My kinsman and I were returning to Calcutta from our Puja trip when we encountered an unusual man on the train. At first, judging from his dress and bearing, we mistook him for an up-country boorish man. But as soon as he began to speak, our impression changed. He discoursed on every subject with such confidence that one might think the ‘Disposer of All Things’ sought his counsel in every decision. Until then, we had been perfectly content, unaware of hidden forces shaping the world—that the Russians were advancing, that the English were pursuing secret policies, and that confusion among native chiefs had reached its peak. Our new acquaintance, however, hinted at such matters with a sly smile, remarking:
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are reported in your newspapers."
Having never traveled beyond our homes, we were struck dumb with wonder at his manner. No matter how trivial the topic, he could quote science, comment on the Vedas, or recite quatrains from Persian poets. Since we possessed no real knowledge of a theosophist, became convinced that our fellow passenger was inspired by some strange magnetism, occult power, or astral body. He listened, with devotional rapture even to the most common place remarks and secretly noted down his words. I suspect our extraordinary companion noticed this and was quietly pleased. When the train reached the junction, we gathered in the waiting room to await our connection. It was 10 p.m., and as the train was expected to be delayed owing to some fault in the lines, I spread my bed on the table and prepared to sleep. But just then, the extraordinary man began spinning a tale, and of course, I could not close my eyes all night. (307 words)
[Extracted with edits from Rabindranath Tagore’s “The Hungry Stones”]
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