Nanda Nandan marched to the cowshed, armed with a sickle, as a crowd of onlookers smiled in approval. Rushing from one cow to another he cut open their halters. Just minutes ago, while conversing with Radhanath Swami Read more …
During a discourse, Radhanath Swami was relating the story of a saint who gave benedictions to a prince, a butcher and a monk. I sat in the front row of the audience, listening.
The prince indulged in sinful ways of enjoyment, maddened by wealth. If he were to die, only the karma of suffering awaited him. So the saint blessed the prince, “May you live forever.” Read more …
Quite some time back, I was in US for few weeks in Pittsburgh. I had learned from my friends that Radhanath Swami was in Chicago and would be readily available. I somehow managed to get the number of the place in Chicago where he was staying. And early in the morning I called him. I was ignorant that US had 3 time zones and I was calling him at an unearthly hour. Read more …
His countenance showed concern. Yet he strained a smile and requested me to accompany him. As I followed Radhanath Swami, I wondered where he was taking me.
It was a hot summer day and as we walked through the corridors of the monastery, a pleasant breeze flowed in from the nearby sea. Our march ended at the parapet of the first floor. Radhanath Swami peered down into the adjacent Laxmi Narayan Garden . Read more …
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. Read more …
From the moment I had woken up at 3:30 in the morning, I was an engine revving to go. Go, go, go! Go to Mangal Arati, go to the Mayapur Academy, go practice, go chant, go! Get everything done so that I could go hear my guru speak tonight.
Radhanath Swami had been here in Mayapur for almost a week, speaking every night to 4,000 people on the glories of Lord Chaitanya. Even though the pandal where he was speaking was only a couple hundred meters from where I was studying, I had not yet had time to spend one full night to listen. I was just so, so busy.
But tonight would be different. I was scheduling my day meticulously to leave school on time. Not only that, I was going to sit up at the very, very front and look at Maharaj’s (Radhanath Swami is affectionately addressed by his followers as Radhanath Maharaj) face the entire time! Read more …
One night in Mumbai, I got a call from Radhanath Swami. He was amidst his North American book tour, to promote the US trade release of his autobiography The Journey Home. Visiting most major cities including San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, Dallas, Houston, and Vancouver, he also gave media interviews for radio, television, newspapers and magazines. Read more …
It was a momentous occasion for Daya Rupa when Radhanath Swami asked her what services she rendered at the temple. “I maintain the garden,” she replied. Read more …
Once Radhanath Swami and his dear friend, Devamrita Swami were scheduled to give a talk on cricket. Although the world cup season was on, and most Indians were busy watching cricket, the temple courtyard was packed with thousands of youth. The audience was eagerly anticipating an exciting talk by two American monks on a sport that Indians are crazy about.
India, a land of billion plus, has an obsession with cricket; not the grasshopper you know that produces a rhythmic chirping sound. This cricket is a game played between two teams with balls and bats. Although hardly a dozen countries in the world play cricket, Indians pride in being one of the best in the world and almost every Indian is glued to his television when India plays an international game.