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Tazzy at
tashuq78@gmail.com
I'm a self-absorbed Bengali-Torontonian; Fish comes to me raw, wrappend in seaweed, not cooked in curry; I love watching thunderstorms and rain; Sad endings make more sense to me than happy ones; I hate empty walls.
In the News
Craving of the week- Dark Chocolate
Reading List- Midnight's Children
Movie review(out of 5)- 127 hours- *****
Buried- ****
That Girl in Yellow Boots- **
Love of the week- Seeing James Franco
Aim for the weekend- Watch 'Going Postal' The Movie
Finally I found the English translation of one of my favourite Tagore poems.
THE SONG THAT I CAME TO SING
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.
The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only
there is the agony of wishing in my heart.
The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only I have
heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.
The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor; but the
lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house.
I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.
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