,

I cant wait to rub noses with you.
I hope also, that you fall in love with me.
With my mind, with my personality, with my being.
With the way I deal with problems.
I hope that you're attracted to me because of my mind.
I hope that you see what others cant- that I choose to be the way I am, that I choose to be happy, to make the choices that I do. 
I hope you dont think that I'm childish.
I hope to turn you on with my wit (or lack of).
I hope you stay in love with me despite the way I handle situations.
 I hope you can tolerate and bear me.

But most importantly, I hope you dont see it as tolerating or bearing me and that you love me in entirety.
A.

Dear Happiness,

After 6 very long and draining months, thank you very much for finding your way back home. Me and my smile missed you sincerely and are grateful beyond our being to have you home. 
Thank you for coming when you did. 
We're never letting you go again.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Dear Mr. Kevin McAllister,

I promise, that no matter what happens, no boy will ever have the same effect on me as you did.
I promise.
A.

PS. I promise, when I grow up and have access to a photobooth, I will make that shocked horror face like you did so well! 

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Are You Depressed?

Well then depress no more.
Because I have the perfect-est solution.
As soon as this post ends, get out of your house, drive to the nearest mall 
(I would've said park, but what I'm about to suggest is only obtainable in malls nowadays, sadly).

Once there, go to the Food Court, or try to loiter around the kids-themed stores. Or even the lifts. 
 The lifts would be your best bet, methinks.

Once there, hunt for little babies in prams or in their parents' arms.


Now before I tell you what to do, it is imperative to not give up on the first try.

Because you are dealing with a breed that is distinctly uncultivated you might find yourself a little flustered and exercising your facial muscles a little more than necessary, but fear not.
Your efforts will bear fruit.

Okay, now look at the baby, and just grin.
Smile like you mean it, smile like you've never smiled before, smile like no one's watching. Not even the baby's mama.

And when the baby smiles back, you are no longer depressed.


If this simple and fail-proof solution somehow makes you cynical about why I think this will no longer depress you, I have the answer.
Children are not socially trained or adept to know when to smile and when to not. Unlike us adults, they dont do it out of obligation, societal compulsion or because they find someone more attractive than someone else. In that, their smiles are completely genuine. They smile at you because you appeal to them, they're not judging you by how many minutes you spent doing your hair, how sartorially-challenged you are, nothing. They smile because you made them happy, because something about that face you pulled, just something inexplicable made their day.
And when they cackle?
You can consider yourself out of Depressionland, and firmly stamped into Happyland.

Now fa la la la, my loves.

When I Was A Kid

I once took part in some kind of a children's parade, fashion show- God knows what. Basically, it was an Indian people thing, because each child was to go on stage, represent a particular city from India, say something about it, look cute and then the next child was to come on.
I was New Delhi.
Dyou know what my line was?
'Mein Hindustan ka dil hoon'.
Which means, I am Hindustan's heart.

It will also surprise you, perhaps warm you even to know what my first word was- dil. Heart. And I know this because apparently I was calling out to my father, who used to call me 'dil'. It happened in Dubai, when I was in a car and I was calling out to Papa.

I also find it imperative to let you know that whenever I so much as read a newspaper article on alien life forms, or Roswell, or UFO sightings or anything from that family, I subconsciously start humming the X-Files theme tune. That has got to be the best theme tunes in like, ever.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Dear Mr. Legend,

I dont know if you've recieved the other answers from whoever else you addressed your song to, but I would like to tell you, that from my end, I have indeed crashed and burned. I hope this helps you in defining the answer.
That is all.
A.

Dear You,

When I meet you, you dont have to say anything, do anything out of the ordinary. 
Just please lift me off the ground in embrace. 
That is all.
A.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Abeerism

I write artickles, not articles. Because my articles are funny.

HAW HAW.

The Big One.

Okay, brace yourselves. This is going to be an extremely long post.
Last night was the build-up to one of the most important nights in cricketing history. For the first time ever, 2 South Asian nations were going head-to-head in a World Cup final. Big news indeed.
For the first time in my life, I was going to watch a final where India was one side and my friends' team the other. I didnt know any Sri Lankans back in 2007, or earlier. But now I have Sri Lankans friends. I was camping out on Twitter the entire day, looking at tweets and what people from either side of the sea had to say about the match. There was a lot of wit, a hell load of tweets and just, an amazing virtual experience (both bad and good) on how technology has revolutionised the game. You have the people who think that their score updates are important, you have the witters (that's witty tweeters. how cool am i?!) who more often than not have something really unique to say and you have the fans- the ones who gloat, the ones who fear, the ones who pray.
So first up, the match analysis.
Sanga said that the Indians were the favourites going in, they most probably were, given the backing even cricketing legends gave them- be it Ranatunga, Kapil Dev, Sir Viv, what have you. But I am of the opinion that they were also the underdogs. Its simple. No cricket team in the world faces as much pressure as does the Indian team. And only because of 2 entities- fans and sponsors. Intertwined these 2 entities play an extremely crucial role when it comes to advertising revenue and viewership. Its one of my favourite topics to debate and discuss on, because its so pluralistic and people dont often see beneath the team. Do I personally like the Indian team? No. They lack a great amount of sportsmanship and have egos the size of a boy I know. I know this is no reason to hate on a team, but I have expectations if you're playing a 'gentleman's game'. Yaanyway, India was the favourite yes, but I feel like Lanka had the upper hand. Why? Because first, there was relatively less pressure on them as opposed to India. Secondly their road to the finals was well-designed and brilliantly chartered. Easy victories where their skill as a well-rounded team came into focus lead them to a deserved place in the finals. Last, they're a much better unit than India is at the moment. They field well, they have world-class bowlers and batsmen, they can attack, and most importantly, they can handle pressure.
And given that they came into the finals pretty much free of drama, like a free breeze, the pressure was definitely not on them. So it's a surprise really when their fielding turns out as sloppy as it did last night.

The match started really well. I lost hope when Mahi lost the toss, because from what I have seen, India isnt so good chasing. So Sri Lanka comes out there, India fields exceptionally, gets important wickets, bowling's tight, everything's right. And then comes Mahela. Everything said and done, at the end of the night, man deserved serious props and perhaps a trophy too, for the innings he put up. So well designed and wisely played, uff. Then comes in Nuwan, who supports him brilliantly, goes off to make way for Perera, who further dents the damage inflicted upon the Indians. Their powerplay runs were I think the most painful, and as the first innings came to a close, you could see the big wide grins and smiles from the Dark Blue dressing room. Totally confident and all that (like you know, you can tell from their faces, 'guys, we got this').
Come back into the game 2o minutes later, and what do you see? o for 1. Soon, you lose ST at 28 for 2. As much as I was rooting for ST to go out in style, may I please take this moment and say, thank God there was no century for him (yeah, I kinda believe that thing they say). 2 major wickets so early on into the game and against such a credible bowling side. Gah! Gambhir comes in and just handles the situation, sticks on for such a long time only to lose his wicket in the most dastardly and unwise fashion, making way for Yuvi, who ends the World Cup finals in partnership with his skipper Mahi. Injuries dog both D & G, but they manage to get the better of it- Mahi doing a little better than Gauti. Perhaps the best visual I've seen all year was the grab of his eyes, just watching the stitched ball mosey its way out of the field, and that cool walk, like he's part of some Western, just short of blowing the blade of his bat like they do guns in those climax scenes. I was also rooting for double M to go out in style, preferably with a wicket in the last ball of his ODI career ever. But that was not to be. Instead there was a hail of misfielding from their side. All said and done, a great match between 2 deserving teams.

So there you have it. The World Cup final. Now for the stuff that matters to me. Before I begin, I'd just like to say, I'll finally be able to tell my children that I watched the World Cup finals where India emerged victorious, and in the technological context of Twitter. This was the first big cricket match of its scale in sight of social media. After all, it's going to be old hat by the time they're all born and whatnot.

What I Loved

. Rajnikanth.
The match stopped mattering after I saw the crown on his head.

. Malinga.
It takes great character to smile at your opponent and appreciate their talent, someone who is hitting you for a 4, at a crucial time like a last ball. For that spirit Lasith, take a bow (if it was upto me, I'd give you a Sportman Spirit of the Night Award).

. Nuwan Kulasekara, Thilan Samaraweera, and Younus Khan.
For being the three men in the world who smile no matter how embattled the situation you're facing on field is. The world lacks men like you.

. Dhoni.
For sticking it out, for the tremendous amount of pressure you had to swallow, the other speech and defences you'd have had to prepare if you hadnt won the game, for playing a wise innings, and for that speech.

. Virat.
Yes, I know what you're thinking, but only for one reason. Perhaps the best line of the night, for saying, "He has carried the nation on his shoulders for 21 years, I think its time we carried him on ours".

. Sachin Tendulkar.
For being the majestic human being that he is- giving credit where it was due. For thanking the coach, the support staff, Mike Hall, everyone. Humility is what makes a legend.

. Aamir's Khan moochi.
Mangal Pandey 2: Rise of the Rebels is it? So Veerapan, so awesome.

. Preity Zinta's tricolour fan.
She's such a fan, she brought a fan!

. Sonia Gandhi on Delhi's streets celebrating the win.
I kid you not. There's even a picture.

. Rahul Gandhi.

. Munaf Patel.
For that wide gum-bearing smile when called upon stage to recieve his medallion and the reluctance to get off the stage, in those pants and those flip flops. How innocent.

. Gauti.
For doing what he did.

. Simon Taufel.
Marry me. Also, at the end of this sentence you will realise that Aleem Dar looks alot like Waqar Younis.

. Sehwag.
For the hilarious accent and speech at the end of the match, the whole 'dont give him a free hit' jibe directed at Taufel and for opening the medallion receiving ceremony without any care for alphabetical orders.

. Christina Jayawardena.
For three things. The paper to her face in fear of what might become of her Mister and whether he'd manage to reach the half-century mark, for encouraging him to 'staaay thaaair' as he made his half-century mark, and for the love and support as he ended his run. I dont think I've ever seen a wife so in love. Mr. Mahela, you're a very very lucky man.

. Players thanking Gods.
The milestones you achieve with faith. Harbhajan Singh thanking his Gurus, Malinga and MM with the white thread tied around their wrist.

. Two legends shaking hands and sharing encouragement before the match began.

. Junior MM.
For wearing a Chennai Super Kings shirt. Cutest thing ever.

. The Indian team.
For finally shutting Kapil Dev up.

. Mahela.
For everything and more that he's done in the match.

. Nasser Hussain.
For shutting Sanjay Manjrekar up and telling him not jinx the game, and also stating the whole Sachin's Ton Curse.

. Sachin being carried.
I must confess, the only thing that I was concentrating on was to make sure his crown jewels wouldnt get ripped apart. The most sweet thing were the 2 little Tendulkars, Sara and Arjun, who joined their Papa for a tour of the grounds.

. The Indian team in tears.
Emotional excellence guys.

. The DJ.
For playing one song, Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar's Yahan Ke Hum Sikandar. I know why you played it, but it was the best song in the circumstances.

. Vande Mataram.
You could hear everyone in the stadium singing along to it.


What I Didnt Like

. Double M.
I didnt want him to go out the way he did. I was hoping for something mind-boggling. As I stated earlier, a wicket in the last ball of his ODI career would have made it fantastic. I didnt like seeing a legend leaving that way. Anti-climatic yo.

Double M's send-off.
Dear Sri Lankans, I apologise. We know better than that. And if you feel like that send-off, the oblivious-ness of the Indian crowd was unbecoming of us neighbours, we apologise. MM deserves a long standing ovation, salutes all around. I am sorry you had to see him walk off into the dressing room in such a pathetic fashion. Rest assured, I too was rooting for him. I too wanted him to take a wicket (it would have been great desi drama if he'd gotten Tendy out!), and I too wanted him to be sent off as a legend. I am sorry that didn't happen, and I'm sorry the crowd didnt acknowledge through applause what a star like that means in a match like that.

. Virat.
OYEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. He may be a member of India's youth playing in the squad, but I assure you, Indian youth are not like that. We have manners, we know how to respect the game, and we dont behave like children. If this is what anyone thinks the face of future Indian cricket looks like, I hope to prove you wrong. We have Raina's and Chawla's as well, all boys who're growing into capable men with substance.

. Jai Ho, Chak De India.
If I have to ever hear the 2 damn songs again in my life, I will barf on my best shalwar.

. De Ghooma Ke.
Because its the most ridiculous jingle to come out of the Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy camp, I think this deserves a hate post of its own.

. Russell Arnold.
Dear Kumar Sangakarra, as much as I love you and would like to devote myself to you, I must ask you to retire at once and give a glimmer of hope to Sri Lankan commentary. It was like nails scratching on a chalkboard to hear Russell Arnold commentate. In a god-damn final. Please do us all a favour and lend the mike your voice.

. Saurav Ganguly and Sunil Gavaskar.
These two are such epic mis-commentators I cant even begin to tell you.

. Ravi Shastri.
Everything and I mean everything about that final presentation ceremony was majestically wrong. Majestically wrong. His hair, his tie (okay, now I'm just hating), mistaking names, stumbling like a bumbling bee, no flow in his speech, no poise. Quite possibly the most anti-climatic and pikha (dull) end India could have asked for. What was that comment as Sachin was fielding? 'Quite possibly his last ODI ever.' You dont say things like that man, unless you want people to throw red paint at your house. And dont even get me started on the majestic fail that is his commenting ability.

. Sanga's speech.
I wanted him to say something to his home crowd. All the same, I can understand being overwhelmed by emotions. It showed in his eyes.

. Graphics Team.
I said this way earlier, I'll say it again. The entire graphics team, and on-line team was a huge disappointment. Considering that this was a match, and an event more than 2 billion turned on to watch, this was a big disappointment. Graphic plates disappearing, technical glitches, wrong score sets, bands going awry, this progamme will never win any Features awards. Shoddy all the way through. Special mention to the camermen, specially in the field, who couldnt manage to get good shots, who blurred images way too often for anyone's liking and who couldnt reel cameras to where the action is- no celebrities (despite us knowing how many people were there) and no smart witty placards, no emotions of crowds. The Lankan online team was waaay better and should have been given a run of the Wankhede last night.

. BCCI.
If there's one thing that upset me the most, it was the end announcement by BCCI, which as usual, Ravi S botched up. Giving 1 crore rupees to all players? Whaaaaaaaaaaaat? What's worse, 50 lakhs to the real men behind the team. I feel so disgusted I dont even have words.


Many Letters

. Dear Sreesanth,
You now own a crore rupees at the very least. Kindly get a haircut. Or a hairband.

. Dear Malinga,
I'll pay for your haircut.

. Dear Indian Supporters,
Lets just agree to bury the musical gaffe that is De Ghuma Ke and agree to never use it as a term in our statuses, conversations or just anywhere. Ever again.

. Dear Sachin Tendulkar and Muttiah Murlidharan,
Take a long and hard bow. For being the last gentlemen remaining in a gentlemen's game, for exuding spirit, persona and humility that only men of your stature can. For showing the world, naysayers and all how you can overcome difficulties, rough patches, tough times. And for making us proud to be able to associate ourselves and say, 'I saw a legend play'.

. Dear Indian and Lankan Team Supporters,
Kindly stop taking potshots and jibes at the opponents. Its extremely rude to go beyond the game. Calling Indians 'chappatis and 'papads', Lankans 'villagers' and 'fishermen' is just immature. '1 billion frowns and 20 million smiles? A billion jubiliant browns and 20 million clowns?' Keep it to the game. Hope that your side wins. Is cool. If it just so happens that your side loses, it requires a great amount of restraint to keep the opponents from going, HAH. A great royal amount of restraint.

. Dear Indian Team,
Congratulations. You've just done undone a bunch of stats. You are now the first host team to ever win a WC Final on home grounds. I know what those tears were for. I know how so many months and years of frustration went into this, and how those tears were your emotions unravelling. I know how there was an insane amount of pressure on you, how you had to prove a point from 2007, the fear that unruly fans might hurt family and friends, the criticism you've had to take head on, the way the situation would have panned out if we weren't on the winning side last night. Doing this for Sachin, basing an entire campaign around one man, and being able to live up to that. For all the match-fixing allegations and controversies you've courted like Hugh Hefner courts Playboys. Pat yourselves on the back Team India, pat yourselves on the back.

. Dear Sri Lankan Team,
You deserve nothing less than a standing ovation. For your temperament, for your belief and for supporters that are die hard. You reach home very soon. Please give Double M the send-off you rightly know he deserves. You didnt win this World Cup, it doesnt matter. You didnt just try is what matters. You gave it more than your best. You didn't base your entire WC campaign around 'Winning it for Murli', so dont feel any less about yourselves. I know what it feels like, being so close to victory, almost clinching it, then watching it slip away from your hands.
If you will remember however, 2007 wasnt the most pleasant of circumstances to be playing in. You have risen from that, a terrorist attack on your bus, and so so so much more. To come out so tall and strong after so many adversities, you can only go from strength to strength.


Love,
A.

PS. Did anyone else at all fall in love with the 2015 logo? That is what I'm talking about. 
PPS. I know the real reason behind India's victory- Rajnikanth.Mind it machangs.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Abeerism.

I have decided to flirt shamelessly with narcissism. And in dedication to that and my big-as-an-air-balloon-inflatable ego, I have decided to confer myself with the term 'Abeerism'. 
What is an Abeerism you ask?
Well, quite simply it is something you'd hear me say. I have decided it would be better where its got a connection to something desi. But yknow not necessarily. I wish I was popular enough to constitue a Facebook fanpage for Abeerisms, but I guess not. Or maybe when others are convinced that my Abeerisms are actually deserving of more than just an eyeroll.
So for the inaugral post, I hereby present you with 3 Abeerisms.

'Keep it in your lungi man'.
'That's how we roll- the chappati'.
'[insert entity or commodity displeasing you] ki maa ki aankh/naak'.

Dear You,

This is just to remind you that it would be politically correct if you were to go all cheesy on me and say, 'You're one in a billion'. Because I really am. And what's more interesting, I'm one of those 1.2 billion people that counts for the Census that has been undertaken. I was in Mumbai when the Census Committee had come out to conduct the census. And my name is officially registered as an Indian.
So what I'm saying is, I may not be much, but really, unless you like Chinese girls, I'm one in a billion. Extra ribbon cheese to go with that, if you like.
A.

When I Was A Kid

there are 2 memories i would like to leave here.

. I used to love eating milk powder. It was called Nido in Kuwait, manufactured by Nestle, and is called Nespray here in KL. I loved scooping some from the tin (I used to open the metal tin by using the handle end of a teaspoon) and then taking a spoon and eating it. But soon it would get too much, because the white powder would start sticking to the walls next to my molars. And then Id have to be all disgusting and unstick it from there. When I came to KL, I started doing the same with Milo powder. That is all.

. There was one place I loved the most in my old school, the one on Jalan U Thant. O, before I go on. I found out when I was 14 that U Thant was actually a UN Secretary General. Till then, I used to think that the U in U Thant stood for some sort of U-turn like translation in Malay. U Thant was Burmese, just for your knowledge. Anyway, so our old campus was this nice little place on Jln U Thant, very cozy and all. I was about 11 when we moved out from that one to the main road on Jln Ampang, but that place is just kickbum. Its a car showroom now, but it was epic in its time. And the thing I loved most about my old school was its library. I loved being able to stand outside the door, which as it would be opened by a kid, would exude cool air-conditioned air (how precise eh), and then you'd come into this little place that had one table and many many green plastic chairs. there were books around, but the thing i cared most about was this picture of a sad joker. i still remember his bulging red nose. but what i dont remember is whether he was tearing or not. there was a board, the kind they have at supply stores in America, where you can input screws and fix fixtures (o again!). it was white in colour and this painting or print, whatever it was, hung upon that. and then there was the bigger room. there were more green plastic seats there, with many more tables. i dont remember where the librarian used to sit, but i do know that the 4 walls of the library were ceiling to floor (well, almost ceiling) covered in books. the top shelves were seats for trophies Fairview's very own kids had won, whether it was for Sports Day or some other competition. that place was the best. it was cozy and nice and quaint. it wasnt all public library in Washington, but it had a quiet grandeur about it. a sleepiness. you know? i love that. i love sleepy libraries, where you can sleep, where someone can have animated conversations about art, where people can fall in love.
okay im going to stop now. i miss my old school library. that is all.

Dear You,

When my joint flexibility leaves me, my eyesight falters, my memory gets dimmer and dimmer, I hope you'll stay.
A.

Dear System of The World,

When exactly did the term 'pranking' get replaced by 'trolling'? I dont quite like it and would therefore request to revert to the way things were.
A.

Dear You,

I know how to tell that you'll be the one. When I sit and watch Harry Potter, or some equally emotional gut-wrenching theatrical experience, you'll go into another room and laugh your glorious guts out. But once you're done, you'll come back with a box of tissues for me. And an unlimited supply of hugs. Gee.
A.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Abeer Appropriates!

. i love driving through (to be precise, being driven through) roads where trees line streets during the day. dyou know why? for one reason only. as you are being driven through, sunlight continues to play hide and seek with you, peeking and shying away through tree branches. the tree provides you shade from the sun, and the sun brightly shades the tree. i think its a divine feeling. you must feel it to know how brilliant it feels.

. i never was one to cut my wrists when it was the order of the day, so i wont be committing suicide for the events of today. (this has no bearing whatsoever on anything that happened today. its just something i thought of.)

. to the people of the world who are my friends, i am aware of the fact that India will be playing Sri Lanka in the Finals. please stop telling me this already.

. just because you have it, does not mean you need to flaunt it. surprises are rather nice too.

. i will be extremely shallow if i were to find a man that looked like Peter Newman did in his prime.

. the main difference between you and me love, is that im not governed by hate.

. today and yesterday i was witness to a hilarious number of quotes. i regurgitate them as follows:

. why do you always look like you're dressed for winter?
. yeah abeer, cute smile and all that, but its getting old now (this was in reference to my gum-bearing brilliance i naturally effuse when i find someone hilarious).
. on my peacock headband, a friend had this to say- dude, it looks like a butterfly shat on your hair.
. the sexiest thing about you abeer, is your indian accent. i love it when you start speaking like an indian.

. yesterday as i came home, i went in for a bath (i dont typically have a bath in the evenings), put on a face mask and later exclaimed that i was hungry. apparently this was enough to constitute a mine of desi suspicion for my mum, who asked me first, 'are you going for a wedding? taking so much care of yourself'. when i laughed and said no, she let it go. but then picked it up again when i started saying i wanted a chutney sandwich (its the most amazing thing ever. really.). she goes, 'abeer, dyou have a boyfriend? you're all different now. you want to clean yourself, you're hungry, you're applying a face mask'. and then she says in english, 'i know that there is something fishy going on here. i will fish what fish this is'.
at home, you cant even indulge yourself without someone thinking that you're dating again.

. a taco is a mere Indian chappati pretending to be Mexican. Jalapenos are actually an Indian delicacy called Halla Peenoh, a dish which's title translate drink loudly.

. was that which's right grammar?

. so i have some very good news. one of my chest ribs has stopped showing. if this doesnt call for a party, i dont know what does.

. papa just bought black spanish olives. this is about as exciting as my day can get!

. i will one day own at least a few works by quentin blake. i intend to make my home one that overflows with art and beauty that i find particularly fetching.

. my 8-year old high school sweater still fits. i love it. now i can alternate wearing that and my jacket for days when i dont want to feel so dressed up.

. instead of my thesis on TCKs i should have just done a piece on Boys and How They Can Never Grow Out of Immaturity. id hit the 15ooo word count even before i'd have had the chance to hit my literature review.

. yesterday i was dancing to rubberneckin' in front of julian's office, while waiting for him to finish with a student. there was no music, i wasnt listening to my iPod and i was alone. but i wasnt. turns out there was a boy right that moment passing the hallway who right at that moment saw me jigging to absolutely nothing. he probably thinks im a loon.

. if there is one reason why india should lose tomorrow's match, it is that very few members on that team actually have manners. absolutely no sportsmanship and dripping of ego, its really pathetic the way they play the game. virat kohli, zaheer k and harbhajan singh in particular need to get a grip on their language. its a game, they're batting to you, they're not slandering your reputation.

. i think ashish nehra is the cutest thing alive. particularly because he's always smiling. and when he's not really happy, he doesnt really swear.

. i think the best part about the pakistan-india match was the soundtrack. nothing says india better than bhangra.

. i saw an awesome joke on twitter. i repeat it here. 'what exam do aspiring umpires have to take? the Toufel'. HAHAHAHAHAHA. right?

. it takes a special kind of asshole, in my opinion, to make your girlfriend cry on her birthday.

. we were watching the india-pakistan post match interview. waiting for it actually, when india decided to take a break for commercials. i switched to CNN to see if any one of the 3 networks were covering the news (CNN was, the others werent). so on CNN, they'd cut to CNN-IBN where Rajdeep Sardesai was in conversation with Allan Border, Imran Khan, Murali Karthik, Anil Kumble and Sir Viv Richards. so teeny bit of post match analysis going on and as the newsroom saw the conversation go off on a technical tangent, they returned to the studio in the US, where this other woman goes, lets go down to Mohali with our correspondent there. so she asks the Indian chick what the atmosphere there is like, and this woman, who is outside the stadium, with her back to it, is saying things like its electric, everyone here has erupted into happiness, all that cliche reporter jazz that comes with sensationalising sport victories. and then one of the men from the newsroom asks her, 'but india has just won the semi final till now. the finals are still 2 days away. dyou think they're a little overconfident?' and just as this reporter is about to answer, there comes a drunk man into the frame, waving a huge Indian flag, 'eendeeea is GREEEEEEYAT counnnntry' and something else that i cant seem to remember now. nevertheless, he proved her point. haw haw.

. rameez raja does NOT like kamran akmal. haw haw.

. So while watching the match, there were shots of Viru (Virender Sehwag) talking to umpire Ian Gould. they showed them once talking, cut away to the game and a while later, back to the same shot, where they were still talking. So Papa asks, 'When did Ian Gould learn Punjabi?' Quite some time later, Harbhajan got Afridi's wicket. Being overwhelmed, he went all Tarzan, mouth open and chest jiggling. At the same time, there were loads of moths flying about. So while his mouth is open, Papa goes, 'Moo bandh kar warna makhi andar chale jayegi' (close your mouth or the fly will get in there).