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A monk from the Orient, China, I suppose, excitedly and hurriedly ran to me with a gift.  It was a gamsha, a short lower garment for sleeping in, or to be used as a towel after bathing.  He doesn't know me very well, but he extended himself for that devotional touch.
"What is your name?"  I asked him.
"My name is ??? Swami," he answered, with a name that was the length of the Ganges.
"Is there a short form to that?"
"Haridasa," he replied.
"Thanks.  I can handle a three syllable word."  
He was all smiles.
I walked to the samadhi auditorium for the morning drama session.  When I came out, the Russian pilgrims were sitting, partly on stone, partly on the grass.  A senior monk of the brahmacaris was delivering a class. All eyes came my way when I stumbled upon the group.  The class was interrupted.  The listeners offered obeisances in my direction, as is done in a place like Mayapura. I threw everyone a kiss.  Laughter followed.
I walked to my room, Number 505 in the Gada Building and there on the bed was a copy of the latest "Padayatra Newsletter," an actual glossy magazine.  I was thrilled that my article entitled, "The Bruce Trail in Canada," made it into the 2019 edition.
High points—these brief encounters were, but there's more.  Another day of converging with monks of guru or teacher-status devotees was really special. Then there was the dress rehearsal for, "The Queen's Secret."  The troupe expressed being tired, but they worked on, nevertheless.
May the Source be with you!

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