First, in the early nineties, my wife and I took to bhakti yoga. Then our parents and brothers followed suit. With Radhanath Swami as our friend, philosopher and guide, bhakti grew more pleasing and exciting with every passing day. Soon, we ached for bhakti to fill our very lives, and in our enthusiasm sought Radhanath Swami’s guidance for almost anything. And lovingly, he always obliged.
Recently I arranged for a get-together of Radhanath Swami and our big bhakti family at my residence. But before it all began, we parents pleaded for peace, and taking pity on us, our brigade of kids marched to the terrace, a floor above. Their destination was wisely chosen. The concrete slab of the terrace was too thick for their shrieks to penetrate through; and they numbered only fifteen, too less to bring the slab down.
After the get-together, as Radhanath Swami stood to leave, the brigade marched down, and then to where we stood. Gauridas, my nephew, took it upon himself to introduce his comrades to Radhanath Swami. “This is Gandharvika, this is Rasika, this is Gopika, this is Balgovind, this is Jayananda …” Radhanath Swami heard all the names. Then, with a teasing smile, he told Gauridas, “Thank you Gauridas. But let me tell you something. It is I who gave all of them their names.”
Everyone exploded into laughter. I remembered how we had sought his guidance while even naming our kids. And every time he gave a name, there was the warm feeling that Radhanath Swami was all ours. Mysteriously, I have heard from many that they too feel the same—that Radhanath Swami is all theirs!
My conclusion: It’s a characteristic of God that he can be personal with everyone, and by his grace his devotees can also display a fragment of that potency.