As a Malaysian Indian who doesn’t celebrate Hari Raya at home, you’d think I’d spend the holiday like any other long weekend. Relaxing, catching up on sleep, maybe binge-watching a new series.
But no. My Hari Raya plans? Set in stone. Eat, eat, and eat some more at every open house I can crash. Let’s be real, open houses are where Malaysia’s true hospitality shines. Like a MAS Airlines ad, but with more rendang and mercun.
For the past few years, my first stop has always been my best friend Najwa’s place. She’s a mix of Arab and Indonesian, which means one thing: top-tier food.
I mean, Raya food is already good. But Najwa’s mom? She’s on another level.
Her beef stew? Life-changing. I don’t know what secret ingredients she’s using—probably love, probably magic—but I refuse to eat beef stew anywhere else now.
On the first day of Raya, my friends and I arrive at Najwa’s place for lunch, and we don’t leave until dinner. If she let us stay overnight, we probably would. Now, my Raya tradition isn’t just about stuffing myself silly. It’s also about sharing the experience. Every year, I drag along friends from other countries to let them witness the beauty of Malaysian open house culture.
his year’s lucky contestants: Pavitra and Justine from France.
They were excited, I was excited, and Najwa’s mom was just happy to have more people to feed.
First, the feast. I watched in amusement as Pavitra struggled to pronounce ‘lemang’ but devoured it like a pro.
Justine, on the other hand, took one bite of sambal and needed an emergency teh tarik to recover. But after a few bites, they got into the groove.
Sampling ketupat, piling on the rendang, nodding enthusiastically when Najwa’s mom asked if they wanted more. Rookie mistake. Now their plates would never be empty.
Then came the post-meal tradition: mercun. Now, imagine explaining to two French girls why we find joy in lighting up explosives and throwing them at each other for fun.
Culture shock? Maybe.
But to me, it’s just an adrenaline-pumping, slightly reckless way of celebrating Raya. Justine hesitated at first, but by the end of the night, she was launching fireworks like she’d been training for it her whole life. Pavitra, meanwhile, screamed the entire time but still held onto her sparklers like they were her last lifeline.
That’s the magic of Hari Raya open houses.
It’s not just about the food (though, let’s be real, the food is 90% of it). It’s about the laughter, the chaos, and the random cultural experiences that leave you with stories to tell. Raya is always extra special when you bring along friends who’ve never experienced it before. Because seeing their eyes light up at the warmth, the generosity, and yes, the explosive entertainment, reminds me of why I love this season so much.
So next year, if you see a random Malaysian Indian wandering into every open house with an entourage of clueless foreigners, just know—it’s me.
And I’m here for the beef stew and the culture shock.
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