Dear Guru Mahārāja,
Please accept my most humble obeisances at your lotus feet. All glories to Śrīla Prabhupāda! All glories unto you!
I honestly don’t know where to begin, because every time I try to express what you mean to me, words feel too small. Still, on this special day of your Vyāsa-pūjā, I want to try, even if it’s imperfect—just to say thank you and to share a little bit of how you’ve touched my heart and changed my life.
What stands out to me the most about you, Guru Mahārāja, is your love. It’s not loud or dramatic. It’s steady, deep, and personal. Even with so many thousands of disciples, you still take time to understand each one. Through the E-Care team, you stay connected, and whenever you respond to questions or give guidance, it’s never generic. You listen. You care. You understand the whole story behind someone’s heart before saying even a word. And somehow, even though you see all your disciples equally, each one of us feels like we’re receiving something extra from you. I know I feel that way. I know that you pray for us—for all of us—sincerely, constantly. And even in small interactions, you always find a way to encourage. You remind us to chant, to take up service, to do something meaningful with our lives. That compassion you carry… it’s not just comfort—it’s what keeps us going.
Your health challenges have been another form of shelter for us. I remember how you’ve told us that our spiritual practice affects your health—that the guru takes on the reactions of the disciples. That thought alone makes me want to be better. Even when you’ve been in pain, even when the doctors are asking you to rest, you still keep going. You give class, you review reports, you read emails, and you offer personal attention. You keep doing what you’ve always done—serving and guiding. Watching you never stop, even when you’re clearly unwell, has made me look at my own life differently. For small discomforts, we often pause our service. But you… you show us how to rise above the body, to keep our consciousness fixed on Kṛṣṇa, no matter what. Your life is a reminder of what it truly means to surrender.
I remember hearing how after your stroke, you were transported by ambulance from Bhaktivedanta Hospital to Pune, just so you could address the Rādhānātha Mahārāja yātrā. Your vitals started to stabilize. Just being in the presence of service brought strength back into your body. That moment—that miracle—said everything. That’s devotion beyond theory. That’s love in action. I also remember the first time I saw you in person. It was 2011. Late at night, you had just arrived after a long journey. You were in your wheelchair, holding your Jagannātha stick, smiling and blessing all the devotees. Even in your fatigue, you were glowing. And in that moment, something stirred in me. I thought, “I want to serve you.” That feeling has stayed in my heart ever since.
You’ve also changed ISKCON in ways that have touched so many lives. Your vision for congregational development—through Nāma-haṭṭa, Bhakti-vṛkṣa, and other systems—has opened doors for countless souls to come closer to Kṛṣṇa. My wife and I are fortunate to be part of Bhakti-vṛkṣa, and we see firsthand how beautifully structured and effective your system is. But what amazes me most is that you never settle. You keep asking, “What more can we do? How else can we reach people?” And instead of doing it alone, you make it a collaborative journey. You involve the community. You give people like us a chance to participate in Mahāprabhu’s mission—no matter how big or small our role may be. And that trust makes us want to rise higher.
Even now, with all that you’ve been through physically, you continue to lead. I’ve seen how even during dialysis, even when you’re unwell, you still attend meetings, give direction, and carry out your duties. You didn’t reduce your service after your stroke—you increased it. That alone leaves me speechless. It reminds me that true surrender doesn’t wait for comfort. It just serves, with whatever strength is available. You’ve shown me the importance of sādhana, of consistency, of not letting the body dictate our consciousness. Your actions keep reminding me to grow up spiritually—to stop making excuses and start making effort.
And the way you manage it all is beyond my understanding. You take on so many roles—GBC, guru, advisor, project head—across different countries and time zones. And you don’t just touch the surface. You go deep into each one. Whether it’s reading long resolutions, responding to emails that need guidance, or reviewing the progress of the TOVP or other projects—you do it all with care and clarity. What touches me is how you don’t waste even a minute. Whether you’re in a car, an airport, or just walking to take darśana—you’re always engaged, always serving. For most of us, relaxation means stepping away from responsibility. But for you, service is your relaxation. That’s something I will never forget.
Your compassion isn’t limited to ISKCON. The Food for Life program you started in Māyāpur has grown so much—reaching villages, cities, and even touching lives during the COVID pandemic. And you haven’t stopped. Even in Māyāpur today, you’re still asking, “What more can we do?” I’ve seen how prasādam becomes a healing force under your care. It’s not just food—it’s Kṛṣṇa’s love, served with your heart.
When I heard about you receiving the Hindu Ratna Award and other honors, I felt so proud—but not surprised. Of course, the world is noticing. Of course, leaders and spiritual figures outside ISKCON are honoring you. You’ve done so much for Sanātana-dharma. But what moves me the most is your humility. You accept every award on behalf of Śrīla Prabhupāda and the devotee community. You never take credit. And that’s why you shine even brighter in our eyes.
What I find truly beautiful is how your presence touches even those who don’t know anything about Kṛṣṇa. I’ve seen airport staff pause and offer you respect, air hostesses go out of their way to serve you, and even curious visitors at ISKCON guesthouses express a desire to meet you—simply because of how you carry yourself. There’s something about you that makes people stop and look—not just with their eyes, but with their hearts. You distribute prasādam, offer blessings, and somehow leave a piece of Kṛṣṇa with everyone you meet. You don’t need to preach loudly—your presence itself is preaching.
Dear Guru Mahārāja, I honestly don’t know how I ended up so fortunate to be your disciple. But I do know that I want to serve you better, love you deeper, and follow you more sincerely. Thank you for everything you’ve given me—not just instructions, but your heart. On this day of your Vyāsa-pūjā, I offer my tiny words, my imperfect realizations, and my grateful heart at your lotus feet.
Your aspiring servant,
Vāṁśīdhara Viśāla dāsa