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.
“Please call me as soon as possible to discuss about the book,” read the one-line mail from Radhanath Swami. I flipped out in excitement, pulled out my mobile, scrolled to his number on the contact list, and pushed the dial button.
That journey will be forever etched in my memories. With Radhanath Swami sitting next to me, I wouldn’t be in a sweat even if that plane had flown forever.
At the Netaji Shubas Chandra Bose International Airport, Kolkata, Radhanath Swami and I boarded our flight to Mumbai.
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:
