This happened in Mayapur, a village close to Kolkata. I was with Radhanath Swami as he conversed with one of his students.
With the setting of the sun, the lonely country road ahead now stretched out into the darkness. Our car stood poised on the roadside waiting to lunge into the dark night, but before we could reach it, well-wishers gathered around to dissuade us from traveling.
My new car glided over the Sea Link Bridge on to the expressway. I was privileged to be behind the wheels with Radhanath Swami as the navigator. The array of Billboards put on roadsides advertized products of all description:
As I emerged out of the haven, my blanket, into the frigid dawn, my thoughts rushed to management. Those thoughts occupied my mind during the day, and sometimes even during the night: I was the manager on this pilgrimage to the Himalayan town of Hrishikesh, and the facilities were inadequate by Mumbai standards.