Diary of a Traveling Monk

Volume 15, Chapter 29
February 10, 2025

A year ago, I began experiencing weakness in my legs, accompanied by occasional shooting pain. I felt the condition was worsening, so I underwent an MRI scan during a visit to Skopje, Macedonia. When the results came back, the doctors were visibly concerned.

“You have absolute spinal stenosis in the L4-L5 lumbar region of your spine,” they informed me.

It sounded serious, but I had no idea what it meant. “Could you explain this in simple terms?” I asked.

“In the lower part of your back, your spinal nerves are severely compressed,” they explained. “This condition presents in older patients, and in most cases, it causes severe pain. You seem to be an exception, as your pain is intermittent.”

Surprised, I asked, “What do you recommend I do?”

The doctor replied, “You can try conventional therapies, but your condition is quite advanced, and I don’t see it improving on its own. I strongly recommend surgery as soon as possible. We have several experts who can perform the procedure.”

Uncomfortable with the idea of surgery and the risks involved, I declined and instead consulted a physiotherapist in India. I followed a regimen of exercises for some time, but my efforts brought almost no relief. Desperate for a solution, I spent a month at a well-reputed Ayurvedic clinic in Kerala, but that too failed to improve my condition. Frustrated, I pushed the issue to the back of my mind. Then last month the pain in my lower back and legs became unbearable.

Realizing the urgency of my situation, I travelled to Delhi where I was fortunate to meet one of India’s foremost neurosurgeons. Despite his busy schedule, he arranged to operate on me just a few days later, on January 16.

“We will perform a routine two-hour decompression surgery on your L4-L5 vertebrae. You should be fine,” he assured me.

However, once the neurosurgeon began the procedure, he discovered that my condition was significantly more advanced and complicated than a recent MRI had revealed. The surgery extended to four hours as his team worked meticulously, installing several permanent metal fixtures to support my spine.

I spent five days recovering in the hospital. When discharging me, the doctor advised me to stay in Delhi for a few weeks, just in case I needed follow-up care. My disciples arranged accommodations for me in a nearby hotel with special facilities, where I began the painful post-operative healing process.

Yet, more difficult than the physical pain was the agony of inactivity, especially my inability to travel and preach. I had to cancel my engagements, including a pilgrimage to this year’s six-week Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj. This was not just any Kumbh Mela, but the grand one that occurs only once every 144 years! From my hotel bed, I watched online as millions of pilgrims bathed at the sacred Triveni Sangam—the confluence of the Ganges, Yamuna, and Sarasvati Rivers. Most of all, I lamented missing the opportunity to meet and network with India’s prominent spiritual leaders, as I had done in 2019 at the last Kumbh Mela.

Another significant event I was missing was the grand opening of ISKCON’s Kharghar temple near Mumbai. This extraordinary temple was years in the making, and I had been invited as a special guest. The occasion also provided a potential opportunity for me to meet India’s Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, who was to be the chief guest of honour. On the day of the opening, as I lay in bed recovering, I watched online as the Prime Minister delivered a powerful speech, endorsing both the temple and ISKCON’s service to society.

“I am missing so much!” I murmured to myself.

Two weeks later, in the evening, just as I was about to turn off the lights and settle into bed, my disciple Kartamashi dasa called.

“Srila Gurudeva,” he said, “I just dropped off some fruit for you at the hotel reception when I noticed a large event being set up. The receptionist told me that the daughter of a prominent government minister is hosting a wedding reception here tonight. She even mentioned that Prime Minister Narendra Modi might attend! Maybe you should come downstairs and meet some influential people.”

“It’s late, Kartamashi,” I replied. “Besides, I doubt they’d allow me into a private function. And I find it hard to believe that the Prime Minister would attend a wedding reception in downtown Delhi at this hour. Earlier today, I saw photos of him bathing at the Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj. That’s 700 kilometres away!”

“Alright, Gurudeva. I just wanted to let you know. Goodnight.”

But as I settled back into bed, I mulled over what I had said to Kartamashi. “Maybe I should go downstairs,” I thought. “Even if I don’t get into the reception, I might meet someone significant in the lobby.”

Immediately, doubt crept in. “No, it’s a long shot. Besides, I’m tired, and still dealing with pain.”

Then, just as I was about to drift off, a firm conviction arose in my heart. “No. I should do this for Srila Prabhupada. You never know what Krishna has in store.”

Determined, I got up and quickly dressed in a dhoti for the first time since my surgery. I applied tilak, draped a chaddar over my shoulders, and searched my room for a copy of the Bhagavad-gita As It Is to give to a distinguished guest I might encounter. Unable to find one at that moment, I settled for a few fresh copies of my newly released book, Adventures of a Travelling Monk, published by Harper Collins.

At the very least,” I thought, “if someone gets this book, they’ll appreciate how, by Srila Prabhupada’s grace, our movement is spreading worldwide.”

When I reached the lobby, I was surprised to find it completely deserted. I approached the receptionist.

“I heard there’s an important event. Where is everyone?” I asked.

“The police and army have sealed off the hotel for the next three hours. The daughter of a government minister is having her wedding reception here,” she replied. “Prime Minister Narendra Modi will be arriving in an hour.”

“The Prime Minister is actually coming?” I asked, astonished.

“Yes, that’s why security is so tight. Just look outside.”

Peering through the window, I saw armed police officers stationed everywhere. In the distance, I spotted three military tanks, two buses full of soldiers in black combat gear, and snipers on the rooftops of nearby buildings.

“Well, that settles it,” I thought. “The Prime Minister will be here.”

“Is there any chance I could attend the function?” I asked the receptionist.

“Unlikely,” she said. “Even the hotel staff have been told to keep our distance. The attendees are all government officials, dignitaries, and wealthy VIPs. Everyone is dressed in formal attire.”

“Oh well,” I thought. “At least I tried.”

As I turned to leave, a well-dressed man approached me.

“Are you from ISKCON?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” I replied. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from New York,” he said. “But I visited your temple in Los Angeles when I was there on business. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said.

“Are you attending the reception?” he asked.

“Well, no,” I admitted. “I recently underwent surgery and I’m recovering in this hotel. But when I heard about the event, I thought I’d come down in the hope of meeting someone influential. Ideally, I’d love to meet the Prime Minister and present him with one of my books.”

“Well, if you’re interested,” he said, “you can accompany me. I have an extra invitation. My friend was supposed to join me, but he couldn’t make it. I’m sure the hosts would appreciate your presence. You can bless the couple.”

“Really?” I said, surprised. “Thank you!”

With a playful grin, he added, “Who knows, maybe you’ll even get lucky and meet the Prime Minister!”

“Maybe, just maybe,” I replied.

As we stepped out of the hotel’s main entrance, all eyes immediately turned toward us, no doubt because of the contrast between my flowing saffron sannyasa robes and the formal evening attire everyone else was wearing. My companion presented our invitations, and after a strict security check, we were allowed inside.

The reception was grand. People conversed in small groups with drinks in their hands. A live band played soft music on a small stage in one corner. Taking in the elegant atmosphere, my companion pointed to an elevated platform where the newlyweds stood greeting a long line of guests.

“You wait here,” he said. “I’ll go and see if you can meet them and offer your blessings.”

Smiling, I replied, “Alright. We’ve come this far. Let’s see what happens.”

I watched, surprised, as he went straight to the front of the line and spoke with the couple. He gestured for me to come forward.

I walked slowly, not wanting to draw too much attention. As I passed by a long queue of guests holding wrapped gifts, I approached the couple. At first, they seemed slightly startled to see me.

Introducing myself, I said, “I am a sannyasi from the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, and I wanted to offer my blessings for your marriage.”

To my surprise, the bride turned to her husband and said excitedly, “Isn’t this wonderful? This was exactly what was missing!”

She warmly accepted a copy of my book. “I’m sure my father, a government minister, will enjoy reading this as well!” she said.

“Everything is going so nicely,” I thought, as I rejoined the crowd. “Maybe, just maybe, I’ll actually get to meet the Prime Minister.”

I noticed that people had started gathering along a roped-off pathway leading into the event. “That must be where the Prime Minister will arrive,” I thought. Carefully manoeuvring my way to the front, I found a spot where he would be sure to see me when he entered.

Just then, six of the Prime Minister’s security personnel arrived and stood right in front of me, their backs forming a wall that blocked my view. I looked around for an alternative position, but there was nowhere to move. The guards were scanning the crowd and I noticed a few of them eyeing the book in my hand with suspicion.

One of them pointed at it and asked, “Sir, what is that?”

“It’s a book I’d like to present to the Prime Minister,” I replied politely.

“That’s not allowed,” he said firmly. “Hand it over now.”

I hesitated but knew I had no choice. As I handed it over, I said, “Sir, with all due respect, the Prime Minister is familiar with our movement, and I’m sure he would appreciate reading about how we are sharing India’s spiritual culture around the world.”

Overhearing our exchange, another security officer, apparently of higher rank, said to the first guard, “Check through it and put it through a radiation scan.”

The officer took the book to a secure area inside a nearby tent. Fifteen long and anxious minutes passed. Finally, the officer returned, handing the book to his superior. “Alright, it has passed inspection,” said the senior officer. “If and when the Prime Minister wishes to speak with you, I will return it so you can present it to him. But keep in mind, he has had a long day. He just arrived from the Kumbh Mela in Prayagraj, and he is exhausted. Most likely, he will greet the couple briefly and then leave.”

“Well there’s still a small chance,” I thought. “Maybe, just maybe.”

Suddenly, wailing sirens filled the air, signalling the Prime Minister’s arrival. His security detail turned once again to scan the attendees. I glanced upward and noticed snipers on the rooftops adjusting their positions.

Two minutes later, there was Prime Minister Narendra Modi surrounded by a tight ring of security personnel. Since I am taller than most people in India, I lifted my head slightly and smiled as he passed by. He caught my glance and gave a polite nod before continuing toward the stage.

“It’s alright,” I thought. “He has come to greet the couple. Maybe he will stop and speak to me on his way out.”

He climbed the stairs and acknowledged a few people he knew before turning his attention to the newlyweds. Their conversation lasted no more than a minute. He posed for a photo and started making his way back.

Twenty yards from where I stood, he paused twice to exchange words with two other guests. Then, as he turned around his gaze fell upon me, and, to my astonishment, he walked straight in my direction.

The security officer standing beside me quickly handed back my book and whispered, “You’re in luck.”

As Prime Minister Modi approached, he called warmly, “Hare Krishna!” Within moments, we were standing face to face. He appeared calm and composed despite the long day he had endured.

Realizing I had only a few moments, I spoke with clarity and conviction. “Prime Minister Modi, I had been hoping to meet you this evening. For the past 52 years, I have been traveling and sharing the wisdom of the Bhagavad-gita all over the world. I wanted to share this journey with you through my newly published book.”

He accepted the book with both hands and thanked me sincerely.

Seizing the moment, I asked, “Prime Minister, may I take a photo with you?”

He smiled and, with a touch of humor, replied, “Just look around. Everyone is already taking photos!”

We both turned toward the cameras and smiled as flashes went off from all directions. Then he thanked me again and continued on his way.

Once he had left, I turned to the crowd and asked if anyone could share their photos with me.

As things settled down, a gentleman standing behind me stepped forward. “I was watching your interaction with the Prime Minister,” he said. “I was his Personal Security Officer for ten years. I told my friends that if they wanted a clear view of the Prime Minister, they should stand behind you, because he would surely stop to greet a sannyasi. I know his habits better than anyone.”

“Thank you for sharing that,” I replied.

Just then, the Prime Minister’s secretary came running back towards me, slightly out of breath.

“The Prime Minister would like your contact details,” he said. “After reading the book, he will certainly want to write and thank you.”

Reaching into my pocket, I handed him my calling card.

With that, I quietly made my way back to my room and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, as I awoke and reflected on the previous night’s events, I asked myself, “Was that all a dream?”

But as the memories became clearer, I smiled and realised it hadn’t been a dream. A slim chance—”Maybe, just maybe”—became a reality by the mercy of Srila Prabhupada and Lord Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu.

kathancana smrte yasmin

duskaram sukaram bhavet

vismrte viparitam syat

sri-caitanyam namami tam

“Things that are very difficult to do become easy to execute if one somehow or other simply remembers Lord Caitanya Mahaprabhu. But if one does not remember Him, even easy things become very difficult. To this Lord Caitanya Mahaprabhu I offer my respectful obeisances.”

(Sri Caitanya-caritamrta Adi-lila 14.1)

“Adventures of a Travelling Monk” is available on Amazon worldwide.