The post master
When he got in and the boat was under way, and the rain_swollen river, like a stream of tears welling up from the earth, swirled and sobbed at her bows, then he felt a sort of pain at heart; the grief_stricken face of a village girl seemed to represent for him the great unspoken pervading grief of Mother Earth herself. At one time he had an impulse to go back and bring away along with him that lonesome waif, forsaken of the world. But the wind had just filled the sails, the boat had got well into the middle of the wind of the turbulent current, and already the village was left behind, and its outlying burning ground came in sight.
So the traveller, borne on the breast of the swift flowing river, consoled himself with philosophical reflections on the numberless meetings and partings going on in the world_on death, the great parting, from which none returns.
But Ratan had no philosophy. She was wandering about the post office in a flood of tears. It may be that she had still a lurking hope in some corner of heart that her Dada would return, and that is why she could not tear herself away. Alas for the foolish human heart.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
When he got in and the boat was under way, and the rain_swollen river, like a stream of tears welling up from the earth, swirled and sobbed at her bows, then he felt a sort of pain at heart; the grief_stricken face of a village girl seemed to represent for him the great unspoken pervading grief of Mother Earth herself. At one time he had an impulse to go back and bring away along with him that lonesome waif, forsaken of the world. But the wind had just filled the sails, the boat had got well into the middle of the wind of the turbulent current, and already the village was left behind, and its outlying burning ground came in sight.
So the traveller, borne on the breast of the swift flowing river, consoled himself with philosophical reflections on the numberless meetings and partings going on in the world_on death, the great parting, from which none returns.
But Ratan had no philosophy. She was wandering about the post office in a flood of tears. It may be that she had still a lurking hope in some corner of heart that her Dada would return, and that is why she could not tear herself away. Alas for the foolish human heart.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
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