My attention was gone. I was looking past her, down the path into the woods. There was something there that was not a tree. It was a statue, a bronze bust, head and shoulders, bearded, Rabindranath Tagore waiting for us.

 

"I do not put my faith in institutions," the plaque read, "but in individuals all over the world who think clearly, feel nobly and act rightly. They are the channels of moral truth."

 

A single garland of threaded marigolds was respectfully draped around his neck, slowly dried by the gentle forest sun. Tagore was calling.

 

"It's Saint Rabi of the Rainforest," I whispered.