As I waited outside to have a last word with him, I wondered what Radhanath Swami was still doing in his room: his luggage was already out and a chauffeured car waited for him at the gates. He was returning to Mumbai after a three day spiritual retreat, which had just concluded with his discourse to a crowd of three thousand in the idyllic lawns of Mafatlal Bungalow.
Impatience took me over, and I slightly pushed open the unbolted door, to have a peep.I was stunned—Radhanath Swami was going around picking up scraps strewn on the floor. As I tried to close the door again, it creaked, inviting Radhanath Swami’s inquisitive glance. When he saw me, he called me in. Then, as if explaining his action, he said, “We should vacate the room cleaner than what it was when we first occupied it.”
His civic sense apart, I was enthralled by his simplicity. But for my impatience, neither me, nor the three thousand people waiting outside to see him off, nor anyone else on the planet—except for God—would have ever known what he was doing behind those closed doors—and yet he delighted in that menial service.
Dr. Ashok Shetty
Dermatology consultant , Bhaktivedanta Hospital