Tuesday, January 19, 2021
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Editorial

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When a new dawn breaks, hope rains dewdrops on little blades of grass

The wet earth basks in the golden warmth ready for a new beginning.

Owing to this dawn our fragile dreams past, present and future,

We step out into the unknown; knowing just our beliefs and convictions…

Dear Readers,

It is New Year time- time for reflections on the year gone by, time for some resolutions and, of course, time for new beginnings. The year gone by has been a memorable one for us at Bamboo Lounge and January 2010 begins with new hopes- the most auspicious being Fried Eye which begins its journey today.

At the very outset let me introduce Fried Eye to you. Fried Eye is an experimental e-venture by a bunch of youngsters from the Northeast who believe in the region’s unique and complex multi-cultural identity. As the name itself suggests, what we say or see is not new but we believe we need newer perspectives to the mundane and the everyday.More importantly, we need to accommodate the ways in which the youth of today likes to see things around them. And that is precisely what we hope this magazine will allow space for. We hope that the magazine emerges as a compendium of insights from all fields of life.

It is with great pleasure that we offer before you the inaugural issue of FriedEye. In this maiden issue, revisit Guwahati with Ajatasatru . Get acquainted with green technology through environmental developer Gerard Pde and relive the experiences of filmmaker Bidyut Kotoky’s journey as he reminisces the making of as the River flows… .Tanmoy evokes the spirit of Fried Eye in his poem while Jumi’s verse evokes the experience of a regeneration. In the Children’s Section we feature Sneha, a talented young writer from Carmel School, Jorhat. Hashan shares his New Year experience with us in Random Take while Mani Padma urges us to stop and reflect about the plight of the less fortunate around us through her thoughtful piece in 55 Fiction. In addition, we bring to you the first pages from the new diary of a young lady who has granted us access to her inner world on conditions of anonymity. Besides, do not forget to sneak peak into the column of the Wise Bachelor who is determined to help mankind with ready answers to any query his readers may have.

As you journey through the eclectic palette of Fried Eye we hope every page that greets you emerges a treat for the eye and the mind. Happy Reading !

With warm regards,

Myra B
Editor
(on behalf of the Fried Eye team)

Good News

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4 Manipuri Plays to be Staged in National Theatre Fest

New Delhi: Four Manipuri plays will be staged in the 12th Bharat Rang Mahotsav to be held from January 6 to 22 in the National Capital. The festival organized by the National School of Drama will have the plays When We Dead Awaken by Ratan Thiyam, Rajarshi Bhagyachandra by M C Thoiba, Sanabam Thaninleima`s Ashang Eina Aton and Toijam Shila Devi`s Black Orchid. These along with other select plays from the country will share the stage with entries from other countries in the 17-day long festival— the biggest of its kind in this part of the world.

Chef’s Pick: EarthStudio

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This corner is for individuals, events or groups who spin their own tales with a twist, and thereby make a difference to the way we live, see and feel things. We hunted around for an apt start to the column and zeroed in on a Delhi-based company as the first Chef’s Pick.
EarthStudio is a venture committed to the application of “green design principles in Building Science” and has been around since 2008. The primary goal of the company is to integrate environmental design principles with the physics of building to achieve the lowest consumption of energy, while maximizing comfort. We spoke to the Principal of EarthStudio, Mr. Gerald Pde. Following are the excerpts.

Scorpio

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He looked at it longingly. He only had five, but it cost ten. He did not want to ask anyone for the rest. Why was he so unfortunate? With a heavy heart he gave the Scorpio a last look.

Just then a little beggar went by shouting: “My lucky day. Madam gave me ten rupees!”

Solace

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An expression of anger can be liberation.

When Mike Wool was a young boy, he was called ‘Springs’. Not for nothing. He could leap and run and shoot in the basketball court like he had spring on his soles.

They also called him shy, but they weren’t too correct in that. Mike was quiet, but the great NBA star was famous in the tabloids for sudden violent outbursts. A glimpse of the faint scar on his neck and it would all come rushing back to him; his father pushing him to practice, thrashing him when he didn’t want to. He built that anger in him to such a mountain that peace became a flimsy, elusive word. Now sitting on the benches for the game to begin, he hated the kids in the stands for their childhood, for being able to watch the game without being expected to learn from it to be the best.

Are you coming?

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I am gonna fly now
Gonna fly real high now,
I’ve no time to rest
I shall be soon the best!
Are you coming?
Are you coming, my love?

Together we can
We can make it happen
It will not be you and me
Now the world will see.
Are you coming?
Are you coming, my friend?

THE REVIVAL

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Lost was I, somewhere in the dark;
Veiled by the shadows of despair:
My soul derelicted by the waves of time,
My heart depredated by a sudden gush of wind,
Marooned was I, on a lonely island
With solitude as my sole solace-
None to share a tear or a smile,
None to give me an ounce of love.

New Year Resolution

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Its New Years Eve. And it has worked up frenzy among some of us to take New Year Resolutions. Habituated to acting in a pack (umm well almost) I have decided to take a resolution too…
I have most resolutely resolved to be proud of being a Female- with all its inherent strengths and shortcomings.

Whoa! What a resolution you may say. Amounts to having no resolution at all. Well, actually think again. Being a female can have its own sets of positives and negatives. And that is without even adding additional labels of careers, dreams, responsibilities -familial or otherwise.

Wise Bachelor

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In the dark recesses of a Delhi office, Fried Eye spotted a young man quoting a cheap Hindi writer and imparting gyan to all and sundry around him. The accessible man that he is, we came to know from Wise Bachelor his story. He first made an impression when he dirtied the hospital nurse’s dress and spared his mother from the smelly truth that she has a son who shall rub all on their wrong sides with his uncanny wit. As he grew up, he took a keen interest in life and everything around him; third-grade movies, K-serials and Indian politics became his favourite subjects. As a veteran of five failed romantic relationships, Fried Eye decided to offer him the role of an Agony Uncle; WB took the offer as he was more than willing to give many people a square deal.

Wish me a Happy New Year

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“You don’t have sufficient fund” – spat the monitor of the ATM machine right across my face.
What???I dont even have 300 rupees in my account?

I entered 200 rupees. After a long counting sound ATM machine puked two hundred rupee notes. Thank God .Hope salary will be credited tomorrow in first half. I will be able to last tonight out with this two hundred : 50 rupees Old Monk rum.100 rupees food. Ekdum perfect New Year!! and 50 rupees will be in my pocket after that…Waah savings of this year! ( I usually talk to myself when I am alone.)

Untitled

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My daughter… my sweet little daughter.
How I love this photograph. It is going to be probably my last memory of yours.
Your innocent smile, eyes tightly shut, shutting away the caterpillar ,willing it to go away from your world…
How I wish it was easy to shut things away from this precious world of ours- unpleasant unwanted things…
There is a war going on here. Tomorrow I will be sent to the front to fight. Am I afraid? Yes! I am. Afraid of losing you all. Afraid of what I might have to do there. Afraid of what might be done to me. There we are robbed of our souls and stripped of our humanity
I wish I could shut the war away by closing my eyes. But it is not easy my love.
That day I killed a militant. He was just 16 years old.
I wish I could shut away the memory of his mother crying over his dead body.
I am torn between my love and duty for my country and my own principles.
I wish I could shut away those doubts and insecurities by closing my eyes ….

And I wish most that, the next time I met you I could meet you with my eyes open and not shut.

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