It was 9:00 p.m., time to call it a day at the monastery. Spotting Radhanath Swami taking a casual stroll through the ashram corridors, some of us surrounded him. On such occasions our discussions were more informal, and Radhanath Swami often spoke of his personal life: his childhood, his travels in search for the truth, his realizations while staying in an austere monastery on a mountain in North America, and the adventures of his outreach programs. These intimate talks charmed the monks even more than the transcendental philosophy and drew us affectionately to him.
On the last day of my editing service for Radhanath Swami, he went through the draft that I had written about the glorious service of Hanuman to Lord Rama. After refining it, he called me to have a look at it. In his own inimitably sweet and humble way, he asked me, as he had asked often during the last fortnight, “Is that good?”
As I read the changed draft, I marveled at how the text seemed to have come alive. Radhanath Swami’s excellence at descriptive writing has few parallels; he is a genius at describing events and emotions,