I loved my Swamiji, even when externally he did not appear happy. I knew that internally he was always all right, surrendered to guru and Krishna and feeling transcendental bliss. He appeared to tolerate old age and disease, but in actuality he had a spiritualized body. It was always wrong to judge him as an ordinary man. He took deep pleasure and satisfaction in creating new followers for Lord Caitanya. He never tired of his routine of kirtana and lecture, and neither did his disciples. There was always something new, something deepening in the process and in the relationship. He was situated far above us, but he patiently fed us the nectar of Vedic topics and helped us gradually advance from our novice status.
The devotees tried to prepare a beautiful sitting place with pillows and upholstery, and he fit into it perfectly, fulfilling the role of Founder-Acarya. He played the karatalas expertly, and the devotees’ hearts rang with joy. They were completely respectful and submissive to him, and he commanded this, he didn’t demand it. A crowded temple room full of devotees watched his every move, and some of them thought he was looking at them only. This was a phenomenon that regularly occurred. In fact, his eyes roamed throughout the room to each and every soul.
They knew they were fortunate to be in his presence and their hearts and minds went out to him, just wishing to be accepted as his student and servant. In the somber visage of Swamiji, he controlled all those devotees who were fortunate enough to attend this occasion and surrender to him[ meditations ]