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The train proceeded on its way. Mr. Bhutt would always travel in the attendant’s booth whenever he was travelling with Shri Nathji. He would enter Shri Nathji’s compartment at every stop and enquire after his comfort.
As the train wound its way through the vegetation, the trees and bushes and the landscape of Maharashtra, Shri Nathji heard the particles of Nature speak to him:
“Aap phir aaye! Aap phir aaye! Swaagatam! Swaagatam! You have come again! You have come again! Salutations! Salutations!”
It was as if Shri Nathji were passing across a land he had trodden upon centuries hence; it was as if he were returning home after ages, and each and every particle was rejoicing in his re­turn.

Ai khushaan roz ki aayiyo basad naaz aayi
Behijaabaanaa sue maihfile maa baaz aayi!

O what a day of joy shall be the day when Thou shalt come of Thyself, in all Thy Glory,
Unveiled, and in the direction of my house, when Thou shalt come again!

Shri Nathji got up from his seat and looked out of the window. The vibrant song of welcome rang in his ears. He felt a kinship with the land and its denizens.
Could dead matter speak with a hidden tongue? Could the leaves and the stones have a voice of their own? Shri Nathji would say:
Books in the running brooks
And sermons in stones.
Every atom in the world has something to narrate, something to convey to the atoms around it. There is no language that communicates between a magnet and an iron, but there is a recognition, a spontaneous relationship.
The particles of earth were blessed by the human form of God upon earth. They knew that such an event rarely occurred, and they had waited for centuries and centuries for this time in the 20th century, when God was to walk the earth again in human form as he had done in the past.