The Post Office
This slender play, translated by W.B. Yeats and first performed in London in 1912, contains Tagore's radical proposition: that a dying child may be more alive than all the adults around him. Amal is confined to his uncle's house, his body broken by an incurable illness, yet his mind roams freely. When a post office opens near his window, he becomes obsessed with one beautiful hope - a letter from the king. Through Amal's encounters with a watchman, a flower girl, and the world beyond his walls, Tagore constructs a meditation on freedom and captivity that defies easy interpretation. This is not tragedy in any conventional sense. It is something rarer: a work that finds transcendence not in overcoming death, but in the luminous way a child can transform even the smallest possibilities into infinite meaning. The play's radical simplicity and profound compassion have made it a touchstone for readers seeking beauty amid fragility.
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“Tell him Sudha has not forgotten him.””
— Rabindranath Tagore
“The birds looked upon me as nothing but a man, quite a trifling creature without wings”
— Rabindranath Tagore
“If only they let me, I'll go right into the dense forest where you can't find your way. And where the honey-sipping hummingbird rocks himself on the end of the thinnest branch, I will flower out as a champa.””
— Rabindranath Tagore
“Amal: It isn't sad. When they shut me in here first I felt the day was so long. Since the King's Post Office I like it more and more being indoors, and as I think I shall get a letter one day, I feel quite happy and then I don't mind being quiet and alone. I wonder if I shall make out what'll be in the King's letter?Gaffer: Even if you didn't wouldn't it be enough if it just bore your name?””
— Rabindranath Tagore
“Of course, I'm dying to be about for ever so long. I'll ask the King to find me the polar star. I must have seen it often, but I don't know exactly which it is.””
— Rabindranath Tagore
