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Old 01-31-2013, 06:04 AM   #374
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Join Date: Jan 2008
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Listening to a wonderful song composed by the Nawab of Awadh in 1857 when he was banished from Lucknow to Calcutta by the Brits.

My father! I'm leaving home.
The four bearers lift my doli (palanquin) (here it can also mean the four coffin bearers). I'm leaving those who were my own.
Your courtyard is now like a mountain, and the threshold, a foreign country.
I leave your house, father, I am going to my beloved.
"people can never have a fruitful argument about something thatís part of their identity" - paul graham
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