Fried Eye Vol III Issue V

EDITORIAL Hello friends, Would I call it an omen that the issue I am invited to edit and one which I gladly accept , runs into so many technical blocks? I would certainly call them signs, but not omen nor would I consider myself marked by fate. I could never do that – self derogate and denigrate that is. Signs of struggle they are no doubt and of tough times, but no, they do not dither me.

Coming back to my being in the editorial chair, I was specifically requested to stress on how it felt or how it might feel to the women out there to be an Indian women. The double tagging did throw me off for a while for I had never thought of nor tried to think in similar lines. But yes How did it feel? Or How would it feel?

How did it feel to be born amidst cheers of “Goddess Lakshmi has arrived”? I guess, elated.

But again what if one had to listen to those snide remarks of “a daughter? They should have aborted it”?

How had I felt when my parents had proudly flaunted my achievements to envious neighbours, stressing on the fact that they were liberal people who never used to differentiate between their sons and daughters? Lucky , if I remember well.

But how would you feel if in the same breath you are forbidden to stay out late and move unescorted as because you are a girl?

How does it feel to have coaches, trains, buses specially earmarked for you? How does it feel when people are extra courteous to you just because you belong to the fairer sex? Touched!

On the other hand , how would it feel to be raped, molested, murdered and abused without any hope of justice?

How does it feel to belong to a culture and tradition that believes in respect and protection of their females ? Raksha Bandhan? The sacred vows of marriage? Proud!

And then later how does it feel to see the uglier side of the same traditions and culture? Dowry?

Honour killings? Flesh trade?

I guess in the end, all I feel is that the life of a woman is one big irony. And maybe the reason I had never ever given a thought to it (and hence had been blissfully unaware in the truest sense) was because I had always believed in the 'I' in me rather than the 'woman' within. The day when a woman believes in the 'I' in her will be the day she will be truly empowered and every day will be her day .

Keeping in mind the theme of our issue this time, we have brought before you some very interesting write ups and conversations. We have the super achiever in Sumitra Senapati , from WOW with us this issue and also have featured women who have shared their treaured experiences with us. Hope this issue brightens your coming fortnight and stirs some pleasant memories in your minds.

Cheers Miss Cellany.

Assisted by the Editorial Board – Manipadma, Radhika Baruah, Sankhya Samhita and Tinam Borah

Contents: WOW! An evening with Sumitra Senapati- Cover Story And she too is a Woman1 Phenomenal Women in Science A wedding and two generations Whitney Houston- We will always love you For Maina's Rohu, wherever you may find her Priyanka's top ten Cross Connections Chicken Ritchie Rich Only the nose knows The Wild Child Realty Shows- Redefining Reality Art by Dr Jayati Nath Nissan and The New stars of India

WOW Club-Women on Wanderlust

Sumitra Senapaty, an internationally known travel writer has seen and done just about everything.

She has kayaked the South China Sea, snorkeled Great Barrier Reef & Red Sea, sailed the waters of Seychelles & Maldives, rafted the Zanskar in Ladakh, self driven through New Zealand, cruised the Mediterranean, toured Alaska, Canada, Israel, Egypt, Turkey, France, Australia, camped out in the African bush, and much more. Getting off the 'beaten track' is an addiction and she often searches out those special things to do on each trip. Sumitra is also an avid 'foodie' and can be found checking out unusual eateries or baking her favorite brownie cake (when she's in town).

She felt that her treasure of experiences needs to be shared with other women. Her wish turns into reality with WOW Club- Women on Wanderlust, which pioneered the concept of all women travel during the summer of 2005. WOW Club makes your travel dreams come true. Its always, where have you been so far and where do you wish to go - Now pack up and come geared for WOW's memorable holidays. WOW travel calendar for 2012 includes Uzbekistan, Kashmir, Ladakh, China with Lhasa, Spain, South America, Central Europe, USA, Tanzania and much more.

This issue of Fried Eye, we bring you a short evening chit chat with Sumitra, the owner of Wow clubWomen on Wanderlust, India’s first travel club for women.

How did WOW start?

It all started seven years ago when I realized of a missed travel platform for women travelers. It was a need, important and necessary. The idea was solo. It was conceptualized in New Zealand when I met women travelers from UK. It took a year to give a thought for the start but with families support and discussion, I started the WOW club-Women on Wanderlust. The WOW was born. The first trip in India was made to Ladakh and the first international travel was made to Egypt. Every year we make thirty trips for women all around the world.

How do you define the wow at WOW club?

The trip is different. We choose a central and a safe place for tour. We give ample time for women to explore around. We believe in the idea of making the travel ‘feel the wanderer’ in them. We sometimes go for meditation, do pottery, painting or get involved in wine tasting events.

WOW knows it’s a ‘holiday’ when a woman wants. We believe in the traveler’s interest. WOW women are those who say ‘Okay, I’m out’ from their mundane and hectic routine.

Who is a women traveler in WOW club?

Women travelers do not need anybody. A friend or family member may or may not like the idea of travelling out of known groups but it’s a woman’s interest, It is they who like it and define their ‘fine interest’, ‘ idle opportunity’ to explore and be themselves. Sometimes meeting in family gathering is difficult. Instead of all family members travelling to India, some of them meet during the trip midway and make the trip a memorable family gets together. Once there were three members of family travelling from Bangalore, Ireland and Australia for spending together.

Women of all ages between 25-80 years are travelers. They are 99% professional. They bond intellectually with some common interest , they make friends for life-time. A woman traveler of WOW is someone who is ‘self-motivated’, ‘courageous’, ‘confident’, ‘enthusiastic, ’encouraging’ and ‘share certain interest’.

What tips would you like to give to women travelers?

Women must be sure of where they are travelling. They must know what they want from the destination and should be able to understand where they are headed. They must do a little bit of research by themselves before setting for a destination. Women must always travel light, be alert anytime anywhere and have self-confident.

How do you choose your destination for women travelers?

On basis of what women want. Locations must be out of ordinary. Destinations must have something unique, like rafting in Rishikesh, wellness, trekking tour as in Valley of Flowers. Uncommon destinations and unusual destinations like Jordan, Great Barrier Reef, Peru, Argentina, Brazil, Morrocco etc. We look out for destinations where women can spend time in reasonable luxury and pamper themselves, be adventurous and comfortable.

Suggest three top destinations for women

I would suggest, firstly South Africa where I prefer Cape Town, Garden Route, Krugeer and National Park Safari, secondly, Oman for safe countryside and lastly, one should not miss cruising in Greece.

Its ideal without packing and unpacking for women in ocean liners On Woman’s day Message for Wanderers – "Be Pink & Footloose! Travel well and be alert always! Choose to explore the unknown in preference to more staid destinations"

Women travelers for cruising at Greek Island

Wine Tasting in South Africa

South Africa

For more details visit http://www.wowsumitra.com/

By Sanzeeta

And She too is a WOMAN As we prepared for our current issue, a thought struck the Fried Eye desk to cover women from the faceless multitude who make the comfortable world of confident middle class women a reality. What section of the society would this be, you may ask. The maids, the ayahs, the washerwomen, the society vegetable vender, the jamadarnis, the brick laying women involved in construction sites are some of the most common faces that flash my mind as I attempt to answer this. They may not be famous but their absence even for a single day sometimes can turn one’s life completely upside down. We decided to present to you four interesting profiles of women from our daily work space as a tribute to the countless women who need to be celebrated hand in hand with the who’s who as each of us salute the spirit of womanhood this month and always.

Kamlesh, the wife of a daily wage labourer, is a resident of Majnu ka Tilla. During January to March- the flower show season in New Delhi, she assists her husband in painting pots, bricks that line up on flower beds and tree trunks. Catching up with Kamlesh in the sunny nursery of a South Delhi college as she worked was a startling revelation of the difference in the worlds of the women who lived in this one single college campus. Though a little hesitant initially, Kamlesh opened up soon enough to give me a sneaking preview of her life.

Originally from a village near Delhi (she did not name her village) Kamlesh was married off early and has since been a devoted mother and wife. “I have six children” she tells me with pride, the eldest being 22 and the youngest 8/9 years of age. Of them four are girls. Kamlesh has never heard of Women’s Day nor does she know the name of the President of India.

When asked what her idea of women’s day would be, now that she knows there is a day in celebration of women, she responded: koi bilaiti chutti hogi. (It’s probably a holiday from the West).When asked about her work schedule she replied that most of the year, she is at home. It is only in peak seasons that she accompanies her husband to work she explains.

Household duties are one’s primary duties she tells me. When asked about her dreams and aspirations, she replies “Pati aur bachcho ka pyaar hamesha rahe isse zyaada ek aurat ko kya chahiye.”(“May the love from my husband and my children remain forever with me.

What more can a woman want?”) I persisted in Hindi if there was nothing she wants over and above what she already has and after a pause she replied. “Filhal betiyo ki tension hai.

Meri teen betiyo ki shaadi ki umar ho gayi hai . Unhe settle karna hai” (Right now I have the tension of seeing my daughters settled. Three of them are of marriageable age) Remembering that she had just mentioned her eldest to be only twenty two years old, I asked her if each of them were of legally of marriageable age. She replied that that she cannot be sure of accurately as she doesn’t remember the exact year of each of their respective births. “Ho gayi hogi” (They must be) she responds while her hands deftly move to pick up another set of pots for painting.

Noticing her discomfort I turn my attention to her work and praise her skills. At which she blushes and replies that she has been doing this for close to five-six years now. Her husband, she reveals, has been employed by this college off and on for quite a few years and she has been accompanying him off late- ever since the metro lines started working to be precise.

Before the metro she did not venture too far from Majnu ka tilla. Travelling took a lot of time. Besides her children were too young to be left by themselves for long periods of time, she explains. “Abhi meri bari wali ghar ka kaam kaaj sambhalti hai isliye muje pareshani nahi hoti jyada” (Now my eldest daughter manages the household work so I don’t have too much of a problem) “Aapki bariwali sabse bari hai?( Is your eldest daughter the eldest among your children?) I ask tactfully. Kamlesh replies in the affirmative. I enquired into her daughter’s qualifications only to realise that each of her daughters have only gone to school for two or three years. “Main kabhi iskool nahi gayi hu, na hi kabhi ichcha hui jane ki” (“I have never been to a school nor have I ever desired to go to one”) she said in response to whether she has done any kind of studies. “Parhai ka kya karna, Meri bari wali sillai ka kaam karti hai. Dukaan pe bhi aur ghar pe apne se hi. Wo khaana bhi acha banati hai. Aur apni behno ko bhi seelai aur rasoi ka kaam sikhati hai.” (What help will studies bring? My eldest daughter works at a tailor’s shop and also takes her own orders at home. She cooks well. At home she trains her younger sisters in both needlework and kitchen work).

Given that this conversation was taking place in a women’s college, I asked her why it is that even after a year of working here, she has never dreamt of seeing her own daughters in

college. She tells me her own daughters were much better off. The girls I see around me are all still living on their parents’ earnings while her own have even bought their cell phones with their own money. They may not know to read and write or earn in lakhs but they have learnt to live lives with dignity. None of them begs-she points out to me. “Agar hume kuch ho jaye, wo itna kabil ban gaye hai ki khud ki zindagi izzat se jee paye. Ye baat main apni hare k beti ke liye keh sakti hu. Kya aap ye baat yaha parhti hui har larki ke bare me bol sakte ho? Meri sabse choti wali dus/gyara saal ki hogi.” (If anything was to happen to us, my daughters will be able to live a life of dignity. They have become that able. Can you say that for each student who studies here? I can say that for each of my daughters and the youngest is only ten or eleven years old.” Her response this time brought awkwardness from my end and therefore I changed the subject and asked her if would mind my taking a photograph of her. She refused to pose but was okay with a photo taken of her at work.

Ammaji is a youthful vibrant lady in her seventies. A daughter of Haryana, Ammaji has grown to become a mother to all of Zamrudpur- the urban village at the heart of South Delhi. Ammaji is popular because of her way of speaking, her philosophical take on life and her disciplinarian attitudes towards work. She can often be seen squatting on the lawns of the several education institutes that have sprung up infront of Zamrudpur in the last fifty to sixty years. She has seen them all grow like the “children” each of them nurtures. My acquaintance with Ammaji is almost a decade old, the major part of which I spent considering her as the oldest of the ladies who come to clean the lawns of my alma matter every weeding season. It was much later that I discovered more to her. Conversing with her for Fried Eye was easy because of my familiarity with her past but she good-naturedly narrated it all again.

Srimati Jaipali or Ammaji once owned seven cows, a couple of houses and some cultivation land in the once non-existent section of the city called South Delhi. She would weed grass even then because that was her cattle’s fodder and her cattle were her source of sustenance.

But soon a day came when her family along with some others had to give up their lands for the building of the educational places. “Today all I can boast of materially owning is one cow” she says “but I have not lost out on the love of the people. As I grew older they embraced me with the respectful love reserved for a mother. Not just Zamrudpur but also the institutions that came up around it” I interrupted by asking if she did not hold resentment for the encroachers of what used to be her property. Ammaji responded in the negative saying. Our time the lands were barren. “Yaha kuch aasani se ugta nahi tha...”(Nothing grew here easily) Now, she continues, the soil is more richer, here our children, our society’s future is getting cultivated. And the land has willingly turned green here. Look at all the trees she said, gesturing to her surroundings. This place has developed like a beautiful young damsel, she poetically concluded. As she brought in the comparative, I ventured to ask if Ammaji knew of Women’s Day? Of course I do she said. I am not that ignorant. I know of all the days of today’s calendar. Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Cancer Day, Aid’s Day. I know all of them though I don’t know their exact dates. But once you reach my age, if you have been a good person, wherever you go you will be treated as if it is your special day regardless of these days, she added with a smile as a gardener came in with a cup of tea for her. Just look at him, will never drink his tea without getting me a cup and I haven’t even done much work today. I don’t need a Women’s Day or a Mother’s day.

They make me feel good every day. I further enquired if Ammaji believed in women’s education and empowerment. She replied with a staunch yes. Yeh koi puchne ki baat hai, jaha dekho naari shakti ka praman milega aapko. Pratibha Patil, Sonia ji, Sheila ji, Mamta

ji... des ki politics me naari, filmo me naari, sikha me naari, humari Kalpana to brhamand pe bhi cha gayi thi (Is this a thing to ask? Wherever you look, you will see glimpses of women power. Prathibha Patil, Sonia ji, Sheila ji, Mamata ji... there are women in the country’s political scene, in films, in education, our Kalpana even shone in the universe.)

She continued: I learnt how to write my name and have the newspaper read out to me though I never went to school. I have daughters whom I managed to educate. Two of them are teachers. My granddaughters are graduates. One is doing a B. Ed.

I could not help asking how many members her family had, how much did she earn by weeding lawns and why she still worked so vigorously. She replied my daughters assist in my daily expenses; my family includes each person who calls me Ammaji, including you.

As for working, this is not work. This is my land. It has not forgotten me. It still provides grass for my one cow. I need to return the favour by keeping it weed free. And it’s a duty and attachment which will never end. “Yeh nayi ghaas jane hi nahi deti muje yaha se” (The new grass refuses to let me go away from this...”) Would she mind posing for a photograph?

“Khicho. Puri lena. Sirf shakal nahi. Is side se khicho. Photo achi ayegi light me” (Click.

Take my full profile not just the face. Take it from this side, it will come out better in the light).

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Lalmani, from Bihar, a wizened old lady, smiled shyly when we asked for an interview for our e-zine. Hesitant initially, she warmed up later as the conversation progressed. Manning a small tea stall in Indirapuram, Ghaziabad, she seemed quite at ease dealing with customers all single handedly without any help.

The shop belongs to my daughter. She confided. I sit in the shop to help her out.

She had lost her husband few years back and stayed with her daughter and son in law, her

only immediate family. Our notion about educated class and small family was busted when she revealed that she had consciously planned for a single child, irrespective of the gender so that she could take better care of the baby with the minimal resources available to her.

Though she could not fulfill her dreams of educating her daughter but she took pride of the fact that at least her daughter had succeeded at what she failed. Her three grandchildren attended the Govt School in the neighborhood regularly.

The income from the shop wasn't much. From the daily sale of around Rs. 500, she could save only around Rs 100 some days, which was not even enough to fulfill her needs, let alone dreams.

“I feel ashamed of being a burden to my daughter and son in law, but I have no other way out... she tried to justify more to herself, than us, her eyes turning slightly moist But I try to stay out of their way as much as possible.. They take good care of me, but...still."

On inquiring about the day to day problems she faced being a woman, she reacted sharply.

"It is not about being a woman, but being poor. Once upon a time in Bihar we had landed property. We used to enjoy respect too back then. But now here we always remain in fear."

What about the administration? The facilities? Was she aware of those Govt schemes for women and children, especially the girl child? About her rights?

“Yes, I have an idea that there are women friendly schemes of the Government, but I have no idea what they are and how to avail them. None of the persons we know, have a thorough knowledge about them. Nobody tells us.”

And we wondered if she had ever heard of women's day? Did it carry any meaning to inquire someone about International Women's day if she was not even aware of her rights?

Well we did try our best to educate her about the Ladli scheme, about free Govt dispensaries, education but we realized that a much stronger and focused approach was needed to create a total awareness among women such as her. A sporadic random selection would not serve much towards the cause. Still we hoped that someone was better than no one and took her leave after stuffing her as much as possible about information of some of the facilities and welfare schemes that were easily available.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The rendezvous with Sakeena, a maid from the neighborhood of Ghaziabad was an altogether a different and interesting experience. Sharp and alert, she literally bombarded us with questions, CBI style, to gauge our intentions before relenting for a photograph and a quick chit chat.

"You cannot trust anyone nowadays. I was almost about to be whisked away by the police when one of my previous landlady had committed suicide, so now adays I remain alert. about what goes around" Mother of five children, she was aware enough about the need for a small family and was trying to incorporate that ideology in her eldest daughter's (who is married) mind. Her eldest daughter was married off early, but she had taken it upon herself to educate her other two

daughters along with her sons. She was hesitant to share with us her dreams and aspirations and just smiled mysteriously. But her smile said it all. It was the smile of a person who was confident of fulfilling her dreams. Her smile said that she had planned well. A little bit of prodding revealed that she had opened accounts in the post office and was saving for her children's future.

Did her husband agree with her progressive views and plans?

It did take time for him to trust her opinion, she had replied , but in the end he had conceded the decision making powers to her.

“But of course I never do anything without asking or discussing with him" When We inquired this fiesty lady of the trials and tribulations she faced on being a women, she revealed that the freedom she enjoyed here was absent when she was in their village .

Opinions were not asked. Decisions were taken by the males or the elders.And though everybody lived in a harmony, it was possible maybe because only few had decision making powers, hence a lesser chance of discords. Things changed for the better only after they migrated to the city.

She was aware of some of the facilities available like free health care, maternal health and childbirth, free education and mid day meal schemes but she was not aware of the monetary benefits that were attached to sterilisation operation and hospital delivery. We gladly complied with the information , which she attentively noted down .

Surprisingly she did not seem much interested about knowing about the rights of a female.

“As long as I have the basic amenities of food, shelter, clothing and am being treated justly, I do not much care about my limits and legal rights. These are for the bade log" “Mahila Divas?”

And she had giggled uncontrollably. What does it matter, she replied once she sobered down.

Yes what did it matter indeed? Especially who enjoyed only the fringe benefits of the society?

Did it really matter to the persons to whom it should have really mattered at the first place?

Fried Eye Research Team

Phenomenal

Here we are again.

We are back to another day devoted to odes being sung to their courage and patience; to their tenacity and perseverance; to their indomitability and resilience.

Yes, Women’s Day is here.

There will again be a cacophony of strident voices- some belligerent; some reasonable; some thoughtful. The blog-sphere will again be flooded with a plethora of posts. It will again turn into a feast.

Once the crescendo is over, women will go back to their uncelebrated lives. They will again resume chipping bits off their soul to fit into their designated slots. They will again go back to their unvoiced despair; the despair that whispers to them, reminding them of their inadequacies, deriding them for their effort to BE.

The world that is proud to devote one day to lauding them is the same world which teaches them to be subdued and reticent. It teaches them to accept second place. It pours down their unwilling throats the realization that unless they accept that place they have no place at all. It rubs into their consciousness the fact that the justice of a fair chance will never be for them. What amazes me is that they accept it. The few that protest are ‘disciplined’ into acceptance by those who have already accepted that second place. Women, in case you didn’t notice, are a self-governed body. They know how to punish their rebels and they do it effectively. If one could dispassionately and objectively study one’s own execution, one would say the process is beautiful in its perfection.

It is interesting to find out how this is perfect programming is implemented. It works flawlessly with no supervision and no tweaking required. One admires the precision and thoroughness of an operation which is seamlessly spontaneous and ostensibly nondeliberate. Superlatives fail to express one’s wonder at this phenomenon.

It is evil to murder a man but imagine the evil of selling him suicide as an act of virtue..!

Yet this is how the infernal machine works. Women are sold the idea of a second place

as an unalterable benchmark of virtue. They then spend their lives trying to beat each other in this race to virtuosity. All the world needs to be is to throw them a Women’s Day once a year. What could be more perfect than that?

I re- read this poem each time I need a reminder of who I am. I also read it every Women’s Day. To get the full impact of this awesome piece, click on the title and hear Maya Angelou recite this in her vibrant voice. I promise you, this is one click you will cherish. I do.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size But when I start to tell them, They think I'm telling lies.

I say, It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman, That's me.

I walk into a room Just as cool as you please, And to a man, The fellows stand or Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me, A hive of honey bees.

I say, It's the fire in my eyes, And the flash of my teeth, The swing in my waist, And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman, That's me.

Men themselves have wondered What they see in me.

They try so much But they can't touch My inner mystery.

When I try to show them They say they still can't see.

I say, It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style.

I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman, That's me.

Now you understand Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing It ought to make you proud.

I say, It's in the click of my heels, The bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, The need of my care, 'Cause I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman, That's me.

Maya Angelou

If you heard Maya Angelou recite this poem, did you hear the note of pride in her voice?

Did you feel the ‘sun of her smile’ warming your heart? Did her ‘not talking real loud’ fill you quietly with serene confidence?

To me, this poem is the key to silencing the storm of lacerating questions that rise in me each year this day. To me, true celebration of women is to have women KNOW this poem as a truth that runs in their veins.

The day women know themselves to be phenomenal will perhaps be the day we will have

celebrated Women’s Day. That is the day they will say: Phenomenal Woman, That’s ME..!

By Dagny Sol

Women In Science Manjil P. Saikia Department of Mathematical Sciences, Tezpur University, Napaam, Pin-784028, Assam, India

Science like many other domains of human intellect and strength have been stereotyped as predominantly a male affair. But is that perception really valid? Of hand, if you are asked to name a female scientist, you will have to think a bit and then maybe you can name Marie Curie. But what if I ask you to name two lady scientists?

Then most of us will be at a loss to do so. Because, to be honest we are not even aware of any other name apart from Curie. As a matter of fact, it has been noticed that even science graduates cannot correctly tell the name of more than one female scientists let alone name even one female mathematician. This approach to the study of science has not only hindered the progress but also it has tyoecast the profession as a 'male subject'.

The study of history will reveal that there has been many women who have rose to the highest levels of scientific excellence and apptitude. Right from the ancient days

of Troy to the new age modern marvels, there are female scientists who have done as much for the furtherment of the subject as their male counterparts. In this present article when we say science we shall be including mathematics too although as a math major I think that math should be kept in a aseparate pedastal. Here, we give a brief profile about a few female scientist who have done remarkable things and about whom people should know more about. We leave names like Curie who are already quite popular. The list that we present here is in no way exhaustive and we leave many names without mentiuoning much about them.

Dorothy Mary Hodgkin was a British chemist, credited with the development of protein crystallography. She advanced the technique of X-ray crystallography, a method used to determine the three dimensional structures of biomolecules. Among her most influential discoveries are the confirmation of the structure of penicillin that Ernst Boris Chain had previously surmised, and then the structure of vitamin B12, for which she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry.

In 1969, after 35 years of work and five years after winning the Nobel Prize, Hodgkin was able to decipher the structure of insulin. X-ray crystallography became a widely used tool and was critical in later determining the structures of many biological molecules such as DNA where knowledge of structure is critical to an understanding of function. She is regarded as one of the pioneer scientists in the field of X-ray crystallography studies of biomolecules.

Amalie Emmy Noether was an influential German mathematician known for her groundbreaking contributions to abstract algebra and theoretical physics. Described

by Albert Einstein, Hermann Weyl, Norbert Wiener and others as the most important woman in the history of mathematics, she revolutionized the theories of rings, fields, and algebras. In physics, Noether's theorem explains the fundamental connection between symmetry and conservation laws.

Hypatia was a Greek Neoplatonist philosopher in Roman Egypt who was the first notable woman in mathematics. As head of the Platonist school at Alexandria, she also taught philosophy and astronomy.

As a Neoplatonist philosopher, she belonged to the mathematic tradition of the Academy of Athens, as represented by Eudoxus of Cnidus; she was of the intellectual school of the 3rd century thinker Plotinus, which encouraged logic and mathematical study in place of empirical enquiry and strongly encouraged law in place of nature.

Hypatia lived in Roman Egypt, and was murdered by a Christian mob which accused her of causing religious turmoil.

Ingrid Daubechies is a Belgian physicist and mathematician. She was between 2004 and 2011 the William R. Kenan Jr. Professor in the mathematics and applied

mathematics departments at Princeton University. In January 2011 she moved to Duke University as a Professor in mathematics. She is the first woman president of the International Mathematical Union (2011–2014). She is best known for her work with wavelets in image compression.

We have mentioned only four names, two of them from the last century, one still living and one from antiquity. Much of their life's works have been pathbreaking, except perhaps Hypatia's. Still, Hypatia's life shows us how inhuman torture on genius can echo even from the depths of history. Her tragic death is worth mentioning here. Hypatia was murdered in public by people in power. She was striped naked, paraded before the public and then butchered to death. Thus ended the life of the woman generally considered to be the first female mathematcian.

This examples are just some from the many that are available, but I am sure that these will help us remove the male chauvinistic approach that we take towards women in science.

A Wedding and Two Generations

8May, 1979, 8 pm.

All of a sudden she realizes something is missing, but cannot place what is that.

The marriage reception is in peak. Invitees are being served Dalda fried luchi, mixed vegetable, sweet chutney, curd and sweets. She is sitting in front of the ‘morol’ decorated with a beautiful butterfly ‘rangoli’ with one long mirror at the back and four plantain saplings at its four corners . The previous day the boys worked till midnight to make it. And what luck! They had not even reached their own houses when there was a violent storm. It was difficult to save the ‘rabha’ from damage as tin sheets were flying away from the roof and the heavy shower was creating water pools here and there. But the ‘maral’ was spared from nature’s rage as someone quickly covered it with a big bamboo basket. And now sitting in front of it, tired of smiling at each guest, she is wondering when all this will be over and she can straighten her back. The ladies sitting on floor mats near her are chatting and laughing, children running around playing their own games and she can see her busy family members moving in and out taking care so that everything went smoothly. Her friends, some of them coming from her home town Dibrugarh traveling six hours by bus and three hours by ferry, are surrounding her. The previous evening while bathing her in the ‘bei’ they sang ‘biya naam’ teasing not only her but all her siblings and sisters-in-law. She has three brothers and one sister, two sisters-in-law. This is her third brother’s house. They are holding the marriage here in Tezpur because the groom stays in the same town.

The matchmaking was by her colleague Bela ‘baideo’ one year ago. This one year they had written letters to each other regularly. She has taken the bundle carefully along with the other things she is taking to her new home. How will the new home be? Will she be able to make it a happy home?

“Ena, will you have a glass of milk?” Ma is there to look after her as always. Looking at her mother she feels a pang in her heart. After tonight she won’t belong to the ‘Bhuyan’ family anymore. Only memories… With the word memory, she has a sudden flash of what she’s missing. She had asked her “Majuda” to arrange for a photographer. But there is no sign of him. She sends for her brother. After ten minutes he comes. “Where is the photographer? I asked you specially to arrange for one.” Majuda says that the photographer was supposed to come. “I don’t know what is wrong” he says. “Please do something” she pleads. She knows that this brother of hers cannot say ‘no’ to her. He has always tried his best to make her happy.

Majuda is in a paramilitary service and has to attend different training courses in different places. Wherever he goes he brings things for her. Last month he went to Indore and from there he brought a shining set of stainless steel utensils, her name engraved in each piece.

Her friend Mainu got two pairs of embroidered ‘mekhela sador’ from Calcutta. Her sister has gifted her a sewing machine. Juthika baideo has crocheted a beautiful shawl for her. She bought her main set from Guwahati. She felt very happy that day when she went for shopping in Guwahati, with her ‘Mami’.

Yesterday throughout ‘Jurun’ she continued weeping and Phulu bou’s cousin who dressed her up was continually whispering in her ear not to cry lest the kajal would be smudged. She does not understand even now why she had cried so much. She should be happy.

She is missing her father. He could not come so far because of his illness. She had always had long discussions and debate with him. She thinks of how he had helped her in preparing

speeches. When will she be able to talk to him next?

Mou bou takes her inside. There are very few guests left. It is time for the groom to come.

Just now someone coming from groom’s place said they are getting ready to come. So the ‘rabha’ has to be rearranged for the marriage ceremony. Her friends are making her ready for the marriage. Majuda enters the room triumphantly announcing he has brought a photographer. She gets excited. Thank God her wishes will be fulfilled! But what is this?

Majuda is explaining to the people in the room that today in Tezpur there are more than twenty five marriages; no photographer is free; and the one he has somehow motivated to come has only three snaps left in his camera reel; and he cannot wait till the groom comes.

She has only three black and white photos of her marriage. That too without her husband.

7th, October 2011, 10 pm The grand hall is almost empty, except for a few groups of people, huddled up chatting and killing time till the groom arrives. She forgets for a while she is the bride. Her friends and juniors from the university surround her and they are all having a good laugh. Someone hands her a red rose that had fallen off from her bouquet. She takes the stem between her teeth and strikes a dramatic pose for one of the boys fiddling with his camera phone. “Ooh Sam, what are you trying to do here?” one of them giggles.

She suddenly sees her mother across the hall. Mamma looks tired, and worried. She wonders if her mother’s had any food and then remembers that because she is in a fast and so is her father, her mother had decided to go without food the whole day as well. She listens to one of her brothers sing paeans of the wedding buffet. “I had dinner thrice, mind you! The duck was awesome, and so was the chicken, the prawns and mutton” He rubs his belly to emphasize. She wonders how big a dent this whole dinner must have made in her Deuta’s pocket. She had told him it was maybe a little too much, but Deuta had insisted.

This is the last wedding in the family after all.

She notices a few men dressed in traditional Assamese dhoti and kurta, each with a turban on their hand, and she wonders what they are doing here. She looks at her mother smiling mysteriously from far away and beckons Mamma near her with her eyes. “You know what these men are here for?” Mamma asks. She shakes her head, and Mamma replies, “This is a Gayon-Bayon group. They are here to welcome the groom party from the Mahabhairab

Mandir to the wedding hall”. Her eyes widen in surprise. While the previous night, her parents had arranged for a “Likiri Ojah” team brought in from Mangaldoi and a local Bihu team to perform in her “Sangeet”, the Gayon-Bayon group is the icing on top of the already massive cake. She looks at her mother and in that one look, tries to convey just how grateful she is for everything.

Her father has changed into pator Punjabi and dhoti and has also wrapped a pator seleng, to perform the ritual of kanyadaan. She had always thought her father looked so dignified in that dress. Mamma suddenly says, “It’s time. Go get changed to your bridal dress” eliciting another “Oooo…” from her friends. Her Bou accompanies her inside and she changes into the gorgeous set of white and golden pator mekhela sador that her mother-in-law had gifted to her previously during the Jurun. Before she is done sticking the big red bindi on her forehead she hears someone saying “They’re here!”

She rushes outside her room to catch a glimpse of the groom party from the top of the building. They’ve brought fireworks from Barpeta that light up the balmy October sky. Ah, their names are burning in the sky now, she smiles. She finally sees her “dora” and realizes that photographers from both the groom side and the bride’s side are shoving each other to get better photos of the groom and everything that’s happening. Her Bou finally pulls her inside the room to get her ready.

A week later, around midnight at her husband’s home, the doorbell rings and her husband invites two men inside. These men hand over two sets of DVDs and two huge albums of the wedding photographs to her husband. He calls her to take a look at them. Aah, there they are. Their whole wedding, captured in 800 snapshots and four hours of video photography.

She already has two sets of DVDs from her side, and another such album is lying at her parent’s house.

“How do I choose the best ones to upload on Facebook?” she wails.

Two generations. Two weddings. Thirty two years in between. Little did the bride in 1979 know she would be reliving her daughter’s marriage in 2011, again and again, laughing and crying each time she watched her daughter’s wedding video. And those three photographs?

Scanned and stored forever in her laptop. One of these days she might just upload one of them to her Facebook timeline herself.

By Leepika Saharia and Sankhya Samhita- The duo

Whitney Houston: We will always love you: Neena had a smile on her face but tears welled up in her eyes. As she wound up the nth screening of The Body Guard with her friends, I could but sit there and wonder about the amazing effect the lady on the screen had on this bunch of fierce and workaholic ladies. A simple movie with a very familiar storyline could be made this interesting was in itself an interesting fact. Ladies and gentlemen, the lady in the feature film, with amazing acting and singing talents: Whitney Houston.

Born Whitney Elizabeth Houston, on Aug 9th 1963, in the middle class neighbourhood of Newark, New Jersey, Whitney went on to be the most awarded female acts of all times.

With guidance from her Gospel singer mother, she was influenced by music from an early age. By the age of 11, she was already performing in the church and growing constantly under the expert guidance of Aretha Franklin, who also happened to be her honorary aunt.

Early teenage years saw Whitney accompanying her mother to various clubs where she got her first opportunity to perform for the public. While growing into her music career, Whitney also tried her hand at modelling. Her lithe frame and very distinct girl-next-door looks got her the laurel of being the first black woman to be featured on the cover of Seventeen. By now a backup singer for Lou Rawls and Jermaine Jackson, Whitney was already on the road to musical fame. While fortune awaited her as the most sought after teen model of the times.

After dealing with infinite delays and coping with initial failure, Whitney released her first self titled album in February 1985. Though starting with a lukewarm response, the album saw smashing success after a whole year after its release. With praises raining in from critics and fans alike, Whitney Houston stayed on the Billboard top 200 for a full 14 consecutive weeks. The album became an international hit going 13x platinum. Whitney Houston gathered the singer a total of seven American Music awards, a MTV video Music award and a Grammy nomination. The album till date is finds it place in Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of all times and is considered one of the top 25 breakthroughs by USA Today.

Her second album, Whitney released in 1987 carried forward her legacy of success by going multi platinum and winning her a slew of awards including a Grammy. The release of successive albums would see the nascent singer mature and break almost all existing records. The iconic The Bodyguard with a simple storyline but stellar performances by

Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, became a resounding success. The soundtrack of the movie is considered the biggest selling album by a female act of all times. Buoyed by the success of The Bodyguard, in the late 90s, Houston acted in more light scripted movies and also sang on the soundtracks. The Preacher’s Wife, received a lukewarm response at the box office but the soundtrack went on to become the largest selling gospel album of all times.

By the end of the Millennium, however, the singing sensation was fading. Marred by personal problems and suspected drug abuse, Whitney was ready to release a Greatest Hits album. Her marriage to singer Bobby Brown was full of controversies and soon Whitney would be labelled the Bad Girl of the music world.

The next decade would see the star being erased completely from the memories of music fans. Whitney, the multi talented singer-actress, had disappeared in the dark fog of drug induced hallucinations. Whitney Houston was over and out.

But just as the world was ready to write her off, the fighter that she was, Whitney decided to make a final comeback to what she did best-sing. Supposedly rehabilitated and looking fresh and healthy, the iconic singer was over her problems with Bobby Brown. A comeback tour was in place and everything seemed set for one of the biggest comebacks of the decade.

Alas, on Feb 11, 2012, Whitney Houston, with her fantastic voice, musical and acting talents, her simple but charming looks and a slew of records, was found dead in her room at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. Keeping alive the legacy of the big names of famous musicians, Whitney passed away her immensely popular voice and her famous talents to the power of drugs. One of the most influential singer and actress of the times, who broke more records than any other female singer ever, was gone in a jiffy. The singer who every budding singer considered an idol and whose comeback was more anticipated than perhaps the rarest stellar phenomenon left the world with nothing more than memories, unforgettable songs and a mention in perhaps every award function ever.

Whitney Houston was not just a singer or an actress but also an activist and an advocate against apartheid and black rights. Rising from a sheer middle class background, Whitney stood for every word in her most popular cover, I’m every woman. Whitney Houston will always serve to be an inspiration for every aspiring singer and actor ever. Every fan would no doubt agree when I say, I will always love you.

By Vinayak Gole

For Maina’s Rohu , wherever you may find her

Maina is an empty womb tonight, all turquoise waters have dried up, she must be an eastern princess with a tail sailing southwards, slender eyes, broad waisted , scaly with captive bones, She clings bold to the spirits free, some of them come flying like the mystical predatory birds.

Wet and wild, Medussa is her angel. Maina has hailstone like fins, dancing in the Pagladia waters, Everyday is Bihu , everymorning she dips her Gaam-khaaru in the holiness of tributaries. Five years before, she had found her companion Rohu slithering in gaiety .

(Perhaps she could rebuild a swimmer in me..)

“Why don’t you take me home ? A fish can be a mermaid , a wonder, a best friend ..”.

Their shadows could cast ripples as far as eight kilometers away. They are no goddesses. Instead, they are masters of their swimming-growns. They drown in themselves, as if gulping the whole of Brahmaputra ; you cannot forfeit their unconditional abyss, or verbalise what is irretrievably lost, the love of a hermaphrodite, rubbing her neck against mine , like an eagle. *

*

*

“ I was going to kill my heroine.

But I've changed my mind. I fear I may have to kill someone else, instead..” *

*

*

It was a fine cry of a schoolmaster’s daughter, that day , torn and fragmented, (Like everyday, they manicure millions of her) The fishermen beneath the banks were trying to trade Rohu’s flesh , as Maina walked back from the Govt. School, three neighbouring boys of her age scorned at her uncombed , squalid hair which had an outrageous ribbon attached to its side.

“Pull her hair ! Look at the whore’s drenched petticoat, it stinks like fountain-ink “!

Rohu detested aquariums in fallopian tubes, these are modern days, empowering days , Her gynaecologist channelized the eggs everytime and charged her a tourist-fee,

But , aren’t her ovaries heroes sunk in a bloodless sea…?

“Why didn’t you squeeze her tongue when she said you are an ugly cyst , you aint conceive no more ..”, I asked.

Rohu is not manly or ladylike, her uterus is androgynous, so is her beauty ..she takes you to an anonymous universe , you become empyreal .

Hark !, the petrified sound of the bloody pubescent fields , As you pass by the caged chick-peas planted there, Do you know why they flutter ?

The night crunches and crackles , most of the goldflake cigarettes refuse to catch fire, you know.

The cold is so indifferent to fire that is lit through the window..

They say summer is round the corner, the sweat , the sultry sanitary napkins, the joy of being nobody surpasses the heat of young days..Rohu would've certainly loved a puff.

Pradip Da , one of the shrewd fisherman , by the ferry ghat at Machkhowa , slaughters Rohu every dawn into slices..

“Get the lighter , Maina ? Its right under the square table , green in colour . There , Be careful ..!

("....Bortaa , your caterpillar is blossoming every passing day, you better be cautious now , the way she treads into youth , her golden hair , her hellenic smile might violate those gabhoru ideals in the books ,we make her read. If her pen becomes the ladder, you never know where she goes..”)

The other day, Rohu’s corpse was found lying beside the banks of Pagladia, the very waters she made love to, the four quarters of her mind have been under repressive westward currents . She left no letters for her best friend.

“I will rise from the dead like Lady Lazarus, I will eat them like vultures “ , I engraved with dark purple on her epitaph.

“Where is the lighter , Maina ….. ? How lazy you are , You should listen to your elders , that’s what our mothers taught us ” Pradip Da yelled out loud .

Years later, Maina will stain her petticoats, deep blue , She will write in blasphemous reds, Ooze out smoke and river; Butcher the sheathes of Rohu’s killers Maina won’t give them the lighters..

______________________________________

1. "I was going to kill my heroine ...": From Michael Cunnigham's The Hours (Voice of Virginia Woolf) 2....Lady Lazarus is an echo from Sylvia Plath's poem by the same name.

[Themes: Fish/woman/flesh trajectory, patriarchy , pressures of mothering, critique of menstrual taboos , the identites of both species collapse by the end, both of them are heroines, alter-egoes actually. [C.f : Virginia woolf's choice to kill Septimus in her novel and not Clarissa Dalloway]

by Rini Barman

Lady Shri Ram College

Priyanka's Top 10 Gadgets for Girls/ Women Women rule the world. It’s not just me who says it but the entire world today agrees with the statement. Women have progressed miles today and they also carry a role towards the development of the world. Beginning her day from household works, cooking meals, looking after her family and children to managing her office works, supporting her friends and colleagues and earning an income, the woman of today can perform any kind of task that doesn’t make her stand beyond anymore. Even in this era of technology, women took a huge leap where she can understand and operate all kinds of devices. Today in this Women’s Special edition of Fried Eye, I am proud to present a collection of gadgets those are especially built for women.

1. Russian Doll Earbuds

These cute looking trendy earphones are compatible with any devices such as mp3 players, laptops, portable gaming systems, etc.

Price: $9.90 (Amazon); ` 2,164/- (Ebay) Buy Russian Doll Earbuds Amazon link Ebay link

2. Hello Kitty Nerd MIMOBOT USB Flash Drive (8 GB)

Flash drive with a nerdy look wearing black spectacles and a red bow in her forehead. Especially studious and intellectual women will definitely like it. Hello Kitty Nerd flash drive is available in sizes 8 GB, 16 GB, 32 GB and 64 GB. Price: $34.95- $119.95 Buy Hello Kitty Nerd MIMOBOT USB Flash Drive Mimoco link: Mimoco link

3. Sony Ebook Reader Pocket Edition (Pink)

Since pink is associated with girls, Sony’s Pink Ebook Reader will be a great choice for bookworms. This pocket sized reader weighs light and can store upto 350 ebooks. It has ebook library software for Mac and PC and has 5� screen display.

Price: $132.29 (Amazon); `12,798/- (Rediff) Buy Sony Ebook Reader Pocket Edition (Pink) Amazon link Rediff link

4. iRobot Roomba

Tired of cleaning the floor everyday? Then get this perfect floor cleaner called Roomba. Roomba helps cleaning your floor dust, pet hair and dirt. Also it can clean your furniture, carpet, tiles and walls with its advanced vacuum cleaning technology.

Price range: $349.99- $599.99 Buy iRobot Roomba Store iRobot link

5. Sony Vaio E Series

This colorful range by Sony Vaio looks vibrant and gorgeous. Available in various screen sizes and colors, you can select your favorite one from the series. Colors available in E series are Black, White, Blue, Pink, and Green, all in glossy look. Key features include Bluetooth, WiFi, HDMI for viewing in HDTV, home theatre, Intel Core i5 processor and Windows 7.

Price range: `36,990/-- `57,990/Buy Sony Vaio E Series Flipkart link

6. Chocolate Wired Keyboard

This keyboard with a chocolaty look will work on your pc and laptop.

Price: `600/Buy Chocolate Wired Keyboard Gadgets.in link

7. DuoFertility Monitor

For married women, the DuoFertility Monitor is a great aid when you are planning for a pregnancy.

The monitor helps you to get pregnant naturally by tracking your body basal temperature through

which it can identify your last ovulation and shows you the best time to have intercourse. The device also provides you software to connect on your Mac/ PC so that you can read your reports into a graph. The monitor is worn under your arm with the aid of a specifically designed armband.

Price: ÂŁ495 (available in various colors) Buy DuoFertility Monitor link

8. Micromax Bling 2

This gorgeous looking fashionable smartphone by Micromax is an ultimate choice for girls. Bling 2 is a touchscreen smartphone running on Android 2.2 (Froyo), consisting of 3 MP camera, 150 MB internal memory expandable upto 32 GB with microSD card, Gprs, 3G, Wifi and Bluetooth connectivity.

Price: `6200/Buy Micromax Bling 2 Flipkart link

9. Philips HP8600 Hair Curler (Purple)

Love to play with your hair? Philips HP8600 Hair Curler is a hassle free hair curling machine that gives your hair a bouncy and stylish look. The tool gives your hair 32 mm tong heating upto a temperature level of 180 degree Celsius.

Price: `1117/Buy Philips HP8600 Hair Curler (Purple)

Infibeam link

10.

Apple iPod Nano

Last but not the least is the small and trendy looking Apple iPod Nano. Available in multiple vibrant colors, the iPod Nano is very compact and perfect mp3 player for girls. iPod Nano is available in two sizes- 8 GB and 16 GB. Price:` 8699/Buy Apple iPod Nano Infibeam link

By Priyanka Bhowmick

CROSS CONNECTIONS Ah, women! They are called the “weaker sex” and yet they carry the biggest responsibility of all: childbirth. They are expected to keep a good home, and take care of everybody, and yet are berated for “not doing something” about their career. They are to be gentle and motherly, and yet responsible for maintaining discipline in the house. And most of all, when they get married, they are expected to simply pack up and leave the houses they were brought up in, to go live in some different household altogether.

While the concept of a nuclear family is quite the trend now, there was a time when a married woman’s biggest nightmare was to invite the wrath of the Mother-In-Law. Gone are the days when girls were brought up in villages, and married off to some guy in the same village, and sasural and maika were at a stone’s throw from each other. Women travel cross-countries to be with their husbands now. And sometimes, when they are marrying into a family that has a different culture altogether, they mold themselves to fit into it.

Meet Mani Padma and Kavita Saharia, two women who have successfully molded themselves to fit into their husband’s family post marriage. While Mani Padma is an Assamese woman married into a North Indian family, Kavita is a Kumaoni woman married into an Assamese family. Was it an easy thing to do? Were there difficulties? How has their cultural differences affected their married life? Read on to know more…

Here’s Kavita’s side of the story: As much I loved my Kumauniroots, living in Assam I also had deep fascination for North East culture .As a small kid I was encouraged by my parents to appreciate and learn good things about other cultures .My family had many local friends ,we actively participated in local festivals and other cultural activities .Going to see Assamese theatres ,Bhaonas ,Bihu competitions was a regular thing for us .

I first met my husband in Dental College. When we finally decided to get married the toughest task was to break the news to our families. “Reconsider your decision" was a common advice that both of us received .After some initial hiccups and hesitation both the families agreed to meet and pleasantly it was 'love at first sight ' for both .I don't remember a single instance where our families had any slightest disagreement over any issue. We got married in a mixed style. I wore a mekhelasador for Jurun ceremony .On the wedding day the groom came dressed up in Assamese traditional attire while I wore a Kumauni style ghagra -pichauda .We saw the best of both the sides’ .Our wedding ceremony was a unique one, family and friends still talk about it fondly.

The fun of differences started right from the day of marriage at vidai which is the time for the bride to leave her house. Usually vidai is an emotional moment as the bride's family and friends bid her a teary farewell. My parents announced to my relatives that as per Assamese tradition post vidai the bride comes back to her parent's house in two hours after performing certain rituals at groom's house .I still remember the huge laughter of everyone present there when one of my aunt asked, “to hum royenge kab" ?(So when do we cry?) Our married life started with a very positive note which gave me a great mental boost and confidence.

My new family made it a point to make my initial days as comfortable as possible. Everyone was extra helpful and understanding. I was raised in a family where sons and daughters were treated equally and luckily my new family too followed the same trend. I found a great friend in Ma, my mother-in-law. If I ever felt little anxious about anything just a reassuring looking from her relaxed me. You can never know everything about a culture even if you spend a life time learning it. The first lunch at home in itself was a revelation. Meals were elaborate with at least six to seven different dishes .Except for Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, non-vegetarian food, specially fish was cooked. Fish used to be everywhere, in daal, in green vegetables, in khar, in tenga and sometimes in chutneys too .I always got my vegetarian shares but could not help noticing fish eyes floating on plates of people sitting in front of me at dining table. Soon I took over breakfast preparation where whole family would gather around me to see my chapattis pop up over gas flame.

Some of the junior members clapped at every roti. That used to be funny and sweet. Till today every morning we eat a typical north Indian breakfast. I also introduced different varieties of legumes in our meals and slowly learnt most of the basic Assamese dishes. I don’t often do it but can scale and cut a fish into pieces with no problem if required. Many of my Assamese relatives now keep chapattis wrapped in a cotton cloth to maintain its softness after seeing me do it.

On my parent’s advice I made a special effort to learn the language .I made a fool of myself a lot but most of the time everyone around maintained a normal face no matter how funny the situation was. One morning I heard my younger sister in law say to my mother in law, “Mur xeuta heraise, bisaripuwanai” meaning I lost my xeuta and can’t find it .I assumed that she lost something like her hair clip or comb as she was getting ready to go to the college so in my attempt to help her I started to look for “xeuta” everywhere; on the floor, under the bed, in drawers. Perplexed, my mother in law asked me what I was looking for and I told her that I was looking for xeuta .Soon I was told that xeuta meant hair parting .We still laugh at that incident. As mentioned earlier my new family’s non

vegetarian food consumption amazed and overwhelmed me. To pull my leg, my brother in law would purposely share some false scary stories like how sometimes they catch birds and small animals to eat .Once a beautiful mynah got trapped in our living room and all the kids and few of grownups ran around the living room trying to catch her .I heard them shout ,”Dhor dhor, aami puhim “ and I translated it as “Catch it catch it, we will eat it “.It was too much for me; my heart melted for the bird and I shouted in broken Hindi, “Hum tumko isko puhne nahi dega “ which I thought meant I will not let you eat it. Soon I was reassured by my mother-in-law that the word puhim meant “keep as pet “ and this time they could not control and everybody was on floor laughing including me. The mynah took full advantage of the situation and flew away.

I speak fluent Assamese now and still try to learn new words every day. My folks have now improved Hindi .My kids are fluent in both the languages .They now understand that their parents come from different cultures .They love getting pampered by their Nani (my mom) and all other relatives on our annual visits to Delhi. My daughter likes her fish tenga with matar pulaw while my son loves his parathas with Assamese style daal .We try to celebrate all Assamese as well Kumauni festivals. Both the families attend important functions at each other’s. In last seventeen years I have learnt a lot about Assamese traditions and culture and continue to do so.It all was smooth for me because of constant support of my dear parents and my husband and mother in law All along it has been my decision and no pressure from my husband and in laws. Learning a new culture has not diluted my love and belief in my roots nor have I lost my identity.

And here’s Mani Padma’s side of the story: A friend of mine, a male, had once commented that in contrast to how lament about it being tough to leave home and become the 'bahu' of another house, it is tougher to accept a stranger in one's house than going to a strange home to be one of them. Well I didn't argue because I really had no idea how it felt to have a stranger at your house and maybe he did have a point. But moving in with some strangers and sharing your life forever with them in a strange house hold did seem...strange.

Isn't that the story of every girl in a traditional Indian family? And the 'strange' element multiplies if you are marrying into a family which is completely different and extreme in your spectral range of customs and tradition.

As an Assamese girl married to a North Indian family, life was certainly one big adventure after marriage. The events leading to the marriage was no less than the drama of Two States by Chetan Bhagat while the wedding itself was a bigger melodrama, but that is another story left to some other

day. In my case the fun doubled after marriage when I had to take up post of second command in the kitchen In my first week there I burnt everything on sight. The food was different and so were the utensils, which were totally not in sync with me. A rice eater like me had to convert to a roti maker. The rotis were such that my husband seriously started thinking of selling them at subsidized rates to the Indian army to serve the purpose of bullet proof vests. Even the rice which took just minutes to be cooked back home now took just seconds to turn to charcoal.

The dal was such that the Dead Sea would float in it; so high was the salt content. I became surer by the day that it wouldn't be long before I would be kicked out gracefully. But something happened; something nice happened to smoothen out things. Mamaji and his family were visiting us, especially to meet me as an introductory gesture. My Ma-in-law had sadly shaken her head and asked my husband to order some food from outside. It was then, that my husband did something unpredictable. I still remember him saying to my Ma-in-law, “She will cook. She can. She has cooked before.” No frills. These were the exact words. I still remember them as these were the same words which in a very filmy manner boosted my confidence and yes, I did prepare lunch that day.

Mattar Paneer and chilli mushroom which turned out beautifully well with the right amount of masala and gravy and rarely had I gone wrong since then. Not the roti of course. No amount of pep talk could correct them. It’s only after seven years of marriage, that I have reached that level with the rotis where you can eat them without the fear of your teeth falling off due to the effort.

After being brought up with the regularity of pink masur dal, being introduced to the sheer variety of dal that was available there was completely confusing. Which one to put in a rajma? Which one in khichdi? In fact even now I need five minutes of steady meditation .to sort out my confusions about the variety of dal before proceeding to prepare it.

I still remember the time when I had to prepare khichdi for my father in law, in which the split moong dal is used. As can be expected I confused it with the urad dal, and I think I created history of sorts by preparing khichdi with Urad dal (which is a total no-no at my in-laws).

My husband calmly but sadly looked at it and said,”Yeh daddy ke liye kya banaya, Blacky bhi nahi khayegi isse toh”: ( What have you cooked ? Even Blacky our pet dog won't be able to eat it).I was beet root with shame and hurriedly prepared the 'right' khichdi (thankfully), but what do you know, Blacky did eat the khichdi and that too with relish!

Well, though kitchen was tough for me to manage, I had an easy run at other quarters. Brought up on a steady diet of Bollywood stuff, what used to scare me most was the thought of waking up early and doing a 'Bhor Bhaye Panchi' a la the quintisssential Bollywood ideal elder bahu who leaves the bed at the crow of the rooster and washes, cleans, bathes and waters the tulsi while singing a melodious bhajan. Now that would have been real difficult for me, being brought up in a very nonspiritual non-traditional manner, but nothing of that sort happened. Rules were quite flexible with just one ground rule- “The breakfast should be ready before your man wakes up” which was fine with me as my husband was a very late riser. In fact, I think, that he knows the sun rises in the east is just from the books. Not witnessed it. He used to mostly have night duties and the few day duties that would come our way was manageable. So 'Bhor Bhaye Panchi' was a myth much to my advantage.

But it wasn't a bad experience when I first came face to face with the traditional aspects. I was speechless with delight at the grandeur of Diwali- the lights, shopping, gifting, ceremonies, the kathas, aarti and the pujas totally awed me. Starting from the Navaratras and Dusshera till Diwali, the month long period used to be one big party. Karwa Chauth was another experience. None of the filmy melodrama with me of course, but what struck me was the level of self control that one had to practise. It was not only devotion to one's spouse, but a determination which said, “I will not allow any harm to befall on my husband”. At least the alpha female in me used to look at it that way. Ahoi Ashtami or the fast for the children was one such experience that caught me totally unawares the first time. Just four days after Karwa Chauth, it is another fast as rigid as the Karwa Chauth. After the fast of the Navaratras, just few days before and after the Karwa chauth and Ahoi ashtami, one just develops a kind of fear psychosis about eating anything. The first thing that comes to your mind

when you stretch out your hand unmindfully for something to eat is – 'Oh My God, now was I on fast? Am I on fast today?” And this lasts well after Diwali. But no complaints really. At the end of the day when the family sits together for the special dinner amidst easy banter and silly jokes, it becomes worth all the trouble just to see everybody happy and together.

I don’t know how tough it was for them to incorporate an alien like me being amidst them but my transition from an Assamese girl to a North Indian daughter-in-law was an interesting journey in itself and one which is still evolving. Of course I have had my share of sulking and grumbling (whoever doesn’t?) but so have I had my share of giggles, dance in the streets of Jaipur complete with a band baaja in a relative's wedding (something that I had vowed never to do before marriage but sigh! Such is life),long chats and bonding with my young nanads and nieces. I have had my share of silly tiffs and at the same time did I enjoy the compliments and love from my extended family. Being from Assam had never been a disadvantage, rather everyone had welcomed the fact that their newest member was from a distant beautiful land and had eagerly inquired of me about how it was over there. Their eagerness to know more used to be so contagious. When they mentioned Bhupen Hazarika and Pat or Muga silk, I was pleasantly surprised. Every now and then I receive requests from my cousin in laws to take them on a trip to Assam and I hope to God, some day I might be able to bring all of them over here to have a glimpse of where I used to belong long time ago before becoming one of them.

By Sankhya Samhita- The Sutradhar Kavita Saharia- The Koina Manipadma- The Dulhan

Chicken Ritchie Rich I chose this recipe over many recipes for a reason; I wanted a different flavour for our readers.

Although this is a recipe from Nita Mehta as ‘Dum Murg Kali Mirch’, I tried it out to test and taste.

I liked it – it was different!. I’m writing elaborately wherever I thought some explanation was needed and would benefit you. I did not modify it but yes I did take concern on the consistency of the gravy and aroma of black pepper not to dominate the dish completely.

Celebrate Woman’s day !

Ingredients 1. Half kg of chicken cut into 7/8 pieces 2. 3-4 green cardamoms 3. 2 tablespoon oils. You can go for a half spoon more too 4. 2 medium sized onions. Finely chop them in short slender translucent 5. 1 table spoon freshly pounded black pepper. Do not make into powder 6. ½ cup of toned milk Paste 1. 8-10 cashewnuts 2. ½ cup yogurt 3. ½ tsp red chili powder 4. Salt to taste 5. 1/2 tsp garam masala powder 6. ½” of ginger and 8-10 flakes of garlic. If the garlic pods are large sized, 6-7 would be fine Preparation 1. Grind cashewnuts, yogurt, ginger, red chili powder, garam masala, salt, and garlic in a mixer into a fine paste and keep it aside 2. With a fork poke into the chicken pieces lightly so that the flavors run deeply 3. In a micro-proof vessel (a concave bowl would be advisable), put oil, finely chopped onions and green cardamom. Cardamoms can be gently crushed coarse so that aroma flows out.

Mix them and micro-wave for 8 minutes. After 8 minutes the onions become golden crispy with rich cardamom aroma 4. Mix the chicken pieces into the paste and mix well thoroughly. Microwave for 8 minutes.

5. Add milk and 1/2 cup of water (avoid making it watery). Mix well and sprinkle freshly grounded black pepper. Microwave for about 6 minutes and take out. Mix well and stir well.

If you feel that it is still not done, microwave for another 2-4 minutes for a thick consistency 6. Sprinkle freshly grounded black peppers (optional) and serve hot.

The richness of cashew – yogurt with the black pepper corn really lifts the chicken curry.

Enjoy with basmati rice with ghee flavour in it

Chicken Ritchie Rich Written by Sanzeeta

Photo by Sanzeeta

Only The Nose Knows

As the gate clashed behind them, a voice cried from a window‌ "Girls, girls! Have you both got nice pocket handkerchiefs?"

"Yes, yes, spandy nice, and Meg has cologne on hers," cried Jo, adding with a laugh as they went on, "I do believe Marmee would ask that if we were all running away from an earthquake."

"It is one of her aristocratic tastes, and quite proper, for a real lady is always known by neat boots, gloves, and handkerchief," replied Meg, who had a good many little 'aristocratic tastes' of her own.

~Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

I must have been around nine when I first read this, and at that time I really had no idea why boots

and gloves and handkerchiefs were so important for a woman to be "a real lady". Where I am from, boots were something that we saw people on TV wear, gloves were those thick woolen ones Grandma knit for us during cold winters, and handkerchief was that little white lacy thing Mom pinned to our blouses on our way to school. By the time I was sixteen, and had read Little Women for like a hundred times and some more, all I knew was I wanted to be a real lady too. Words like etiquette and grooming started sounding appealing, and while boots and gloves and kerchiefs didn't quite fit in my scheme of things, a neatly wrapped sari here, a pretty pair of sandals there, certainly did. But most of all, I realized that the one thing in common with all the women I admired was that they always smelled nice. And that's where my fixation with good smells started.

I am deliberately staying away from the word "perfume" because truth be told, it wasn't until I was much older than I'd like to admit that I was officially introduced to perfumes. Until then, it was "scent" that came in glass bottles, or Mom's deodorants that I was sometimes allowed to wear. And ascending from there to the world of eau de toilettes and eau de parfums, and of beautiful bottles that are as important as the juice they carried, has been quite a revelation.

The best thing I like about perfumes? That they are varied, just like a woman's many roles. And even as we drift from mood to mood, one moment a mother and the very next moment a daughter, one moment all grave and somber and the very next childlike, there's always a perfume that'll speak just the right words to us. So, while you might read a number of things like top notes and heart notes and base notes and day wear and night wear and synthetic and natural and other perfume jargons in websites dedicated for the sheer purpose of reviewing and rating perfumes, I don't quite relate to perfumes in that "technical" language. Because for me, a perfume is so much more than that. It was one of my luxurious dreams to have a huge collection of ridiculously expensive perfumes in their glittering bottles on my dressing table, and while I am no where near that, I do have my own small world of olfactory delights. A world where everything is nice and sunny when I want it to be, or feminine and sexy, or somber and classy when I feel like it. And while I am no perfume expert, I can sure give you a glimpse into what it is to be passionate (sometimes illogically!) about perfumes enough to want to write poetry about them. You see, I have my own way of categorizing perfumes and that might not be quite the conventional way of saying "aqua", or "fruit-based" or "musk-sandalwood based" or whatever, but well, whatever works, eh?

My "happy-go-lucky" perfume: Now these are perfumes that yell out "sunny!" to me. And maybe only I know how much I need to hear that, specially now that I live in a place which remains gray and gloomy for the whole of the winter. These are the perfumes I wear when I am feeling particularly down, and need an instant pick-me-up. In my world, the happy-go-lucky perfume in Clarins' Eau de Jardins. If you search for this on the net, it would probably tell you this perfume is citrusy, and has definite floral and wood notes, and that it is something to wear in the summer. I wear it in the dead middle of winter when it is wet and chilly, and then I keep sniffing my wrists over and over again to remind me that spring, after all is not far away. It lasts for a really long time in my skin, and I love the way the smell lingers inside my wardrobe!

My "I-am-sexy" perfume: Okay, here's an honest confession. I do a lot of research on the net each time I want to buy a perfume, but in the end when I am actually in the shop, I am usually just trusting my nose to guide me to the right one. And I am telling you this because I had actually Googled "sexiest perfumes" and sniffed almost everything I could find off various lists, but nothing really worked. What did work, however (and still does) is the perfume my sister gifted me for my wedding. My brother-in-law's exact words were, "This is the kind of smell I would love to keep sniffing on a woman". Davidoff's Echo might not be the out and out "sexy" perfume (most of them have heavy accents of musk, sandalwood, patchouli and the likes) but the extremely feminine and powdery feel of it does work equally well for me. Afterall, isn't part of feeling sexy realizing that you have this magical feminine power inside you?

My "I-am-chic" perfume: This one really has much more significance now that I am a married woman than it had before. Calvin Klein's In2U For Her is probably a very famous name, and is one of the perfumes I had bought without actually sniffing it (more like asked my then fiancĂŠ to get it for me). Given how this perfume is actually targeted for the "techno-sexual generation", it actually does make me want to walk with a little spring in my step, just as it boosts the flippant side of me.

Even though I used to wear it all the time as a single woman, I wear it now to remind myself I can still feel carefree and cheeky if I want to! The smell has its own way of registering itself inside your mind, and while my husband thinks it smells a bit like an AC market which sells oranges, for me it is the smell of long walks through waist high grass wearing a long frilly skirt that trails behind me and a large hat that I toss off to feel the sun on my face. So what if I have never done this? I am quite sure the day I do is I will wear this perfume only!

My "Meh-it's-a-Monday" perfume: While some women have one distinct perfume that they love to

wear, kind of like a "signature", most of us like to have an array of perfumes we can choose from.

And yet there are days when picking and choosing can get quite arduous, given how we take so many factors into consideration. My go-to perfume for those days is Playboy's Play It Lovely, which I had very impulsively picked up from the Singapore airport because it was the cheapest perfume in the duty-free shop. I later discovered the entire range: Play it Sexy, Play it Spicy and Play it Lovely is available in any decent department store and not necessarily from a perfume shop, and yet it didn't change the fact that for me it is quite special. And it is special because of its versatility. The scent is supposed to appease the flirty side of a woman, but I have worn it on dates and shopping sprees with equal gusto. There is fruit accents and floral accents and a deep seated patchouli and amber accent, all combined in the perfume, and maybe that's one reason why I don't associate it with just one mood. And just in case Play it Lovely doesn't quite make the mark, I have a small bottle of Burberry Brit Sheer sitting on my shelf. This perfume is quite "optimistic" without being overpowering, and I love the sheer humility with which it accepts itself as a part of the skin and not as a separate entity. At the end of a long day, all that remains of this perfume on my skin is a subtle reminder of it, even though it still makes me feel good to sniff it off my wrists.

My "I-love-being-a-woman" perfume: While until a few months back this was Revlon's Love Her Madly, what with its amazingly beautiful powdery pink scents (are you thinking Pond's Dreamflower too?) now it is hands down Mont Blanc's Souls and Senses. I've had this gorgeous thing with me for quite many years now, and I still never get over how instantly the perfume changes the way I feel about myself! Souls and Senses is all about the clean and the crisp and the fresh, which I somehow associate with my idea of a perfectly groomed woman. One who never perspires, but only "glows". One who never has a single strand of hair out of place from her neat bun. One whose kohl never smudges. And even though I have clammy hands all summer, every day is a bad hair day for me, and I end each day looking like a raccoon (does smudge-proof kohl even exist?) Souls and Senses is my illusion of being a perfect woman.

My "I-am-dying-to-chill-out" perfume: This one's a recent addition, really. And one that couldn't have made an entry in my life at a better time. Elizabeth Arden's 5th Avenue After Five is quite self explanatory really, and yet I like to wear it during my long days of teacher training when I am far from chilling out. I can't seem to keep up with any of my perfume's expectation, really. If I am supposed to wear it in the summer, I wear it in the winter. If I am supposed to wear it in the evening, I wear it during the day to remind myself of the evening. And now that a week seems to last forever and the weekend couldn't come any faster, After Five is my way of escaping into Saturday evening dates and brightly lit streets and a romantic walk on our way back home.

So well, just like the same woman plays different roles in her life, the same perfume can mean so many different things to different people! Goes to show you can never know until your nose knows, eh? I am kind of disregarding the fact that this kind of makes my lengthy rambling pointless as well, but before you can figure it out, I leave you to discover your own scents. Let your nose guide you, because you see, only the nose knows!

By Sankhya Samhita

The Wild-child

She's the love child often scorned Bereft of ties She eats alone She returns home early morn To no dear face or voice familiar With broad-mindedness enough to shame She's slept with a dozen men She's trapped in a labyrinth of trance Indifferent, she sways to a psychedelic dance She's the hippy with the tousled mane A bohemian rhapsody who snorts cocaine In the revving Royal Enfield she veers away Into an off-beat track Her smoky eyes reveal she's sloshed And tonight she begs for no love

All she yearns for is a trip and a puff !

By the Aimless Drifter

Reality Shows: redefining REALITY

I used to be a person who couldn’t resist glaring at the idiot box all day long. The USP during childhood was cartoons, as I entered my teens it changed to Mtv and as I progressed to adolescence I wish I could say something but this viral phenomena that has plagued every channel….yes! you guessed it! Reality shows- they were responsible for my break up with my TV set. I can’t even begin to tell you my undying hatred for this television show format that has ruined my television experience. Whichever channel you flip on, be it a music channel, a Hindi or English entertainment channel, a travel & tourism based channel…there you have it! A glamorous handsome host with those eager, puppy eyes, enthusiastic, ready to make fools of themselves on national television participants!

I have nothing against talented people getting a platform to prove their talents, but what really ticks me off is the whole concept of faking emotions, difficulties, etc that ensures high TRP rates. Let’s begin with singing or dance based reality shows. Shouldn’t these shows be about how the participants learn through their journey and get recognition for their amazing talents?But no, we have to add in a little emotional story about a participant’s poor economic condition (even if it’s embarrassing for him) not with the noble intention of making people applaud his talent despite a financial crunch but we need the audiences to connect with the contestant and feel his pain..is this a reality show or a K-serial on Indian TV? The elimination of a contestant, I understand is a painful experience for the contestant, but even if the contestant is willing to leave on a positive note, they play that dramatic sad tune from funeral scenes of old Hindi movies. The most effective way to garner high TRPs however, is violence; proved from the popularity of shows like Big Boss and Roadies in India. A few tempers flare, a vocabulary of desi abuses introduced to the audiences(for no rhyme or reason), an uppercut here, a punch knocking you out back there….put in a little more abusing…you get the idea!

I can understand why people participate in the above mentioned shows, the money factor is irresistible and who cares if you make a fool of yourself on national television, 1 year later on the next season of the show audiences will forget your face as there are new clowns to entertain. But What I fail to comprehend is, why do people participate in shows like- Splitsvilla, Cheaters, Emotional Atyachaar, Swayamvar, Big switch, and Sach ka Sammna ? Why would one want to display their love life, family drama for the whole nation to see? Thus, I don’t think twice to conclude that most of these shows are pre-scripted. The crocodile tears, the expressions of shock, fear, surprise, anger, betrayal so beautifully executed! Another annoying thing about the reality show trend is most of the Indian reality show formats are badly copied American shows; whatever happened to originality and creativity? Today, we have reality shows for anything and everythingbest bathroom singer, best celebrity couple managing babies, best bully, celebrity who can live a village life, hubby who can manage without wife, Bingo nights, etc…

I would like to conclude that I have nothing against reality shows, I believe they in some way fulfil a common person’s dream of winning a big ticket to fame or coming on TV. Unfortunately, I also believe in Santa Claus, Bloody Mary,

leprechauns and their pots of gold‌.. I’m sure you get my point! But yes, honestly, I believe a show format different from the usual fiction is essential for entertainment but it must have a sensible format and purpose‌ a lot of the reality that it apparently promises!

By Laveena Iyer

Art by Dr Jayati Nath

Nissan and the New Star of India.

We are often advised 'to think out of the box' at home. At work by our friends, spouse...In fact thinking out of the box has become the new mantra for creative success. But how much are we successful in doing so? Falling in line and taking off on somebody else's footsteps is an easier option.

Recently a mail to us forced us to sit up and take notice of its contents as it advertised its project to be the first Bollywood movie to be auditioned in Facebook. Now didn't that sound like a totally out of box idea. The mail was from Nissan, the Auto giants of India and the project was New Star of India. New Star of India is actually a campaign based on Bollywood and it has all the ingredients of a masala movie like, song, dance, drama and action add to it the star power of Ranbir Kapoor(who incidentally is another new star of India) all packed in a five mins duration, directed by renowned Choreographer Ahmad Khan. Hence in a way it can be called a Bollywood movie rather than a usual ad film due to its wholesomeness. What makes it more unique and interesting are the firsts that are associated with it.

But first you would like to know more about what New Star of India is all about.

As their spokesman Yuvraj puts it, Nissan had created ‘New Star of India’ - the world’s first Bollywood movie auditioned on Facebook. All across India movie enthusiasts auditioned for an opportunity to act alongside Bollywood heart throb Ranbir Kapoor. From well over 2500 hopefuls, 20 were chosen to be in this groundbreaking movie.

The campaign started off in October on Facebook, and has gathered over 4, 60,000 fans. Participants were given the opportunity to show off their dancing skills by recording a short video and uploading it to www.facebook.com/nissanindia. Winners were decided on the basis of public votes and finally shortlisted on expert opinion from Ranbir Kapoor and director/choreographer Ahmed Khan.

The filming for this ambitious project was carried out at Ramoji film city at Hyderabad with several Nissan Micra’s and a cast and crew of over 600 people – one of the largest productions seen in Ramoji.

The excitement did not end here. Nissan ensured that all those who participated and did not win, were not disappointed. Some were given surprise cameo roles and fans were able to participate in the film production process at www.facebook.com/nissanindia

The film is now ready for a red carpet release at Mumbai very soon (Nissan is also giving away a Micra signed by Ranbir to any one lucky fan who has booked a test drive through their Facebook app.) which is a first again, for a promotional campaign.

That brings us to the the firsts that are associated with the project, which are:It is the first Bollywood movie to be auditioned in Facebook. Now that is what we would call taking Social media into another dimension It is the first time that Bollywood and Automobiles have been spoken of together.

The format of participation was kept at its simplest so that everyday middle class youngsters get the opportunity of a lifetime- to star along side Ranbir Kapoor. All the enthusiastic participant had to do was log in his/her Facebook account and upload a video for public voting. No quizzes, no phone calls, no long queue, no televised dramas either. Public voting was carried out on Facebook to arrive at winners...out of 2500+ entries, 100 selected on basis of public votes. Out of these 100, 20 best entries selected by Ranbir and Ahmed Khan. You might find it heartening to know Stella Chongtham, who is a winner in the top twenties, is from North East studying in Delhi University.

The promotion is massive, and so is the response to it. Nissan is carrying out some cool and easy contests in their fan page for better participation and interaction by the fans, so that they can keep a tab on their first hand reaction and feedbacks.

We in Fried Eye will be rolling out a few easy contests in our fried eye fan page based on the New Star of India project in which we will be distributing T shirts sponsored by Nissan as prizes. Well contest is not an 'out of box idea' for fun, but fun again doesn't need one either. So hope you have an enjoyable moment reading about the NSOI and taking part in the contests.

Fried Eye