Radhanath Swami’s room in the Radhagopinath Ashram, on that day, felt like the hollow of a scanning machine. What was scanned?—my mind, which had been for a while bristling with innumerable misconceptions—some related to philosophy and others to temple management. Who was the doctor?—Radhanath Swami, who diagnosed every wrong idea cooped in my skull and spelled out its folly.
How was all this happening? After all, these were the thoughts that bounced secretly—just between me and my mind.
“How did you know what thoughts I had been harboring?” I asked Radhanath Swami.
“By observing you. Simply through observation I understand many things. In fact, I learnt the basics of my spiritual life simply by observing the Ganges,” he replied.
The air of mystery about his last statement was somewhat cleared-off years later, when I read his autobiography, The Journey Home. There he speaks in some detail of the times he spent on a rock amid the River Ganges.
Krishna Das (name changed on request.)